#13 Dance with Destiny

Nick stopped, the halyard in his hands and the jib fluttering in the breeze. Vachon glanced at him. "What, Knight?" he asked.

The elder vampire did not appear to have heard. He looked with sightless eyes; then a wary smile graced his handsome face. "We will have a guest," he said.

Vachon glanced skyward. He could not see anything yet. "Who is it?"

Nick loosened the halyard, dropping the jib again. "We had best postpone our departure until we find out what he wants. You'll need to break out the finest for him."

Vachon grumbled, cursing in Spanish, as he went to comply. His twin had told him several weeks ago that Nick might be in danger. He had hoped to get him back home to the relative security of LaCroix's domain before trouble erupted.

"You don't need to worry," Nick said softly. "I think he is a friend. I'm just not sure why."

Perry glanced up mournfully from his place on the spare bed. Vachon grinned at him. The carouche had bit him before, chastising him for endangering Nick when they spent the day in a thin canvas tent. He was going to enjoy the payback. "Can I get you something to drink, too, carouche?" he asked. He swayed from side to side, accentuating and exaggerating the rise and dip of the boat as it rode the gentle waves.

The carouche growled menacingly. He rose on unsteady legs and managed a half circle, turning his face into the wall. Then he plopped down again with a groan.

Vachon searched through the labels on their stock. Bovine for the carouche, human - uncut for general consumption, and with wine for guests, and still a single bottle of LaCroix's own. Among the special cut varieties was one Vachon recognized as LaCroix's favorite blend. This he reached for and the uncut for Nick, then he brought out three wineglasses. When it was just he and Nick, they didn't usually bother with glasses, but for the guest he assumed it would be proper etiquette.

As he climbed back up the narrow little stairs he saw a dark figure drop from the sky. The strange vampire landed next to Nick, dwarfing him. Nick was not a small man and he had regained some of the weight he had lost during his prolonged illness, but the other one was huge. He was at least six four, maybe more, and had to go close to 280 pounds. He was black, with tightly curled black hair and his clothing was all black. The pale moon reflected eerily on his white teeth and the whites of his eyes. His voice, when he spoke was in striking contrast. It was soft and gentle, like a shepherd's voice.

"Good evening, Nicholas," the vampire said, his lips drawing back in a friendly smile.

Nick did not look entirely at ease, but he extended a hand in greeting. "Welcome aboard," he said. "Zuhayr, Master of Algernia, Aenid, and Rownan, Cofounder of the Law, Elder of the High Council, Distinguished Leader of our race, this is my companion, Javier Vachon," he said, as he began the formal introduction. "Javier, twin of Amaru, Child of the Goddess of Lake Titicaca, meet Zuhayr."

Vachon wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before accepting a handshake. "Nice to meet you," he said, hoping the ancient wouldn't see it for a lie.

Zuhayr chuckled, his chest shaking. "And you, young one. Any friend of Nicholas's is certainly someone I am eager to know."

"Thanks, Nick," Vachon muttered. He poured out drinks, suddenly grateful to have that small task to perform.

Nick inhaled before tasting his beverage, taking only a small sip. It still wasn't sitting well like it should. He almost wished Vachon had brought up the last bottle from LaCroix, although they had several days' journey ahead of them. He should save it as long as possible.

Zuhayr accepted the glass, but instead of stating his business, he glanced around the boat appreciatively. "Nice little sloop," he said. "Had her out much?"

"No. Coming here was our maiden voyage," Nick said. "We haven't owned her long." "I've done some sailing myself," the ancient reminisced. "On a tiny, papyrus reed boat, from Morocco to Barbados... but that was ages ago. Who was your master, Javier?"

Vachon shrugged. "She never told us a name. She went to greet the sun a few hours after she brought us across." Zuhayr scowled disapprovingly.

Nick was uncomfortable. He knew that vampire masters were supposed to assume responsibility for their progeny, and yet, there were times he coveted Vachon's freedom. He set his glass down, no longer sure if he could finish it. "I wasn't sure if I would see you again," he said, trying to change the subject. "After last night."

"What happened last night?" Vachon blurted.

"You handled yourself well," Zuhayr said. Then he answered Vachon. "Nicholas faced his enemy and was victorious."

"You should have called me," Vachon said, getting angry. "I would have helped."

"No, Javier," Zuhayr interrupted. "He had to face the attack alone. Now the others will spread the word that Nick can handle himself. They will think twice before going up against him."

"How is Joe doing?" Nick asked. It bothered him that he had been unable to sense the extent of his enemy's injuries. He should have taken his blood in the fight. Joe expected him to, had expected him to drain him and behead him. Nick shuddered, as vampire justice was often too extreme.

"I took care of him." Zuhayr's voice had a firm, final sound that frightened Nick.

"You didn't? Kill him?" he whispered.

"No, Nicholas. I did ensure that this was one lesson he learned well. He now has a healthy respect for any one older than he is. Then, I healed him. He should be half-way to Greece by now, where he will make a full report and resign from his position."

Nick nodded thoughtfully. It was enough. Vachon tossed back his drink and twirled the empty glass restlessly. Time was wasting... he was eager to set sail.

"Will you be sailing with us?" Nick asked hesitantly, out of courtesy.

Zuhayr set his glass down on the tray and tilted his head to gaze up the length of the mast. "Yes, I think I will. Tell me, young Javier, how is she rigged?"

Vachon groaned silently. He sent Nick a glare, which the blind vampire was certain to sense. Then as he began once again to raise the sails, the adventure overshadowed all else.

The winds were stronger than before, but coming from the northwest. It would take a series of tricky tacks to maneuver down the St. Lawrence into Lake Ontario. He forgot Zuhayr was an all-powerful ancient as he bossed him around the boat. Nick chuckled softly. He shook his head, conjuring up the mental image of the scruffy Spanish fledgling commanding one who had been council elder even when LaCroix was yet mortal.

The dip and swell of the waves was gently lulling. He leaned back and felt the wind on his face. The moon's soft touch warmed him. He thought back over the past eight months to the day he had lain beneath the sun and stared at it in all its fiery glory. It had altered his life in ways he could never have predicted. It had not all been bad. He was learning more about who and what he was and who he wanted to be. He hadn't learned the answers yet, but at least, he knew the questions.

"C'mon, Nick," Vachon coaxed as he tried to pull him to his feet.

Nick followed sleepily. He felt the hands assist him in undressing and getting in to bed, then he felt a cool, wet tongue on his cheek. "G'night, Perry," he whispered.

Mid-day Nick awoke, ravenously hungry. He found the small refrigerator, but did not bother to search for a glass, sipping instead from the bottle. He cocked his head and turned towards the presence at the table. "Zuhayr," he said.

"I'll have to get me a boat," the ancient mused. "I haven't been out on the Mediterranean in ages."

"What's this all about," Nick said.

Zuhayr smiled indulgently. "To what do you refer, child?"

"I'm not a child. And you know what I mean. Why are you here?"

Zuhayr chuckled, which only further annoyed Nick.

"You came to Montreal to investigate me. Now what? Have I "passed" your barbaric justice system? Or am I only being fattened up for the kill?"

"Nicholas. I know you have been under a lot of strain, and so I shall pretend that your tone is not as insulting as it sounds." Zuhayr allowed the full force of his power to brush across the younger one for a moment.

Nick clenched his teeth as he struggled to bring his anger under control. He grew tired of the power games, the senseless violence of the culture he tried to deny. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, tentatively reaching out to sense Zuhayr.

"Now, Nicholas," Zuhayr said, breaking the long silence. "If you have a grievance, I should like to hear it, without the sarcasm."

Nick flinched. This vampire was not LaCroix, he reminded himself. "Why do you care what happens to me? Why did you come to warn me about Joe, mediate the fight, and then heal him of the injuries and not me? Why are you here now?" He closed his mouth, before he could dig himself in any deeper. His stomach tightened. Then he heard the familiar chuckling. The ancient Nubian vampire reminded him of the jolly red-suited fat elves of mortals' Christmas season.

"You, Nicholas, are delightful. You are refreshingly honest and of high character. I hope that if you survive your foolishness, you will consider joining me in the Council."

Nick's mouth dropped but no sound issued forth.

"Ours is a dying race. We are on the brink of extinction. Our young seldom survive, and our old no longer care. We must learn to change our ways or we shall simply cease. This is my mission. I have had my eye on you for some time, Nicholas."

Nick shrugged, feigning indifference, but he felt like squirming under the ancient's scrutiny. "I couldn't serve on any council that places so little value on a life. Our laws are harsh. Our ways are cruel. We do nothing, contribute nothing. We are but parasites on the world." "You criticize what you truly do not understand," Zuhayr chided gently. "You think you know our ways, you - who deny yourself the simplest pleasure of a blood kiss. We have no written record, no history books, and no oral traditions. Our ways are passed along through our blood; yet, with whom have you shared outside of your own family? A few orphans and misfits?"

Nick fiddled with the bottle in his hands. A blood tradition? Was there ever anything in the history of his race worthy of commemorating? Was there ever even one socially redeeming virtue? He would have laughed at the absurdity, if anyone but Zuhayr had been there.

"We are attempting to change our code, Nicholas," Zuhayr said then, interrupting his thoughts. "But that is only part of the problem. We are trying to reach the ancients of our race, and urge them to raise families, to take responsibility for their young. Even LaCroix is at fault. Who has joined his family in the last thousand years, besides you and Janette?"

"He has two infants now," Nick said defensively.

"Really? Then why has he not presented them?"

Nick thought back. There had been some ceremony in the spring all those centuries ago. He had been so young and foolish then, idolizing his master, and the ceremony had terrified him, surrounding him with drooling, pawing ancients, each wishing to steal him away from his master's protection. He shuddered involuntarily.

"I must apologize," Nick said then. "Last spring LaCroix was worrying over me. I'm sure the duty of the ceremony just slipped his memory."

"Then you may inform him that I shall expect to meet these children at the next Feast of Lilith."

Nick smiled, wondering what Zuhayr would think of his little brother, Don Constantine. He would accompany LaCroix, though, and do all in his power to protect Tracy from harm. The rights of fledglings had improved a little in eight hundred years, but not enough.

"When you come of age," Zuhayr continued, "your knowledge of mortal law, your honesty and your integrity will be a welcome addition to the council."

"I am honored, my lord," Nick replied humbly.

"You should be! You have some catching up to do, though. You need to spend more time among your own kind. You will discover a culture that just may surprise you. Your master is only one vampire. He is not typical of the race."

Nick hesitantly sipped some more before replacing the cork. A yawn threatened to break free... he needed to return to sleep. Zuhayr took the bottle from him and returned it to the refrigerator.

"Come, Nicholas. Come share with me."

He stood, wary and uneasy. The invitation, although softly given, was no less of a command. He felt a moment of anger, wanting to refuse, wanting to declare his independence, and yet, his undead heart picked up a beat at the offer. His fangs exploded into his mouth.

Zuhayr led him away from the table. He pulled Nick around, pressing Nick's back against his chest, his arm around Nick possessively. Nick fought the instinct to flee, struggling to contain his fear at the submissive position. Zuhayr's chin scraped against his smooth throat. Zuhayr's free hand explored the smoothness of Nick's bare chest before trailing up, tilting his head to expose the vein now pulsing with need.

"This is what we are," Zuhayr murmured, his breath a quiet fire in Nick's ear. "We are a people of passion... of desire. Tell me you want this, Nicholas!"

Nick wanted to deny it. Zuhayr was not saying anything LaCroix had not tried to drill in to him for centuries, only Zuhayr was winning. Nick wanted it. He wanted the ancient to bite him, to drain him, and then to sustain him in the circle of blood. He fangs throbbed. He forgot all, the boat, his blindness, his quest, and all that mattered was Zuhayr and the release he could offer.

"Say it!"

"I want it," Nick cried. "Take me!"

As Zuhayr plunged his fangs into the soft flesh, Nick groaned in ecstasy. He went limp in the elder's embrace, giving himself up to the moment. Only a glimpse of the ancient's life crossed over through the bond formed in blood. Nick saw him for the first time, his dark, handsome face, flashing white teeth, a look of seduction and mystery hidden in eyes as black as night. He sensed Zuhayr's passion for the ordinary, his delight in the simplest of life's pleasures, from watching dew settle on a spider's web in the predawn hours to admiring one of his many progeny succeed in some new challenge, even to the simple adventure of sailing again.

Zuhayr held him close, lovingly, as he brought his wrist to Nick's lips. Nick returned the bite, savoring the earthy flavor of his ancient partner. The cool blood soothed his spirit as much as his stomach. He trembled uncontrollably as his own passion crested, leaving him weak yet contented.

Zuhayr pulled out of his neck, licking the small wounds to heal them. He scowled when the blood did not immediately cease to flow, and allowed Nick to continue to drink from him. The sweet elixir of the younger vampire was almost intoxicating. He brushed a tender kiss on the golden hair. It was time to leave this one, but he hoped the time would pass swiftly until Nicholas came to him again.

Nick sleepily withdrew from the ancient's wrist, caressing the hand that held him. Wordlessly, Zuhayr carried him back to his bed. When he awoke later that night, the ancient was gone.

Tracy bit her fingernails nervously, checking her watch again. "How much longer?" she snapped irritably.

"They'll get here when they get here," Urs sighed. "If not tonight, then tomorrow for sure."

Tracy winced. She'd torn the nail too close again, just like last night. It would repair itself in a few hours, but the pain was no less annoying. She picked up one of the smaller logs from the fire and played with it, spraying sparks into the chill night air. They had been camping out near the harbor for two days now yet still no sign of their boys. Now a low fog settled over the warmer water, obscuring even a vampire's ability to see.

"So tell me about Maine," Urs said, trying to distract Tracy.

She shrugged. "It was okay."

"Tell me more!" Urs pushed her shoulder teasingly. "You'll never win any communications awards with answers like that!"

It was Tracy's turn to sigh. "All right," she conceded. "It was pretty nice, most of the time. Learning Spanish was fun! I even went to a harvest dance! I just wore my jeans, although some of the Mexican girls wore full cotton skirts, which were so pretty when they moved. LaCroix even danced. I mean, I knew he could waltz and tango, but I didn't know he could do anything so common as a folk dance."

The two girls chuckled. "I have a hard time picturing that myself," Urs whispered conspiratorially.

"It was also kind of boring at times. I mean, no one to talk to except LaCroix. And he's great but, I mean, he's a guy. And guys are so, so, I don't know!"

"I know just what you mean!"

They laughed again.

Then Tracy dropped the log into the coals. "They're coming! I feel them!"

Urs stood up and turned towards the lake. She hadn't felt a thing. Envy threatened to spoil the moment, but she clamped down on it quickly. "What can you sense?" she asked.

"Nick mostly. He seems happy. Come! Follow me!" Tracy jumped into the air, throwing caution away. Urs glanced around nervously. The fog was thick enough to keep any other campers from observing them. She leaped after Tracy and followed her through the fog to where their men were mooring the boat for the day.

Tracy alighted on the deck, throwing her arms around Vachon, then Nick, and then Vachon again. "You're back! Finally! How was Montreal? Did you like the school? You don't look any smarter. Did you know Natalie went to Hawaii for two weeks? I've missed you guys!"

Nick laughed. He silenced Tracy's endless prattle by laying a kiss on her lips. When he released her, Vachon took his place. "We kind of missed you too, Baby," Nick said.

Urs came forward hesitantly. Nick grabbed her, enveloping her in a bear hug. "It's good to see you again," Nick said, using the expression even if it wasn't strictly accurate.

Urs kissed him. "You, too."

Perry broke up the sentimental nonsense with a firm bark. It was time to get off this wood and fiberglass chamber of torture and go home!

Nick knelt in front of the carouche and rubbed his hands through the long, silky coat. "I'm not ready to go yet, Perry. But I will be fine with my friends if you would like to wait for me at the Raven."

Perry growled and snapped his teeth.

"I promise. We're be there before dawn." The carouche licked his face, wagging his tail agreeably, before lifting into the sky.

"How do you understand him?" Tracy asked, crinkling her nose in distaste. "You don't have to, you know, um, bite him, do you?"

Nick laughed. "Too much hair." He pulled Urs behind him then as he went down below.

Tracy watched them leave and her fangs throbbed. She wasn't sure whom she missed more, Nick or Vachon. It was a sure thing that the next time they went somewhere, she was going to go with them! Vachon pulled her away, onto the upper deck where he had spread a comforter. Then, beneath the starry sky, he made love to her. Through the bond she shared with Nick, she sensed his arousal as well, increasing her own desire, and their climax was reached together, exploding in waves of pleasure.

*****

Natalie swirled the straw in her Brandy Old-Fashioned. Nick should be coming home tonight. The summer was nearly over. He had been blind for seven months now. How quickly the year had flown! And she was no better off than she was last year at this time.

She was still surrounded by vampires, still working the graveyard shift, and still no prospects of a normal, mortal marriage and family. Some things had improved, however. Last year, she had felt Nick drifting away from her. Now, their friendship was stronger than ever. And then, there was LaCroix.

Her cruise was supposed to give her time away from the undead to think about her life. She had to see if being only mortal in a mortal world would be enough for her. If she asked him to do it, LaCroix could erase her memories of them, and she could live relatively free from danger. Only, a rampaging vampire had nearly killed her, and Tristan, an Enforcer no less, had accompanied her on the Bahamian cruise, and again to Hawaii.

Natalie had just about decided that she did not want to grow old and die. There was so much of life she wanted to experience; so much she wanted to know. And if she lived long enough, perhaps she could realize her own potential? She might return to college and pursue that career in research? Discover the cure for AIDS, cancer, and chicken pox? Maybe even read every book in the Metro Reference Library!

But the one thing she wasn't sure about was a baby. Her hand strayed to her flat stomach and wondered.

"Girl, you have got to get a life," Grace chided, nudging Nat out of her introspection.

Nat smiled at her co-worker. "I have a life. Maybe I've had too much time off this year."

Grace smiled. "You were a million miles away. Why, Nat? Did you meet someone nice in Hawaii? Are you going to break up with Mr. Nightcreeper?"

"Nightcrawler," Nat corrected her. "And his name is Lucien LaCroix. No. I am not planning to break up with him."

"Then what? Get married? That's it, isn't it? Are you pregnant?"

Nat broke into a short burst of laughter. "Nothing could be further from the truth, Grace. He can't have any more children."

"Had the strings cut, huh? Well, there's other ways, darling. You know, In Vitro Visa, baby-buying, test-tube fertilizer. If you and him really want a baby, just go for it. I must admit though, after all those years trying to pair you up with Nick, I have a hard time seeing you as his step-mother."

"I don't," Nat admitted. "Actually, I think he's the sweetest son a body could ask for. For a stubborn, old-fashioned brick, that is."

The friends both laughed.

"Nat, what's going on with his eyesight? Do you still think it will return?"

Nat was silent. That had been her belief all along, but now she wasn't sure. She doubted Nick would ever get better. The ulcer had not changed at all since about two weeks after his drowning, when there had been some small improvement. Nick had about given up, as well.

"We just take it one day at a time, Grace."

"Well, you think about getting yourself a baby, honey. And I'd best be getting home." Grace rubbed at an ache in her lower back before slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Nat smiled. "Good night," she said.

A baby... it was something to think about. She had wanted marriage, home, and family, but... if she chose unlife with LaCroix, perhaps she could at least have a child first? She could use a donor, and not have to deal with a relationship. She smiled as she considered the possibility.

*****

The nightclub was thinning; the crowd had changed from the mostly mortal one of early evening to mostly vampire. Strange, but she still felt that she was among friends. When LaCroix had been gone, and Janette was back on the throne, Nat had felt displaced. Now, with her master lover in his sound booth at the back of the bar, she was treated respectfully.

Suddenly a quiet descended on the nightclub moments before the door blew open and Nick entered, with Tracy, Vachon and Urs. A cheer of welcome went up. Nat stared at him. He held the railing as he came down the stairs, but otherwise it was hard to tell he was blind. He walked with the quiet power of a prince, of one born to rule. His head turned to her direction and he grinned, calling a greeting to her.

For a moment, she dared to hope that he could see her, but the infant fantasy died quickly. His deep blue eyes were a little unfocused, not seeing her at all. Nat got up and went to him, giving him a quick hug. "Welcome back, Nick. How was school?"

Nick kissed the top of her head and hugged her a little too tightly. "It was fine. But it is good to be back." He buried his nose in her long hair and inhaled. "I don't smell the coconuts. Did you lose your tan already?"

Nat punched him playfully. "No, Nick, I have a gorgeous summer tan, better than I've ever had before, thank you. And Hawaii was wonderful. I'm hoping to convince Lucien to move there next. Don't you think that would be nice?"

Nick laughed. "Actually, I can see him in the Aleutian Islands a lot easier. Especially those six months out of the year when the night never ends."

"Ick," Nat said, laughing, and shuddered at the imagined cold.

All of the vampires in the nightclub welcomed Nick back. Some clapped his back, others gave only a verbal greeting, but it seemed that everyone had to make some contact with him.

Nick was polite, but he seemed to search the crowd for the one who was not there.

Nat scowled disapprovingly. "He is still in his sound booth," she told Nick.

If he was upset, it didn't show. Nick gave her a ready smile. Before long, she saw him make his way through the crowd and enter LaCroix's domain. Nat went back to her drink, now watered down from the melted ice and waited. Tracy, Vachon, and Urs slid into the booth with her.

It wasn't long before she heard a terrible noise, as something - or someone - was thrown against the door of the sound booth. Nat lurched to her feet, ready to defend Nick and to tear LaCroix to shreds! Vachon's hand clamped on her wrist. He tugged her gently, insisting she sit down again.

"It is their way," he said sadly. "You cannot interfere."

"Yes, I can, dammit, and I will!" she snapped.

Tracy looked at her with golden eyes and fang tips showing. "The fight is over already, Nat. You do not want to go in there now."

Nat slumped into the booth. She could deal with so many things - vampire corpses who were not dead, children who appeared older than their parents, the barbaric rules and violence under which the creatures of the night must live... but sharing her lover with his son was just too much. "I'm going to bed," she snapped.

Vachon hooked his arms around Urs and Tracy. "Should we follow her?" He breathed on their necks, scraping his fangs along their throats seductively.

"No way," Tracy said. "Let's go to my bed instead."

*****

Nick entered the sound booth. He was a little hurt that LaCroix had felt more of a duty to his mortal listeners than to his immortal child, but he tried to ignore the feeling. Closing the door, he took a few steps into the room and waited.

LaCroix was just ending his broadcast for the day. Nick listened to the silken, seductive voice as he bid farewell, and heard the switches flipped and the power cease until the room was all in silence. He waited, but LaCroix did not move, did not say a word.

He had missed his master! It was humiliating to admit, but he longed to return to LaCroix's embrace, to feel his master dominate him, to drink from him again! But the ancient sat there, a cold, quiet presence, denying him welcome. Nick covered his own hurt with spitefulness.

"I'm sure all the vermin of Toronto can sleep better now that their guru has returned. How ever did they manage while you were away with Tracy?"

LaCroix lunged from his chair. He grabbed Nick's shirt and threw him into the door. The hinges groaned but held fast. He stormed to Nick and grabbed his shirt again, drawing his fist back to strike the smugness from his face.

Nicholas flinched, a look of fear mixed with expectation. Even blind, he could see the chastisement coming. LaCroix held back only with great effort. "You have one minute to explain your utter lack of respect, Nicholas, before I teach you better manners," he hissed.

Nick opened his senses to touch the bond with his master. What he felt was overpowering. LaCroix had missed him! He had missed him so much that it hurt, and the hurt terrified him. He never wanted to need someone that much. LaCroix could not need anyone. To need was to be weak.

"Master," Nick whispered. He felt some of the tension leave LaCroix with that single word. "Why didn't you come to greet me? Are you not glad to have me back?"

"I would have been but one among many," LaCroix replied cryptically.

"I need you, LaCroix. I have always needed you. Please don't shut me out."

LaCroix dropped his fist and pulled Nick into his embrace. He said nothing, but his arms trembled from emotion. Nick nuzzled his neck, reaching up to nip the sensitive area behind his ear. LaCroix tore Nick's shirt from him, popping buttons and rending the fabric, to bear the throat of his golden child. He lowered Nick to the floor then and took him. What he could not say with words, he shared through the blood kiss.

Nick savored his master's essence as it slid smoothly down his throat. He treasured the feel of LaCroix's weight on him, making him feel cherished and protected. He burrowed into LaCroix's shoulder, loath to end the moment. How strange, he thought to himself. In the past twenty-four hours he had lain with Vachon, Zuhayr, Urs, Tracy, and now LaCroix. He had changed a lot in a year.

LaCroix lifted up on his elbows, admiring the beloved face of his precious child. He pulled his fingers through strands of Nicholas's hair. "Shall we find a more comfortable bed, my son?" he whispered.

"Mm. I'm fine."

Reluctantly, LaCroix got to his feet, pulling Nicholas up with him. He licked again at the twin trail that still flowed from his child's throat.

"Something happened to my shirt," Nick said lightly.

"So I see." LaCroix lifted the shreds of fabric and put them into the trash. Then he took a coat from the closet and helped Nicholas to slip it on. Arm in arm, they left the private sound booth.

The club was empty. The patrons had all left, the chairs were piled on top of tables and even Patrick had gone to bed for the day. LaCroix saw his son safely to his room before he was finally able to rest. It had been a long summer. He was glad it was over.

Tracy threw her arms around Nat, startling the mortal enough to spill her coffee. "Hello!" she called happily.

"Uh, hello. What's this for," Nat snapped, wiping up the spill with a paper napkin.

Tracy released her and went to pull her breakfast from the refrigerator. "I'm just glad to see you is all." After the microwave chimed to announce the blood was warm, Tracy joined Nat at the small kitchen table.

"We were so worried about you," Tracy began.

"I'm sorry about that, but there was no way I could get in touch."

"I know. That's not it. But, while we thought you were missing, maybe even dead, I felt sorry that I hadn't taken the time to know you better. I mean, I know how hard it must be for you now. And I thought maybe you could use a friend."

Nat smiled. Tracy was such a welcome change from the laconic vampire men in her life. "Thanks, Tracy," she said sincerely. "One can always use good friends."

"So, tell me about this guy Tristan! What's he like?"

Natalie blushed. It was awkward to talk about it. She hadn't been intimate with him, but it wasn't because she hadn't been interested. Tristan hadn't wanted to cross LaCroix. She was still governed by her mortal heritage, that included faithfulness to one partner at a time, yet LaCroix recognized no such constraints himself. He would flit from neck to neck, with no regard for her feelings whatsoever. A part of her had wanted to sleep with another vampire, just out of spite.

"Tristan is an Enforcer," Nat said, as if that negated any possible feelings.

"So! Go on! You went on two cruises with him! You have to know more about him than his favorite brand of toothpaste, and I want to know it all!"

Natalie laughed. "Okay. He's good looking-"

"I could see that much," Tracy interrupted.

"And I think he's from Spain originally, although he has lived in England for a long time. He likes to write. He's had a dozen books published, actually, although under a variety of pseudonyms. He says he gets to travel a lot in his line of work, and he always learns something new wherever he goes. He prefers the bottom bunk, he likes his blood uncut, and he doesn't snore, not even a little."

"Why did he join the Enforcers?" Tracy asked.

Nat just shrugged. "I don't know. We didn't talk about it."

"To survive, no doubt," LaCroix answered for her, as he joined them at the table.

Natalie smiled at him. "What makes you say that?"

The ancient slipped an arm over her shoulder amicably. "It is the most common reason. Becoming an Enforcer gives one strength, power, and membership. It is not uncommon for orphaned fledglings to gravitate towards them."

"Why didn't you ever become one?" Tracy asked out of curiosity.

LaCroix sniffed disdainfully. "I never needed to."

"Well, I'm glad that you and he were able to kiss and make up," Nat said, rising from the table to put her dishes in the sink.

"We did no such thing," LaCroix insisted.

Nat just laughed.

Vachon and Urs joined them, then, and Janette, Amaru, and Perry. Only Nick remained asleep. Nat watched the vampires with a strange sense of longing. She wanted to belong, but would she regret it later if she didn't have a child first?

She and Tracy had two nights off, a well-timed weekend for Nick's return. Later she hoped he would tell them about his adventures. The doctor in her wondered why he was still sleeping.

"Nicholas is the same," LaCroix whispered in her ear reassuringly. "No better and no worse for his journey."

She gave him a wan smile. "I wish there was something we could do."

"As do I, my dear. As do I."

It was nearly midnight before Nick awoke and then only because Perry insisted. Nick groaned, resisting the carouche for a moment. "It's still early!"

*It is not, Nicholas. The night is half over. Your friends are worried for you.*

"Okay. I'll get up." Nick remained under the covers. Perry nipped the comforter and dragged it from the bed, tugging insistently when Nick tried to grab it back. Then he jumped onto the vampire and began to lick his face. Nick rolled over, wrestling him until they fell to the floor.

"I'm up! I'm up!" his said, laughing hard.

*You are not. You are on the floor,* Perry pointed out. He took Nick's hand in his mouth and pulled gently, helping him to his feet.

Nick staggered a moment, as sleepy muscles revived. He was all turned around and disoriented, but unconcerned. He groped about the furniture until he got his bearings back. Perry watched him disappear into the bathroom, before going to the kitchen to wait for breakfast.

Before long Nick joined them, as they congregated in the living room. Room was made for him on the couch, his sister at his feet, his master in his leather chair nearby. Perry flopped onto the floor at his feet. He knew the story, but he wondered how much Nick would divulge.

"So tell us everything," Tracy coaxed.

He shrugged, a teasing grin on his face. "I went to school, I passed, and I came home."

Tracy slugged his shoulder. "Now, tell the rest! What happened with Joe? And where was this school? How was the boat? I want details, bro."

Nick accepted the glass Urs placed in his hand and took a small sip. It felt good to be back, and yet he wondered how much to tell. He wasn't ready for a scene with LaCroix, and he knew his master was not going to take the story of his battle lightly.

He told them about Aunt Mary first and the children she took care of. Then he told about Colette, but the details were pried loose only with much prodding from Tracy.

"So, this wasn't a real school?" Tracy interrupted.

"No." Nick sighed, feeling his master's anger already begin. "I was manipulated into attending there, by the council. They wanted to see me alone, away from the protection of my family."

"I want a name," LaCroix hissed.

Nick turned sightless eyes to him, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "Later, sire. It is over, and there is no need for retribution."

"I will be the judge of that!"

"No. I am."

A silence fell for a brief moment, the room was rife with tension. Perry sat up, comforting his charge through their bond.

"The council? Is that like Enforcers?" Tracy asked.

"No," Nick said. "The Enforcers carry out the code. They are like the police of our kind. The Council is more like the governing body, that defines the code and sets the consequences for breaking it.

"It all worked out in the end, I guess," Nick said, getting back to the subject. "I had private instruction, and learned what I set out to do. And the council member was there when Joe arrived with his minions."

LaCroix shut his eyes, shuddering involuntarily at the image of his precious son facing a band of cut-throats alone. "Forgive me, my son," he whispered.

"It's over," Nick repeated. "Zuhayr prohibited any other from aiding Joe and I was able to defend myself. Joe has returned to Greece to resign from Enforcement."

"Zuhayr?" Tracy picked up on the strange name.

"Zuhayr is the oldest member on the council," LaCroix said wearily. "He may very well be the oldest survivor of our race."

"Cool," she said.

Nick swallowed. Zuhayr was a king, and he had lain with him? They had shared blood? The ancient had even offered him a job, basically. When the time came. When would that be? Maybe now was not the time to tell that to LaCroix. His master was feeling threatened enough as it was.

"I hope you gave Joe what-for," Tracy said firmly. "After the hell he put Nat through."

"He hurt you?" Nick blurted. Suddenly, he no longer regretted the beating he'd given the younger vampire.

Nat smiled at her best friend and perhaps, future step-son. "Like you say, Nick. It is over."

Nick told them a little more. He didn't have Tracy's gift for storytelling, but he felt them hang on every word. He reached out tentatively for his master, wondering if the ancient was still wanting to kill someone.

LaCroix's emotions surprised him. The Roman General seemed sad and pensive, mourning for something lost. Nick pressed a little harder, using abilities he hadn't possessed before his blindness forced him to grow. LaCroix grieved for him!

The ancient seemed proud of Nick, of his newfound strength and confidence, and yet, he suffered. Nick wondered about it, until he knew with a certainty. LaCroix feared the changes in their relationship. Nick did, too. He felt like a teenager on the brink of self-discovery. He wanted to step out on his own and yet, he did not want to lose the comfort and security to which he had grown accustomed.

Words could not comfort his master without betraying his presence in the ancient's mind. Nick smiled secretively. He would not give away his new abilities. Gently, he pulled away from the intimate contact.

"Dad, I mean, LaCroix," Tracy said. "Are you going to show him his present now?"

LaCroix grunted. Nick grinned, grateful to his little sister. "Gifts? Great!"

"Come along then, Nicholas," LaCroix said. "It is on the desk, near the window." He took Nick's hand and guided him. "I didn't bother to wrap it."

Nick felt the back of the desk chair, then the desk. He found the computer sitting on it, as it had been before, but next to it was a new Braillexel 2D-80 with easy access bar. With its 80 refreshable Braille cells and 20 cell vertical display, it made the computer accessible to the blind and visually impaired. It was the largest model, the fastest, and also the most expensive. "Thank you, father," Nick said sincerely.

"One identical to it has been donated to the precinct for your use," LaCroix said flatly.

Nick demonstrated to them how it worked, but he grew restless. He had to get out of the apartment, and from being the smothering center of attention. "LaCroix," he said. "Will you take me flying?"

The vampire master startled, pleased at the simple request. "Anything, Nicholas."

Tracy was ready to invite herself along, but Perry knew his charge wished to be alone with the ancient. He glared at Vachon, trying to get the young one's attention. Without the bond of shared blood, it was difficult. He sent an image of Tracy, skyclad bare and frolicking in the hot tub. He grinned as he caught the scent of arousal from the young Spaniard. That task had been easy!

"I have a better idea, querrida," Vachon whispered, pulling Tracy in to his embrace.

Perry watched Nick and LaCroix escape through the skylight. He would follow them, only he would venture out on his own and hunt. It was so good to be on dry land again! He felt truly alive!

Nick relaxed, trusting in his master's care as the night wind whipped at his face. Any vampire could take him flying, but only with LaCroix could he fully enjoy it. He had adjusted to being blind, to reading through his fingers, to leaning on a dog for help, to being dependent. But, he would always miss the freedom flight offered.

LaCroix opened himself to the bond he shared with Nicholas, attuning himself to the younger one's needs. Nicholas would never tell him if he were growing weary. He brought them to the edge of the lake and landed, thinking a quiet, peaceful stroll would loosen his child's tongue, for he sensed that Nicholas had something to say, but was reluctant to speak in front of the others.

Nick took a few steps before he let his knees buckle. He swerved and pitched forward, caught at the last minute by his master's quick reflexes. "Help me," he whispered.

LaCroix gazed at him in concern. Nick didn't look any more pale than usual. He laid him gently on the sand. He saw the familiar gag reflex and in a gesture that was now habit, he massaged his child's stomach soothingly.

Nick let his fangs erupt. He reached for his master, tugging the familiar face closer. When LaCroix turned his neck to feed him, Nick felt a moment of guilt for manipulating him so, but as the ancient blood poured into him, filling him, calming him, he wondered if it had been merely an act after all.

He tasted LaCroix's emotions, more clearly than ever in the past. His master was concerned for his health, angry at the fates that made him weak, pleased with his progress over the summer, jealous of his growing popularity in the community, but most of all, he was relieved. Nick still needed and wanted him, and that was all he wanted in his unlife.

Nick shielded his deception, burying it deep, and concentrated instead on how much the ancient's blood calmed his pain and strengthened him. Then he craned his neck to offer himself.

LaCroix completed the circle. The taste of honey and wine filled his mouth, tempting his palette. His passion exploded, his life was once again complete. He shifted slightly, hoping his weight was not uncomfortable on his child's sore stomach, but the arms that held him close would not release him. He kissed his forehead, brushing aside a strand of hair.

"Talk to me, Nicholas. What is troubling you?"

Nick hesitated. He was in a very vulnerable position, should he arouse LaCroix's anger. A look of fear must have escaped, for LaCroix caressed his face and comforted him.

"Speak, my child. I will not harm you."

"Zuhayr requests that you present your new infants at Council, on the next feast of Lilith," Nick said softly.

"Infants?"

Nick stammered. "He was accusing you of not doing your duty. He said our race is dying and that all ancients should create more progeny, and tend to their upbringing. So I told him about Tracy and Constantine."

LaCroix chuckled. "So, now you brag about my mistake and claim Constantine for the little brother you've always wanted?"

"No," Nick said crossly. He struggled to get up, but LaCroix held him firm.

"I took the blame," Nick said, "for your lapse in protocol. I know you had a lot on your mind last spring."

"I shall take her next year," LaCroix said. "And Don Constantine, as well. Do not worry about this further."

"I want to go with you."

LaCroix licked Nick's throat again, capturing more of the sweet essence that continued to flow. He felt his son's renewed arousal but he knew the night was fading. "Why would you wish to go? Your presence is not required."

"I hated it," Nick said, remembering his own presentation as though it had happened last week, and not nearly 800 years ago. "She won't be safe there. I can help protect her."

"And put yourself at risk again, Nicholas?" LaCroix was incredulous.

"No!" Nick forced his master off of him and lunged to his feet. He felt his strength return, and allowed his eyes to glow, allowed his power to roll off in waves. "I am not a helpless infant any longer, LaCroix. I will be in no great danger."

"We will go together," LaCroix said calmly, admiring the beauty of his favorite child. He loved the fully fanged expression, such an erotic contrast on the golden, angelic face. "Not because I require your assistance, but because we are family."

Nick nodded, accepting the compromise. "I'm glad the feast is still six months away," he said, lightening the moment.

"As am I, my son."

*****

The next few days passed quickly. Nick grew lazy, as he permitted his friends and family to hover over him. He could endure it, since he knew he would soon be leaving again. Quietly, he went online, gathering information he would need for his journey. Telling LaCroix was going to be the hardest of all. He wasn't going to ask his permission. He fully intended to go, regardless of his master's wishes.

The idea to sail to Chicago had come upon him over the summer. Although he'd worked precious little since last winter, he hadn't really had a vacation, either. Vachon was so easy to be with. Nick felt able to completely relax in his company.

This time, though, he wanted to invite the girls along. There was going to be an Amish fair at the stock pavilion, he learned. Hard wood furniture and handsewn quilts were on exhibit. Tracy and Urs would enjoy that. Although Tracy hadn't yet made another quilt after the signature crazy quilt she'd given to LaCroix, Urs had made two. And maybe while Vachon took them to the exhibit, Nick would look up some old friends.

LaCroix surprised him then, when he gave his assent. "I remember you were always fond of Chicago," LaCroix had said. "Give my regards to your friend Lucius."

"I will," Nick stammered, still shocked. He was even more surprised when Reese gave Tracy the time off to go with him. She'd had so much time off since her conversion, that she might not even have to pay income tax this year, he thought wryly. Still, it wasn't like she really needed the money. And after this trip, he was returning to work.

Perry glared at him reproachfully. Nick felt his displeasure as surely as if he could see the baleful eyes. "I would miss you terribly," Nick said. "But you do not need to go with me."

The carouche growled. Of course he did! Nick was his responsibility, and he didn't take that lightly.

"Well, I could send you by plane, and meet you there." *No, * Perry insisted. * I must join you. I will endure the journey.*

Natalie watched as Nick talked to Perry. She wondered at the way he anthropomorphized his dog, but at least, it was something that many mortals also did. "If he doesn't like sailing, perhaps we could give him something to help him sleep? Like a little curare-laced blood?"

"What do you think, Perry?"

The carouche considered it. It would make him drowsy and keep him from helping Nick if trouble arose. However, this trip would be many times longer than the short jaunt to Montreal. He couldn't imagine what use he'd be if he were sick the entire trip. He nodded his assent, wagging his tail and yipping softly.

"He'll try that," Nick said. He told her how much Perry weighed, and Nat went to her lab to work on the correct proportions. Curare was one of the few drugs that worked on vampires, she had learned, and then only in human-lethal doses. It worked a little like an anesthetic, leaving the vampire sleepy for hours. Perry would still suffer motion sickness, but at least he could sleep during much of the journey.

*****

LaCroix watched with concern as his son's boat sailed away. He had worried for him the entire time he was in Montreal, and he had sent him with a case of his own blood, extracted at no small discomfort to himself. This time, Nick went without it. He had three young vampires to feed from, and cases of uncut, mortal blood, but LaCroix hoped it would be enough. He knew that his child could defend himself well. The blindness was no longer a disability. He was comforted to know that Nicholas still needed him. Not for his blood, or his might, or his influence, but because he was his master. That was all. And that would never change. LaCroix smiled, even as he blinked away an errant tear.

Natalie hugged him as she waved at the small figures on the sailboat. "I'll miss them," she admitted. "But I'm also glad to have some time with you to myself."

LaCroix kissed the top of her head. He had been neglecting her lately. The topic of her conversion had been postponed long enough. It was time to discuss it and end whatever misconceptions she still harbored. "Are you ready to join me tonight," he whispered seductively.

"No." Nat pulled away from him. His pull was too strong to resist, especially when he was aroused. "I think I want to have a baby first. If it takes a few months to conceive, and then nine to carry it, then I would let you bring me across in about a year."

"A baby," LaCroix stammered. "Where did that come from? We do not have babies." His tone was loud and a little angry.

Nat was not intimidated. She had expected the anger. It seemed the emotion with which LaCroix was most comfortable.

"I know that," Natalie said. "But I am thirty-five years old. The urge to have a child is almost instinct. I have been thinking that it is now or never, whether or not I become a vampire. I used to think that marriage and a home in the suburbs was my destiny, but now I'm not so sure. I could get used to living with you. To being with you, forever. Not to grow old, not to know death and disease. That is very desirable."

"So who would father this child," LaCroix sneered, making the very word something distasteful.

Nat laughed nervously. Could he be jealous after all? "I haven't anyone in mind yet," she said, ignoring his low warning growl. "With sperm donors, I wouldn't even have to meet him. Perhaps you could even donate sperm, although I realize that this is my wish, and not something you have ever considered. And I'm not even sure I want to do this. But, it is what I at least want to consider."

LaCroix turned away from her, glaring out over the lake. Nick's small boat was still just visible, but it was moving swiftly and soon would be out of sight. No, he did not want to father any more children. He had not really wanted Tracy, although he was glad she was a part of his family. Nick, Janette, Tracy, and one day, possibly, Natalie... that was enough for him. He chuckled then, as he remembered that he had promised to bring Constantine along with them when they traveled to Greece. He had not yet told any of this to Natalie.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"When will you do this?"

Natalie heaved a sigh. "I don't know. I don't even know that I will. But I wanted you to understand my feelings."

"I don't know that I can," LaCroix said softly. "I do remember when I brought Nicholas across. I wanted him for my child more than anything else I have ever wanted in my entire life, both mortal and since.

"I hadn't wanted Divia. I was not pleased when her mother informed me she was expecting and I refused to acknowledge that I was the father. After the child came, I was surprised at the feelings she could arouse. She was so weak and helpless, so totally dependent on me. I would have laid down my life for her then.

"Children make us weak. Why would anyone want them?" He straightened, clamping his mouth shut before he could rant any more foolishness.

Natalie laid a loving hand on his shoulder, pressing her face against his back. "Children are our greatest weakness, it is true. But they also bring meaning to an otherwise colorless existence."

LaCroix nodded. How true that was. Nicholas was everything to him. Of course, Natalie would never think of him as her child. He would have to allow her this foolish wish. If only mortal infants were not quite so... annoying.

"I could really use an ice cream," Nat said, with a wicked smile. "Shall we go?"

****

Perry lapped up the bowl of curare and cow's blood, licking the last drops from the floor and his chin. The poison had an offish taste, but not entirely unpleasant. The rolling deck seemed less noxious. His eyes felt heavy. He grinned up at Nick lazily. Perhaps this voyage would be tolerable after all.

"You'd better get into bed while you can still move," Nick advised. He pulled down one of the stow-away bunks and patted the cushions. Perry glanced at the master bed longingly. It was a little small for three. Reluctantly he jumped onto the bunk. * Safe journey,* he cautioned his charge.

"Always," Nick said. He patted the soft fur around Perry's ears. "Sleep well, boy."

Tracy shook her head. Nick was so weird sometimes, talking to a dog like he could understand. Lots of people talked to their pets, but only a few basket cases actually believed the conversation was reciprocated.

Nick laughed aloud. "I am not a basket case," he denied.

"Nick! Don't do that! Get out of my head," she snapped. "I hate it when you do that."

"Sorry," Nick said casually. "So how's sailing?"

"Fine. It's the only way to travel. When you can't fly, that is." Tracy stretched her arms and yawned. She had learned a lot all ready. Sailing was more than leaning back and looking at the telltales. She'd learned basic definitions and fundamental sailing theory and critical terminology. She inspected the bilge and removed the engine dipstick. She had watched as Vachon hoisted the main and Nick unrolled the jib, and she was even beginning to "feel" the boat as they sailed to windward against a bright southwesterly. When the boat suddenly began to heel excessively, she helped to reef in rising wind. They tacked and tacked again. Tracy felt a growing confidence. By the time they reached Chicago, she'd be an experienced sailor!

Urs wasn't as fond of sailing. She watched passively, enjoying the sights as Nick maneuvered about the boat unhindered by his disability. He looked so confident and at ease, a god of the air and sea, but she had absolutely no desire to learn how to help.

As dawn approached the horizon, they lowered the sails and dropped anchor for the day. Now, the best part of the journey would begin, Urs thought, with a shy, seductive smile.

Nick brushed Perry's fur thoroughly, feeling the silky coat with his fingers. After being confined on the small boat with Urs's worrying over him constantly, he was looking forward to heading out on his own. He wondered where to look for Lucius Snow. To call the old man eccentric was a gross understatement.

"Oh Nick, I am so looking forward to this exhibit! How sweet of you to find out about it for us!" Tracy hugged him impulsively, nearly knocking him over.

"Tracy, just because I don't have to breathe is no reason to strangle me," he croaked.

"Well, we're ready when you are," she said.

"You will go without me."

Urs stopped abruptly. "We will not. I thought the purpose of this trip was to spend some time together."

Nick stood slowly and set the dog comb back in the drawer. "We are together. All day. What use is a quilt exhibit to a blind man?"

Urs fell silent, feeling chastised, but Tracy was just getting warmed up. "Then we don't have to go, Nick. We can do something you'd find more interesting."

"No. Go to the quilt exhibit. I know you want to see it. But I don't. I want to revisit some of my favorite places, look up a few old friends. I'll be fine alone."

"I can come with you, Nick," Vachon volunteered.

"No, Vachon. Tracy and Urs are too young to be alone in this city, while I am perfectly capable. You will go with them. I will meet you all back here well before sunrise."

Silence fell. The three younger vampires exchanged worried glances Nick was unable to see, but he could sense their unease. He was getting angry. He allowed his beast to surface, his eyes glowed and fangs erupted.

"I am eight hundred years old! I can take care of myself! Now go!"

Urs flinched. Tracy was unimpressed. She stood up on her toes to peck Nick's cheek affectionately. "Of course you can, bro. Besides, Perry will be with you. Have a good time!"

Nick blinked, restoring his eyes to their deep blue. He chuckled, slapping Tracy's rump. "Good night, brat."

Vachon clapped his shoulder. "Make sure you have your cellphone then."

Nick pulled it out of his pocket to show them, then slid it back inside. He reached for Urs and kissed her. "Enjoy the show. And do not hurry back. I insist."

"Yes, sir," she said, giving a mock salute.

Nick waited until he felt their presence leave the sailboat before he went up on deck. He still got turned around almost as much as before, but now it no longer terrified him. He only had to find something familiar to find his way. Most buildings gave off no aura, but he could sense graveyards and churches by the chill of good and evil. He could tell bars by the smells of sweat, beer, and cigarette smoke. He knew the streets of Chicago as well as he knew Toronto, except for the suburbs which had sprung up since he'd last lived here.

"C'mon, Perry. Lucius used to live downtown, near the Sun Times. We'll start there."

Perry waited until he felt Nick take a firm grip on his harness before leaping into the air. They flew a short distance to the pier. Nick chose a direction and Perry guided him around the uneven pavement, the curbs and stoplights, and all the other hazards to which Nick was oblivious. Sure, he could take care of himself! In a pig's eye!

Nick had fed well and he was too excited to notice the ache in his gut. He was out alone, feeling proud and independent. He found the bus stop, and counted the correct change. When he got off, he breathed in deeply. Chicago still seemed like his home away from home.

LaCroix didn't like this city, and neither did Janette. Nick's years here had been brief times of independence. Perhaps that was why he had felt so impelled to come here now?

The Sun Times building was busy. Deadlines had come and gone, some reporters undoubtedly were still scrambling to produce their copy. Type was being set and the sleeping giants were pressing out tomorrow's paper. Before long crews of trucks would deliver stacks of papers to the many news stands and stores throughout the city. Nick had never worked for a newspaper, but when he had befriended Lucius Snow, he had taken more of an interest in the news. Lucius had a private office in the bowels of the building somewhere. He had been mostly retired even back then, but wherever a news story was breaking, he seemed to be right in the middle of it. He had an uncanny ability to find trouble.

Nick used powers of persuasion to slip passed the guard. It pleased him that he still had the touch. With Perry's help, he found an elevator and took it to the basement.

Some one dropped something... by the sounds it could have been a mop or a broom. "Nick? Nick Knight? It is you! Why, I would have known you anywhere! What brings you back to Chicago?"

Nick extended his hand and waited until the man took it. He clasped the hand, reaching out to sense the mortal before him. The man was old. Nick could tell by the slow shallow heartbeat, the wheezy breath, and the swollen, gnarled joints in the hand. The man also smelled of ammonia and cleansers, dust, grease, and chewing tobacco. Then Nick recognized him.

"You still work here?" Nick exclaimed. The janitor had been old years ago.

"Yes, yes, I do. But what brings you back to Chicago? And what happened to you?"

Nick cocked his head, wondering what the janitor meant. "Oh, my eyesight. It is a recent injury. I'm back just visiting. Do you have an address for Lucius?"

The janitor stammered quietly. "Um, Nick, I'm sorry to bring you bad news, but, well, Lucius passed on a few years ago."

Nick swallowed. The agony of loss washed over him. Of course, Lucius had been older even than the janitor. But, who now would rally to the old man's causes? Who would be there to save the day, as Lucius had always been?

"You come on in and sit a spell," the janitor said, taking Nick's arm and patting it paternally. "Lucius thought a lot of you. I know he missed you when you had to leave. I wish I could give you something of his, but, well I gave his few belongings to another young man."

"Who?"

"He's a local bar owner, by the name of Gary Hobson."

"What was he to Lucius," Nick pressed, surprised at the jealous feeling.

"He never actually met Lucius," the janitor said. "At least, not while he was alive. But, he seemed linked to him somehow. And he is consumed with that paper, just like Lucius."

Some young nut, no doubt, Nick thought derisively.

"You should go and talk to him," the janitor suggested. "Maybe Lucius left something for you among his things."

Nick shrugged indifferently. "Maybe. Where did you say he lived?"

He memorized the address. It wasn't far and he could just walk. "Thanks," he said, getting up to leave.

"You sure look great, son. Must be some truth to the story that sunlight ages a body."

Nick shook his hand. "I've taken up enough of your time. Thanks."

"You go visit him now. He's a little weird, but he kind of grows on you."

*Great,* Nick thought. * Just what I need.* He rolled his shoulders and breathed in deeply. Some of his earlier excitement had dwindled, but not all. Lucius would be missed.

He turned towards McGinty's Bar. Odd that this Gary person should be living there now, as he had met Lucius there often. It was a dark little hole, but cleaner than most bars and the music was never so loud that it hurt.

Pushing open the door, Nick tried to get a sense for the patrons. There were a few couples and groups at tables. There were warm food smells. The new management must have made some improvements. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of red wine. He'd be unable to drink any of it, but at least he could hold the glass.

"Is Gary Hobson around," he asked.

"He'll be in later. Are you a friend of his?"

"No, we never met."

"Then how did you hear about him?" The bartender sounded young and not too concerned. She was likely just making polite conversation.

"We had a mutual friend, a Lucius Snow."

The bartender made a sound of surprise. "Oh, hi, Marissa! Hey, come over here and meet - excuse me, what is your name?"

"Nick Knight."

"He's a friend of Lucius Snow's."

Nick craned his head to listen to the woman approaching. She took the stool next to him and accepted what smelled like coffee from the bartender. She smelled nice.

"So, any friend of Lucius's is a friend of ours. Hi. What brings you to Chicago?"

Nick found himself relaxing in Marissa's company. She had a warm, pleasant voice and made him feel truly welcome. They talked for nearly two hours! Gary Hobson never did show up, but she didn't seem too concerned about him. Snow had been like that too, hard to nail down.

Marissa seemed nervous though, as the night wore on. Nick heard her pulse quicken. "It must be late enough now. I should be going home."

"I'm sorry Gary isn't back yet," the bartender said. "Would you like me to call you a cab?"

"May I walk you home?" Nick offered. A woman alone wouldn't walk anywhere in the city this time of night.

"Oh, I don't want to trouble you," she said.

"No trouble at all," Nick said, getting to his feet. He reached down for Perry's harness and took a step away from the bar. Only, Perry didn't move. Nick tugged on the harness again, but the dog whined softly.

"What the?" Marissa exclaimed.

Nick reached down to touch the dog, knowing already that it wasn't Perry. The dog was a golden retriever, also wearing a harness, but it was mortal and female.

"I think you have my dog," Nick said, "and I got yours."

Marissa laughed. She released Perry's harness and reached out to touch Nick's sleeve. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize that you were blind also. But I like your taste. Golden Retrievers make the nicest friends."

Nick took Perry's harness in one hand, and looped Marissa's hand around his arm. "Where to, milady?" he asked with a flourish.

Marissa's laugh was soft and musical. Following her directions, he turned at the corner and together they strolled up the side street. He was too relaxed. He was having a good time, and these had once been his streets. Only, times had changed.

Suddenly, Perry growled menacingly, and Nick sensed a gang of kids approaching. He pulled Marissa in behind him protectively.

"What is it, Nick?" she asked nervously.

"Just some kids," he said. "You boys go on along home. We don't want any trouble." Nick lowered his voice, allowing the power of the vampire to slide through the words.

Some of the kids hesitated, but there were too many of them. The leader pressed closer.

"Look what we gots, boys. A coupla freaks. Won't worry about 'em givin' our faces to nobody!"

Marissa's hand trembled. Nick could hear her pulse thundering, distracting him. He tried to focus on the street gang. Perry strained at his harness, growling and baring his teeth. Nick tried to hold him back, but Perry broke free, knocking one of the boys to the ground. Nick smelled the boy's blood as it spurted from the carouche's bite.

Then all hell broke loose. Nick felt hands grab him, and searing pain as a knife plunged into his gut. He heard Perry yelp. Marissa was screaming. Nick's pockets were searched, they grabbed his wallet and dropped him to the sidewalk as they raced away.

"Perry!" Nick shouted. He clutched his belly, the blood oozing between his fingers. *Damn *, he thought. *I told them I could take care of myself... * He blinked, wondering vaguely what color his eyes were, and where was his dog?

"Nick, where are you? Nick!" Marissa shouted.

He groaned. It hurt, but he had to get up, had to protect the lady. He had failed her. How had the pleasant evening turned out so wrong?

He felt a dog's nose sniff him. He started to reach for it, but it wasn't Perry. Then Marissa touched his face.

"Oh dear God," she prayed. "You're cold as death! I'll call for help. Please hang on!"

*No help, * he thought. He tried to make the words come out.

"Marissa!" shouted another voice.

"Gary! I'm here! Come quick! Nick's been hurt!"

Another pair of hands was on him. Nick curled up, trying to pull away from the stranger.

"Nick, this is my friend, Gary Hobson," Marissa's voice comforted him.

"I'm so sorry, Marissa," Gary said. "The paper changed. This wasn't in there this morning. Mister, just lie still."

Nick was going to pass out. He tried to fight it. Where was Perry? "My dog?" he demanded. "Where's my dog?"

Gary looked around. He saw blood on the pavement. "I don't see him. Maybe he'll come back on his own. You're bleeding pretty hard, we have to get you to a hospital."

"No! No hospital," Nick shouted.

Gary ignored him as he pulled out a cellphone and dialed. "Marissa, the emergency van is just a few blocks away," he said. "I passed them as I was going home. They'll be here soon."

Marissa touched Nick's face again. "Hang on there, Nick. Please!"

Nick closed his eyes. It didn't really hurt, either. That was the strangest thing. He missed Perry.

A large vehicle approached. It rattled as it pulled to a stop, but the door flung open and several people were pawing at Nick. He tried to turn on his side to keep them away, but they were stronger than he was right now.

"He's got no pulse," said a woman's voice.

Nick forced his eyes open then and the woman screamed.

"Get me inside," Nick said softly, concentrating on the nearest face.

"Let's get him in the van."

Nick felt them lift him. The movement jarred something and pain burst through his gut with vengeance. He grit his teeth, but not before a loud cry escaped. He heard Marissa sobbing.

"Can you tell me what happened," someone was asking her. Marissa gasped as she gave an account. Nick tried to sense the doctors around him as he worried how he'd get out of this mess. He was laid on a small table, thick wads of gauze stuffed over the knife wound. The doctors were going to give him an IV, and run him in to the emergency room for x-rays.

"No hospital," Nick growled fiercely.

The woman objected, but the male doctor silenced her. His voice was gentle, and he spoke with an Eastern European accent. "Why no hospital? Is it the money? Or against your beliefs?"

"Send her away," Nick commanded.

The woman made a disparate sound, but Nick heard her leave, as she went out to check on Marissa, no doubt.

"We are alone now," came the cultured voice. "My name is Luka Kovach. You have a serious injury. You are bleeding profusely. If I do not do something, you will die."

Then Nick heard him utter a cry of alarm. Nick blinked, wondering if he'd slipped.

"You're eyes! You're a... a... dear God. You're a vampire," Luka whispered.

Nick sighed. Damn it. Now what?

Instantly a unit of blood was placed in his hands. Nick allowed his fangs to descend and he drained the unit, and three more afterwards. Luka cut away the blood-soaked, ruined shirt and removed the soiled wads of gauze.

"You're still bleeding," he said. "I do not understand. Shouldn't this have closed by now?"

"Not for me," Nick said wearily. "It's a long story. But my wounds take longer to heal."

"So, what can I do? I know I can't just sew you up."

"How do you know?"

Luka laughed lightly. "In my country, many old people believe in vampires. I have even met one or two before. Don't worry, I know that is not allowed. I will keep your identity secret." The doctor put more gauze on the wound then, and taped it tightly with wide strips of adhesive. Then he gave Nick his cellphone number. "Call me, if this is still bleeding tomorrow."

"Thank you," Nick answered sincerely.

"No problem. A vampire once saved my life. I'm glad to return the favor." He took more gauze and gently washed the blood from Nick's hands and chest, then he helped Nick to the sidewalk, where Marissa and Gary still waited.

Marissa was still weeping, and Gary was talking to a reporter. By the tone of his voice, it wasn't a conversation he wanted to be having.

"Your friend here is very lucky," Luka told Marissa. "The wound is not as severe as it first looked. Nick, get some rest, and if you have any difficulties, give me a call."

"Oh, that's a relief," Marissa exclaimed. "Nick, I was so worried about you! Where are you staying?"

Nick wanted his dog back. How had the reporter gotten here so quickly? And where would he go now? He could not return to the boat, not without Perry. This whole vacation would be ruined if the younger vampires insisted on babysitting him.

"I don't have a place yet," Nick said.

"Then you're going home with Gary."

"What?" Gary said, whirling around. "No, no, Marissa."

"Yes, Gary. You said this was partly your fault. Now you'll give Nick a hand, at least until his dog is found, and I won't hear another word about it."

Gary stuttered some, but he agreed. Nick put an arm on Gary's shoulder as he still felt a little woozy, and let the mortal help him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Nick," Marissa said. She leaned in close and patted his face gently. Then she let one of the police officers give her a ride.

Nick felt something odd about Gary. Even as weak as he was, he knew that Gary was not what he seemed. Maybe he should give in and call Vachon anyway? But Marissa trusted him, perhaps foolishly. Nick had to learn more about him, if only for Marissa's sake.

Gary was stuttering something polite. Nick hadn't been listening. He found Gary's speech somewhat annoying. Gary seemed to be very young. Nick pegged him for about 25, give or take a year. And he had a very low heart rate. He must run a lot.

They went up a narrow stairs, and then Gary was opening the door to his apartment. "I'll get you one of my shirts," Gary said. "Yours is ruined."

Nick was about to offer to repay him, when he remembered that the kids had taken his wallet. Silently he accepted the shirt. It was a little wide through the shoulders and not as long as he liked, but it would suffice. Gary led him to the living room where Nick sank gratefully onto a couch. Almost immediately a cat leaped into his lap and started to knead its paws, purring loudly. Nick reached out tentatively, letting the cat sniff his hand before he stroked its ears.

"Imagine that," Gary commented. "The cat isn't usually so friendly."

"My father's girlfriend has a cat," Nick admitted. "The little furball usually sleeps on my bed." He yawned, then shut his mouth and shuddered. He was so tired.

Gary stammered something again. Nick only half heard him, something about a pillow. In moments a soft pillow was laid on the arm of the couch. Nick felt it, and stretching out, laid down. A cover was placed over him. He heard a switch being flipped, no doubt turning the room dark. He smiled ruefully. What did it matter to him if Gary left all the lights on?

A phone rang. Nick listened, wondering for a moment if it might be his friends, but of course, they wouldn't know where he was.

"Hello Marissa," Gary said, taking the phone into his bedroom for privacy. Nick could hear him anyway, and Marissa as well. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep. If he were a good neighbor, he would tune out the conversation. But he didn't trust Gary.

"I told you, the paper changed," Gary said. "This morning, it said you were mugged. That's why I told you to wait for me. Then, I got held up at the sleep-in at the science museum looking for a lost child, and when I checked again, it said that three boys were attacked by a seeing-eye dog. There was nothing in the paper about you or him."

"Gary, those boys mugged us! Nick's dog was only defending us."

"That's not what the paper said."

"Then it lied!"

They weren't making sense, Nick thought. Maybe he was more tired than he realized. Of course their attack wouldn't be in the paper yet, it had just happened. He would have to get in touch with his friends before tomorrow's news hit the street, though.

Gary came back into the living room to hang up the phone. "It's been a long day, Nick. I'm going to get some sleep."

"Likewise," Nick said. "Thank you for the couch."

"'night."

Nick waited until he heard Gary's breathing slow and he knew he was asleep. Then he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and called Vachon.

Vachon answered it on the fourth ring. "Sorry, Knight," he said. "We passed this nightclub on the way back to the boat, and Urs recognized one of the singers, and we had to go in. It's pretty hopping here, if you want to join us."

"No, thanks. I've met some old friends, and I'm going to crash at their place for the day, so don't worry." He listened as Vachon related the news to Tracy and Urs, then heard them all wish him well. Exhausted, he returned the phone to his pocket and went to sleep.

A soft, feminine hand touched his cheek. Nick startled to wakefulness, flinching away from the contact as his fangs exploded.

"It's alright, Nick. It's me, Marissa. You've been asleep for nearly ten hours. I wanted to see how you are doing."

He listened, reaching out to sense the room. Gary was gone, and there were no others present, just her and her dog. He felt a sharp pang as he worried for Perry. At least, with just a blind woman, he was safe from discovery. He swallowed, forcing his fangs to withdraw.

"Good evening, Marissa. I'm sorry about last night."

"It wasn't your fault, Nick. You have no reason to be sorry." He sat up, wincing a little. His stomach still hurt. Tentatively he touched the gauze bandages inside his shirt. His fingers came away sticky. * Damn, * he thought.

Marissa touched him again. "How are you doing? You feel so cold."

"I'm a little stiff and sore," he admitted. "But I'll be fine. I have to go and look for my dog."

"Gary went out to look for him. I'm supposed to bring you downstairs and see that you get something to eat. Then we can go to the police and give them a statement. How much money did the kids take from you?"

Nick didn't want to go to the police. It had been forty years since he worked there and everyone he knew should have retired, but there was that photo of him, recognizing him for heroism the night his partner was wounded. Of course, forty years was about the right length of time... he could just pretend to be his own son. It made a certain strange logic, like father like son.

He stood and sat back down again suddenly as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Take it easy," Marissa chided gently. "I disagree with that doctor's evaluation. Any knife wound is serious."

"I'll be fine," Nick insisted. "But I really couldn't eat a thing right now."

The door burst open and Gary flew into the room. "Good, you're up," he said. "I- I'm supposed to take you down to the station now."

Nick tried to stand again, moving more slowly this time. "Did you find any sign of my dog?" he asked.

"No, I'm sorry." Gary's voice dropped. He sounded sincere. Nick wondered if he was judging the boy too harshly. He took Gary's arm and followed him downstairs, getting into a minivan. Gary reached around to snap his seatbelt. Nick was reminded of Natalie, and all the times she had done that for him. The Caddy didn't have seatbelts, and since an accident would only be mildly annoying, he'd never got in the habit of wearing one.

Marissa and her dog climbed in as well, then Gary started the engine. "One of the kids went to police, claiming that your dog attacked him first," Gary said. "They've put out an APB on him. That should be good news, actually, since it means that the entire force is looking for him, but when he's found, he may be impounded for a while."

"Perry was defending us," Nick snapped. "If not for him, Marissa could have been killed."

"I - I - understand, b- but the kid had twenty-six stitches in his arm. And he denied that there were any others with him. It's your word against his." Gary wasn't saying everything he knew. Nick sensed he was keeping something from him, and noted that Gary stuttered more when he was trying to deceive. He wondered if Marissa had noticed that as well.

"Mine and Marissa's," Nick amended.

"Yeah, well the word of two blind people isn't going to be taken very seriously," Gary said. "I believe you, but the police don't put much store by anything I say."

The van stopped. Nick heard Gary draw in a deep breath before he opened the door and got out. Why did he dread facing the police? What was it he was hiding? Nick felt his police instincts kick in, and he thrilled at the sense of purpose.

It bugged him a little to depend on Gary to get around, but until Perry was found, there was nothing he could do about it. He felt a strange sense of welcome as he walked through the familiar building, remembering smells and sounds. He was brought into a noisy bullpen and shown to a chair. Marissa took a chair about thirty feet away. They would be questioned separately, then their stories compared. It was standard procedure.

The police detective assigned to Nick had a pleasant voice. Nick recognized certain elements of his speech and guessed the officer was native to downtown Chicago. The officer introduced himself as "Detective Powers." Nick nodded, then gave his full name.

"I am Detective Nicholas Knight, Toronto Police Department," he said.

Powers gave a surprised grunt. "A police officer? What precinct? What brings you here?"

Nick told him the information and heard the officer scribble it down. He also heard someone tap into a computer, no doubt bringing up the information to corroborate his claim. Almost immediately he sensed a change in the room. He was one of them.

Several others crowded around Powers's desk to welcome him and exchange pleasantries. Then someone recognized him. "Say, was your father the Nicholas Knight that once worked here?"

Nick nodded.

"Jeez, that's amazing. You look just like him. How's he doing these days?"

Nick thought fast. Toronto believed he had been orphaned and raised by LaCroix. He had to keep that much. "He passed away when I was very young," he said then. "But my foster father told me about him."

A cup of coffee was placed in his hands. He heard a dozen more words of welcome, before the captain finally chased them all back to work. "It's a cryin' shame that this had to happen to you, Detective. We'll do our best to find your dog. He is up to date on his shots, isn't he?"

Was he? Nick had never asked. He knew Perry couldn't have rabies, and so he nodded, and yet, if they wanted proof, there would be no record, no veterinarian bills. He'd have to call LaCroix tonight. Perhaps Larry Merlin could work another miracle in creating a virtual paper trail for the carouche.

"Now," Powers said, clearing his throat. "What can you tell me about last night?"

Nick began, mentioning what time it was when he had left the bar. He described what street they had turned on, and how far they got before he heard the kids approach. "There were about fifteen of them," he said. He knew there were fifteen exactly, he had heard that many heartbeats, and yet he couldn't explain that. "They grabbed Marissa's purse first, then Perry got away from me. I heard him yelp. I think one of them knifed him, just before they got me."

The officer shuddered, making a sound of disgust. Nick had wondered about bringing the police into this, but now one of "their own" had been injured. Those kids didn't stand a chance. Nick couldn't work up any remorse. He wanted his dog back.

He heard Marissa's statement draw to a close, and Gary answered a few questions as well. Nick turned his attention back to Powers. "What's Hobson's story?" He wouldn't have been able to ask before, but now he was certain they would talk to him.

"Gary's harmless," the officer said. "A bit of a kook. He's also cursed, like, he's always at the wrong place at the wrong time. Some of the others don't trust him, because he knows things. But he's okay. He rescued my wife when she was drowning at a pool in a women's health spa. I don't know what he was doing there, or how he knew she was in trouble, but the fact remains, she's alive because of him."

Nick shook his hand, and accepted his assistance to stand. His stomach was throbbing. He would need to feed soon, and he should change the bandages, before they soaked through onto his borrowed shirt. Maybe he'd have to stop back and see that doctor again.

"You sure made friends easily," Gary grumbled. "You could have told me you were a cop."

"You didn't ask," Nick said.

"Gary, how about dinner? Nick hasn't eaten yet, and I could use something myself," Marissa interrupted.

Gary did that stuttering thing again, that warned Nick he was no longer being truthful. "I can't right now, Marissa, I have that uh, uh, thing, that I do, on uh, Wednesday nights..."

"Oh, yes," Marissa agreed, buying the flimsy excuse as though it were some private message. "You run along. Just drop us off at the bar. I'll see you later?"

Settled once again on Gary's couch, Nick accepted a cup of coffee from Marissa. Its greasy smell turned his stomach, but he thanked her politely. "What is it with Gary," he asked. "He seems a little odd."

Marissa laughed. "He is different. But he means well."

"Have you known him long? I don't trust him."

"For years," she said. "And strange, but he doesn't trust you, either. I think you both are being foolish."

"I should make a few calls," Nick said. "Then, perhaps you would like to go somewhere?"

She smiled. "That sounds nice. I'll be downstairs when you are ready."

First he called the doctor, using the cellphone number he had given him.

"Doctor Kovach," the cultured, accented voice answered.

"Yes, this is Nick," he said. "I could use your help."

Luka promised to be over as soon as he could, and he would bring something for him to drink. Then Nick called Vachon.

"The girls had a blast at that quilt exhibit," Vachon told him. "They had to go back tonight. Tomorrow night they want to see the submarine at the Museum of Science and Industry. Want to come?"

"No, thanks," Nick said. "I've been on one before. I'll just hang out with my friends. You have fun, though."

Finally, he reported his stolen credit cards and arranged to have funds made available. A courier would be sent over within the hour to deliver a new card and an amount cash. Nick smiled ruefully, wondering what Tracy would call the ability to hypnotized someone over the phone - the newest technique in vampire ability, the tele-whammy?

When Luka arrived, he changed the dressings on the knife wound. "This does look better," he told Nick. "At this rate, by morning it should be healed over."

"How can I thank you," Nick asked simply.

"If you ever get to Croatia, save someone's child."

Nick nodded, sensing the strong emotions in the young doctor. "I will."

Later, Nick dialed the information hotline for a listing of current attractions. Another phone call and he had reservations for the Strolling Strings concert at the Candlelight Dinner Theater. He checked his watch. The trip to the police station had taken longer than he'd thought. They would have to hurry to make the concert.

Marissa seemed unsure. "Nick, I'm not dressed for a concert," she stalled.

He grinned. Although the gesture was lost on her, she could hear the humor in his voice. "You look great to me," he quipped.

When she persisted, Nick told her more about it. "This isn't the Chicago Symphony. It is a group of kids. Semi-casual is fine. There will be a dinner served, and the kids wander among the tables while they play."

Marissa's response was to take his arm. "Lead on," she said.

They were shown to a table. The smells of food were faint enough that Nick guessed the meal had not yet been served. There was a hum of conversation around the room. He caught snips and pieces from half a dozen tables. Some were businessmen, some were retired wealthy couples. A few were the proud parents. Then the noise level dropped as dishes were being served. Nick tried not to gag at the Rosemary Chicken set before him. He hoped Marissa's dog was hungry. When all the food was set, then there was a rustle of satin as two dozen children entered.

"The girls wear blue taffeta gowns, and the boys are in dark suits with blue taffeta cummerbunds," Nick whispered for Marissa's benefit. At least, that's what the kids had been wearing the last time he'd seen them play. He knew the director well and the small group did not have the funds to change their costumes often.

"How do you know about them?" Marissa asked softly, but before Nick could answer, the children raised their instruments.

A quiet hush fell on the guests. The bows were placed almost silently on their strings, then at once they all began to play. The first number was the New World Symphony by Anton Dvorak. It was a stirring song, symbolic of the new life the European immigrants hoped to find as they journeyed to America. Nick had heard it many times before, but never as sweet as now. For these children, the Suzuki students from some of the poorest homes of inner-city Chicago, the new life symbolized was their own.

"They are good," Marissa whispered, a sense of awe in her voice. "How old are they?"

"We can ask the director after the performance," Nick began, "but the last time I heard them, the youngest was only seven. A few of them are in high school, but the majority are about twelve years old."

The young musicians strolled among the tables as they moved into their next number, a medley of songs from the 1920's. Another classical number, and then some fiddle music, then two young violinists came right up to Nick's table as they moved into their medley of Irish songs. "To My Wild Irish Rose" rang out on first and second violins right in front of Marissa.

The children played one more song, "Happy Birthday", for one of the guests, then they exited amid thundering applause. Nick helped Marissa to her feet. "Come with me. We'll say hello to the kids before they leave," he whispered.

Marissa didn't understand her dog's reluctance to leave, but Nick suspected the chicken breast wasn't quite all gone. Still, the well-trained golden retriever helped the blind couple through the maze of tables until they joined the young musicians in a back hall of the dinner theater, where they were putting their instruments back into their cases.

The director came over and gave Nick a warm embrace. "Hello, Nick! What a pleasant surprise! Why didn't you call and tell me you were going to be here?"

Nick shrugged. "I didn't know you'd be performing here until a few hours ago. Mrs. Wernike, I'd like you to meet Marissa Walker. Marissa, this lady is responsible for training over 500 children to make music."

"It's "Anne"," the director amended. "And Suzuki isn't about teaching kids to play the violin, or the viola, or the piano. It is about teaching them to have beautiful souls capable of enjoying music."

Marissa smiled. "I'm impressed. They are so very talented."

"Ah, that they are," the director stated proudly. "But it is a tenet of Suzuki dogma that talent is taught and not inherited. These are just normal kids. They come from a variety of ethnic backgrounds. Many come to me from poor homes, from dangerous neighborhoods where drugs and violence are a way of life. We show them that life can be so much more than that."

"How did you get funding for this?" Marissa knew how the public schools worked. For the past twenty years music programs were being cut all across the nation.

Nick shifted uneasily, suddenly squirming like a nervous schoolboy. The director grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze. "This young knight rescued us," she said proudly. "He donated the money to buy a hundred violins and violas in all sizes. That was the birth of our program."

The director saw a hurt look on the face of one of her older students, and turned to Nick to ask why he hadn't greeted him yet. Then she saw the way he held Marissa's arm, and although his eyes smiled, they didn't quite focus. She saw the guide dog at Marissa's heel. "Come over here, Eddy. Nick, you remember Eddy, don't you?"

The teenage boy shuffled as he approached reluctantly. Nick grinned as the familiar scent came to him. "Eddy Mansen? Little Eddy? How are you?" He extended his hand and waited for the youth to shake it. The boy then realized Nick was blind.

"I'm doing fine," he mumbled nervously.

"Marissa, Eddy is the future Itzak Perlman. He is fantastic."

"Thanks, Nick. For everything. I got in to Interlocken."

Nick smiled proudly. The director wasn't through singing his praises, though.

"Nick provided the funds so Eddy could make his audition at the prestigious high school in Michigan. Eddy qualified for a full scholarship."

"Anne, I'd better leave before you put my name in for sainthood," he grumbled.

"Oh, not you," she insisted. "You're the devil's own son, I'm sure. A true rogue but with a good heart. You two have a pleasant evening. I have to get these children home. School starts in two days, and their parents want them to start getting to bed earlier."

Nick and Marissa walked with the director as she herded the children outside towards their waiting bus, when she made a loud sound of annoyance. "You! What do you think you are doing? Get away from that bus!"

A familiar young voice started to stutter. "Ah, hello, I'm uh, inspecting your vehicle. Your inspection sticker is due to expire soon. You need to have it looked at right away."

"Gary?" Marissa asked.

"Young man, the sticker is good for another three months and the bus works just fine. Get away from there or I'll call the police."

Gary's heart rate elevated drastically. Nick cocked his head and took a step nearer, curious to why the young man smelled of fear.

"You cannot drive the kids home in this," Gary insisted.

"It is their bedtime! Go away." She pushed her way past Gary and began to usher the children onto the bus.

"Nick, Gary's right. If he says the bus isn't safe, he's telling the truth. You have to do something!" Marissa smelled of fear now, too. Nick reached for the side of the bus, then he walked around it slowly. He smelled gas and oil and chewing gum and exhaust, but there was another smell as well. It was stronger by the back, passenger-side tires. He tapped with his toe and heard a small puddle splat, although it had not rained. Reaching under the wheel well, he found the two halves of the break line... someone had sliced it through.

"Anne, look at this," Nick said softly, trying not to alarm the children.

"Oh, dear God," she breathed. Turning, she glared at Gary. "How could you do such a thing!"

Marissa touched the woman's arm. "He didn't, ma'am. I can't tell you how he knew that the children were in danger. He sometimes gets these feelings, and I've learned he's almost never wrong. But he would never intentionally hurt some one."

Anne began to tremble. Nick pulled her into his embrace, wondering when the vibrant young music teacher had grown so much older. "It's all right. You're safe, and the children are, for now. Let me call some cabs to take all of you home, and we'll have the bus repaired in no time."

The director nodded meekly, still trembling. "They're just kids! Who would want to hurt a busload of children?"

Unfortunately, too many people, Nick thought sadly.

Anne gasped then, and turned angrily. "Put that damn thing away! You've no right to plaster pictures of these children all over your paper tomorrow!"

"This is news, ma'am," came a smooth voice that sounded vaguely familiar. It was the reporter from last night's attack.

Gary grabbed the reporter and dragged him away. Nick heard him stutter angrily as he made up another story. "This is not a story, just an accident. The kids are fine, and you can just take your camera and go look for mold growing somewhere."

Nick smiled as he pulled his cellphone and called for three stretch limousines. The teacher did not want any children going anywhere without an adult, so Nick and Marissa got in one limo, Gary in another, and the teacher in the third. They managed to cram all the young students and their instruments inside. It took over an hour to deliver them to their homes. Nick wanted to talk more with Anne about the incident, to find out if anyone had ever threatened her or her program, but she was too distraught. That would have to wait. He also wanted to know how Gary had got there and what he was doing. Gary, however, seemed in a terrible rush once they got back to McGinty's. Marissa accepted the flimsy excuse he babbled off, and Gary ran away into the night.

"Weird doesn't begin to explain that," Nick mumbled to himself.

"I enjoyed the concert," Marissa said. "Thank you."

"Is this good night?" he asked, surprised at the sudden panic that swept over him.

"Hm. It's late. I have to work in the morning."

Of course. Not all blind people worked night shift, he thought dryly. And he realized that he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. It was strange, really. He knew he wasn't romantically interested in her, but there was just something about her. Perhaps because she was blind, he felt such a bond? He was relaxed in her company and he felt whole. He didn't have to worry about his fangs slipping or what color his eyes were, or if his shirt was buttoned up wrong. She was so easy to talk with.

"I should get back to my boat then, I guess," Nick said.

"Boat?"

"Ah, yes. I sailed here with some friends," he said awkwardly.

"Then why didn't you say so yesterday? We should have called them, let them know you were hurt!" Marissa's voice didn't get louder, but Nick felt like she was scolding him no less.

"I haven't been blind for very long," he explained. "Barely eight months. And in all that time, I've never been left alone. My father, his girlfriend, my litter sister, her boyfriend, and all of my friends and acquaintances have been hovering over me, making sure I don't stub my toe on the way to the bathroom. It is getting to be more than just annoying. Traveling to McGinty's yesterday with Perry was one of my first times ever being truly on my own. If they knew I'd been injured, it would have been the last time."

Marissa sighed, laughing humorlessly. "Nick, if that wound had been any deeper, it certainly would have been the last."

"Please, Marissa. I'll have to tell them about Perry, but don't say a word to them about the knife."

She patted his arm consolingly. "I won't say a word. If they aren't alert enough to see your pain, than perhaps they don't deserve to know."

"Thanks," he said. He called Vachon then and briefly explained about Perry. Marissa sat with him while they both waited for their rides. Nick grinned broadly when Vachon showed up on a Harley Davidson. The Spaniard just grinned without explaining how he'd acquired it. "May I see you again while I'm here," Nick asked.

"I'd like that," Marissa answered.

Vachon whistled as he revved the bike. "Man, Nick. You keep one in every port?"

Vachon didn't take him right back to the boat. "The girls are out flying over the city looking for him," Vachon said. "I thought we'd travel on ground. I'll watch for traffic and you call for your dog."

"Thanks, Javier," Nick said sincerely.

They searched for the rest of the night, but Nick could not sense Perry anywhere.

Natalie stared through the glass at the children in the Day School. She'd spoken with the director, and volunteered her time for a few weeks. She would come in every afternoon at 3:00, and do whatever was needed. Yesterday she had read a story to them, and the day before she walked with them and their teacher to the local ice cream shop. The owner had brought the kids behind the counter and showed them how everything worked, then let them make their own ice cream sundaes. She had marveled at his patience, as nearly as much ice cream was wasted as actually made it into their bellies. They had been noisy with their excitement. While she had enjoyed seeing their faces light up, she couldn't wait to get into the restroom to scrub all of their hot fudge-sauce stickiness from her hands, knees, shirt, and shoes.

The day before that she had tried to play with them, getting down on the floor and stacking blocks. Nick had made it look so easy, several months ago, when she'd seen him play with Charlotte in the day school at St. John's. She felt faintly foolish. She didn't know what to say to the children. They blithely ignored her. Eventually she was asked to move, so they could expand their construction over the area of floor space she had occupied.

The day before that she had supervised the art corner, helping one child after another to put on a smock, clipping large sheets of newsprint to the small easels, printing their names on the wet, sloppy messes they called paintings, and cringing as the yellow tempera paint stained her new jeans.

Today, she just observed them through the glass. The teachers were so natural with them. They were patient and kind. She did not belong here.

The director came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "It is different when they are your own," she said softly.

"What do you mean?"

The director smiled. "I don't mean to pry. But when a busy, professional woman, especially one in her thirties, volunteers here, I suspect that they are considering children of their own. Don't let the awkwardness you feel here dissuade you."

Natalie felt a blush stain her cheeks, but she did not deny it. "How can I ignore the fact I'm not cut out to be a mother," she said.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. Not all mothers can work at a day care. This is demanding work, and requires great patience. A mother isn't a playmate. A mother is someone who would consider the needs of her child above her own, whether she provides for those needs herself, or ensures that someone else does."

Natalie nodded. She felt very close to tears. "Thank you," she whispered. She turned away and left.

*****

"Nick, wake up! Come on, you have to wake up, this ship is going to blow!"

Nick felt the hands shake him, but he was still trapped in the deep sleep of the undead. He struggled to wake, swimming through layers of darkness. Cold water splashed on his face. He threw the hands off him fiercely. Gary crashed into the opposite wall, cursing as he gasped for breath.

Nick blinked, forcing his fangs to withdraw. "What are you doing here," he demanded.

"Trying to save your life," Gary grumbled, "although this isn't worth it."

Nick sat up and tried to get his bearings. He was back on his boat in Chicago. How had Gary found him? He hadn't told anyone where he was staying, and there were dozens of marinas on the great lake.

"Look! This boat is going to blow up any minute. I came to warn you, but it is time to go. Are you coming with me!" Gary spoke firmly, with none of the stuttering that was characteristic of one of his fabrications.

"How do you know," Nick demanded.

"I'll tell you later! Let's go!" Gary tugged on his arm, punctuating the urgency.

Nick pulled free. He had crashed on the couch last night. Not wanting to reveal the nearly healed knife wound to anyone, he'd alienated them with one of his less-than stellar attitudes. He went to the bed to shake Urs awake and called to Tracy. The younger vampires slept more soundly than he did. They had driven themselves too hard last night as they searched for his carouche. They were exhausted. "Come, Urs. We are in danger."

Vachon awoke then and flew at the mortal invader, knocking him to the ground. Gary shouted an expletive before Nick could harness the Spaniard.

"Sorry," Nick said, offering Gary a hand up. "They're all just a bit over-protective." He hoped the excuse would be enough.

"Nice to meet you all! Now let's go!"

Nick pulled a quilt from the bed and threw it over Urs. Vachon sleepily did the same for Tracy. "The girls first, Gary," he said.

"I didn't know there were four of you here, but I think we can all fit in my dingy," Gary said. "If we move."

"You and Vachon will take the girls first," Nick explained. "Vachon can return for me. Go!"

Gary took the blanket-wrapped girl and hurried through the narrow stairs, banging his head on the low ceiling. When he stepped onto the deck, the girl cried out. He smelled something burning. Would he smell the fuse? Was it already too late? He threw her over his shoulder and carried her down the rope ladder onto the swaying little dingy, surprised to see the one called Vachon already there. The dark stranger laid his bundle on the deck and spread another quilt over both girls, their muffled sobs wafting up from beneath. Gary stared at Vachon. His dark hair touched his shoulders, but his pale complexion was badly burned, his eyes were golden orbs in a wild expression.

"Take them away! I'll catch up," Vachon commanded. Gary stared for a moment at the sharp points of inhuman teeth, but he felt compelled to obey. Then Vachon leaped the distance back onto the deck of the sailboat. Gary ignored the crying girls as he took the oars and started to row. Then the bomb exploded.

The little dingy was lifted and tossed wildly. Wood splintered through the air. One board whacked Gary's forehead, right where he'd smacked it not moments before. He struggled furiously to keep the boat righted and pulled on the oars to bring it to the pier.

"Nick?" came a cry from under the blanket. "Nick? Vachon?"

Gary stared at the wreckage. He could see no one trying to swim away, no bodies floating unconscious in the flotsam. He blinked as the tears overflowed. He had failed. That didn't happen very often. He had rescued people every day for the past three years, but the small handful of souls he'd lost would ever haunt him. He hadn't known Nick, hadn't even liked him, but he would mourn him with the rest.

At the pier he had to carry the girls up one at a time. They seemed helpless. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, and a thin trickle of blood oozed down his face. Still, they were probably in shock, and so he excused them. He carried them to his minivan and slammed the door. Getting in the driver's seat, he touched his forehead. What should he do with them? Hand them over to the police, perhaps. Already he could hear the sirens in the distance.

One bundle moved. A young blonde woman emerged, but her face was red. It was not the red of tears or hysterics, but of severe burns. "You must go out and search for him!" she pleaded. "He is weak. He cannot survive the sun!"

"You are injured. I will take you to a hospital," Gary said softly.

"No! I will heal. But you've got to find Nick! Please, go look for him!"

The other face emerged, equally burned. The woman looked sad but not hysterical. "Nick still lives, Urs," she said. "I feel it. We must seek shelter now before the police arrive."

"We should stay and talk to them," Gary said, although facing the police was never a pleasant task. He'd been arrested on many occasions as a prime suspect in the very crimes he tried to prevent.

"We cannot," the second woman, and the younger of the two, said firmly. "I assure you, we have done nothing wrong. But you must take us somewhere safe. Then I beg you to return and search for my brother."

Gary felt a compulsion to do as she asked. He tried to shake his head clear of cobwebs and was instantly sorry. The throbbing was so intense that he blinked back tears. Shifting into gear, he pulled away from the watery scene of death and destruction. "I guess I can take you to my place," he muttered under his breath. "I don't know why they call it a bachelors apartment. 'Home for Strays' is more accurate."

Nick smelled the chemicals an instant before the explosion. A violent force threw him into the exploding bulkhead of the ship like dry leaves before a hurricane. He heard Vachon's cry of alarm briefly, then nothing. Grateful that they had shared the blood kiss recently, Nick reached out to sense the young Spaniard. Vachon was still alive, although he wouldn't be for long. He was unconscious, floating on a piece of the deck, the sun burning his naked back.

Cold water sucked at his clothes. The weight of wet things was pulling him down. He couldn't breathe- he must have injured a rib and it was pressing on his lungs. Nick forced himself to calm down, knowing breathing was unnecessary unless he needed to draw breath to speak. Vachon needed him right now. He kicked off his boots now filling with cold lake water and began to swim towards the younger vampire. Sunlight burned his face and hands, its intense rays magnified as it reflected off the water's surface. Focusing beyond the pain, he reached out for the Spaniard. Although he did not feel himself move, suddenly Vachon was in his hands.

Nick grabbed the unconscious form and dove under the water. Away from the source of light, driven by an instinct for survival that was stronger than mere sight, Nick knew which direction to go. Down, down, and deeper still. The harbor was deep here. It brought back painful memories of the night he had drowned in the Humbar River, eight months ago, on the last night he had been able to see. This was different, though. He was not chained to cement blocks, bleeding from a nearly mortal blow to the head. He was free to move about. He could find the deepest part of the water and the shadows cast by the boats still moored above. He and Vachon would not suffer any further damage from the sun.

He had to keep Vachon from inhaling, though, which would fill his lungs with cold water and make his stay here far more miserable. Nick touched Vachon with fingers now numb from cold. He could not speak, but he maintained the link he shared with his young friend. Vachon had a few wooden splinters embedded in his chest and arms. Nick found them and gently pulled each one free, licking tenderly at the few drops of blood that briefly oozed from each small wound before the cold water slowed their escape. The small offering was not enough to heal Nick, nor to ease his growing hunger, but it did help to keep him awake and focused on Vachon. He could not sleep today. He must keep vigil, and keep moving, as the shadows above danced with the ever-changing position of the sun.

On his fingers moved, exploring the damaged flesh. Vachon's back was a raw open wound, the layers of skin completely burned away. In a mortal, or even an infant vampire, the wound would be fatal. Vachon was healthy; Nick was not worried for him, but he knew the pain would be excruciating when the Spaniard awoke.

*Sleep, my friend, * Nick commanded him, with a power he was only beginning to acknowledge as real. *You will sleep all day and I will protect you. You will not feel pain. *

He felt Vachon's unconscious form relax somewhat into his embrace. Nick clutched him tightly and willed the sun to set early that day.

*****

"I failed, Marissa," Gary confessed. He sounded pathetic, Tracy thought. She hurt all over and she needed to sleep, but she felt a sense of urgency keeping her up. Urs seemed to feel no such need, as she slept soundly on the couch beneath the blanket.

Marissa was a pretty woman, early thirties maybe, with dark skin and wide-set eyes of the warmest shade of brown. Now those eyes were weeping, as she and Gary both believed Nick was dead.

"He's okay," Tracy told them again. "He is not dead. I would know it if he were."

Gary gave her a disbelieving look, but he made no comment.

"Look, I'm linked to him somehow. I can't explain. I don't suppose you've ever had to face something so unbelievable that you struggled to make sense of your altered reality, but it's true."

Gary gave an odd, humorless laugh.

Marissa sank into a chair. Gary poured her a cup of coffee which she wrapped her fingers around, but made no effort to drink from it.

"Okay, try this. I knew when Nick first realized that his friend, Lucius Snow, was dead. I felt his wave of grief profoundly, even though I was across town in the museum."

Gary didn't seem impressed, but Marissa was listening.

"And I knew when he was hurt."

Gary stared at her. "Hurt how?"

Tracy patted her belly, just below the stomach. "Here. Two nights ago. I felt sharp pain, like a knife or something."

Gary sank down onto a chair and seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

"He was stabbed," Marissa confessed. "Some street kids mugged us, and his dog ran away."

Tracy nodded. She had known. It infuriated her that Nick hadn't called them for help. She knew that he had to prove something to himself, like he was still a man or something, but it was just so much macho male ego that it really pissed her off. She hadn't told Vachon or Urs about Nick's pain, claiming that perhaps the excitement had caused her sudden cramps. If Nick wanted to suffer alone, then who was she to intervene?

But this was different. She felt Nick clearly, which meant he was awake and he was not shutting her out. He was not breathing and he was getting very, very cold. She knew he was below the water. And she couldn't sense Vachon at all. She swiped away a blood-red tear before Gary could come out of his near shock and notice.

"It's that damn paper, Marissa," he growled under his breath, unaware that Tracy's perfect hearing could detect every word. Tracy still huddled under a quilt, unwilling to let Gary see the severity of her burns. Since she seemed alert and coherent, neither mortal suspected just how serious they were.

"First the dog story. The paper said the kids were attacked by a crazed beast with eyes that glowed. Then this morning, tomorrow's headlines, a gang of kids claimed to set this bomb to destroy vampires. I went there, not expecting to find your new boyfriend, but to save some poor sucker from a lynch mob that'd been watching too much "Outer Limits". Only-"

"Nick is not my boyfriend, Gary. He's a good man and a new friend. Nothing more," Marissa interrupted.

"Only," Gary continued, ignoring her, "I find Nick on this boat, with three others, and they're like dead already. I could not wake them up. Then, they wouldn't just leave sensibly. I had to cover the girls in blankets, and they were burning-"

"From the bomb?"

"No! The girls were burning even before the bomb. And the other one and Nick were still on the boat. I couldn't see either of them."

Marissa sniffed and wiped at her tears. Speaking a little louder, she asked Tracy, "You say your brother is still alive?"

"Yes."

"Then I believe you. What can we do?"

Tracy drew in a breath. "Nothing for now. I'm going back there tonight. I'll find him then."

Gary rose. "I have to go, Marissa," he whispered. "There's a kid who gets his shoelaces stuck in an escalator and another heart attack, and a young girl's going to abandon her newborn."

"Go," Marissa said. "I'll take care of things here."

Tracy shook her head as she tried to sleep. Gary reminded her of her brother, out to save the world or something. Had Freud ever discussed the "King Arthur" complex? Or would it be named "Sir Lancelot?" If she were to label this compulsion, she would name it the "Nick Knight Disorder". She smiled to herself as she let sleep steal over her.

Late in the afternoon hunger woke both Tracy and Urs. Urs insisted on straightening up Gary's apartment first, putting away all the blankets and doing up his dishes for him as a sign of her appreciation. Tracy reluctantly helped, but hunger made her irritable.

Once in the bar, they hovered in the far corner away from the windows as the sun had not yet set. Urs compelled two young men to join them in the secluded booth, and she and Tracy were able to take the edge off their appetite. Drinking fresh, hot blood was still a new experience for the infant, and Tracy nearly drained him. When he finally staggered to his feet, Marissa mistook him for a drunk. She called him a cab and sent him home.

Finally, just as the sky was darkening enough for Tracy, the two vampires slipped out of the bar unnoticed and flew to the pier.

The area was cordoned off with yellow tape, but the daily news had reported very little of the explosion. No bodies had been found, and until the owners could be notified, little else had been released. Tracy walked to the water's edge and reached out for Nick. Now, she could feel nothing. Nick was unconscious.

*****

As the sun set, Nick sensed his trial was nearly over. He was bone-weary and thoroughly chilled. His side was hurting as he was jostled about by the water's currents. Hunger tore at him.

What should he do about Vachon? His severe injuries had mostly healed. Nick felt the smooth new flesh over his back and almost envied him. Nick's ribs had not yet begun to mend. But, when Vachon awoke, he would be ravenous, almost as first hunger. Any mortal in the area would be at risk. Nick feared the pier could be crowded with people - police, investigators, innocent bystanders... Nick could not put them in danger. The only way to protect them would be to feed Vachon himself, now, before rising. Only, the beast within would drive the Spaniard, not courtesy. He would undoubtedly take too much. Nick would survive, but he would lose consciousness. He hesitated. It did seem to be the best option.

Nick concentrated on all that had happened today, as he brought the Spaniard out of the hypnotic compulsion under which he'd placed him. He felt life return to the undead body, felt a moment of pain, then consuming hunger. Nick craned his neck to offer himself to Vachon. Twin fangs pierced him. He felt his essence being viciously drained and Nick smiled. *It is all right, my friend,* he thought, forgiving him before Vachon was even aware enough to feel guilt. Then Nick passed out.

Vachon awoke. Nick's blood was filling him, cold water surrounded him. For only a moment was he confused, before the knowledge of the blood assailed him. Withdrawing his fangs, he leaped upward, bringing them both to the water's surface before he gasped, bringing in huge mouthfuls of fresh night air. His lungs were sore from the long disuse and he coughed, surprised that he had inhaled no water. He looked at the unconscious vampire. Nick's throat was bleeding profusely. Vachon held him close as he sprang into the air and flew to shore.

Tracy shouted excitedly, but her enthusiasm quickly turned to concern. "What's wrong with Nick?"

"I uh, drained him," he muttered.

Tracy prepared to give him a thorough thrashing with her tongue, but Vachon stopped her with a gesture. "I know. You don't even need to say it. This was Nick's wish, to protect his mortal friends. Now, where should we go?"

"Back to Gary's, I guess. Follow me."

Tracy leaped into the air, Urs and Vachon close behind. She flew swiftly to McGinty's bar, landing on the fire escape just outside the second story apartment. She had left the door unlocked earlier that afternoon, and now she held it open for Vachon.

He laid Nick on the only bed and stepped back. The girls could do their hovering, they didn't need his help.

Urs licked at the neck wounds, but they continued to bleed. Tracy towel-dried his hair and face, calling to him, trying to awaken him.

"What can we do? How do we wake him?"

Vachon shuddered, not quite a hundred percent yet himself. "I don't know. Wait and see?"

The door opened, and the mortal owner entered. He stared at Nick with wide eyes. "You were right. You did find him. He doesn't look so good though."

Tracy swallowed past her nervousness. "I think he'll be better after a rest."

Gary touched Nick's hand, so still and cold. A look of fear came to his face. "I'm calling a doctor," he stated.

Tracy started to object, but Gary brushed her concerns aside. "He's the same doctor who treated him two nights ago."

Gary picked up the business card the European doctor had given Nick and dialed the private cellphone number. He started to tell him Nick's symptoms, but as soon as the doctor heard who the patient was, he interrupted, saying he would come right away. Gary stared at the phone, confused. What power did this stranger have, that he held the police force and the hospital in the palm of his hand?

Urs pulled off Nick's wet clothes and spread the blankets over him. Tracy pressed cotton balls against his neck. His blood had almost ceased to flow, but she worried that it was only because he had so little left. His face looked sunken, the cheeks hollow and his bones were too prominent. The two broken ribs were painfully obvious even to her untrained eye.

Gary answered the door. He stepped back and gestured to the doctor. "He's in there."

Luka smiled. "Thank you," he said politely.

Gary followed him into the bedroom, but Vachon blocked him. "You are hungry," he told the mortal. "Go get yourself a hamburger."

Blankly, Gary turned and left.

"That was mean," Tracy chided.

Vachon shrugged. "I didn't tell him to get lost or anything. Besides, the food will do him good."

"Am I to guess that you are all close, personal friends of Nick's?" Luka put just enough emphasis on the word personal to imply that he knew they were vampires. Vachon nodded.

The doctor asked them to explain how Nick had become injured then, as he prepared to give Nick blood, feeding the packet directly into his stomach. He sighed and shook his head. "I don't envy you at all, eternal healing powers just sounds like eternal suffering to me. I know that if I am ever truly injured, it will not last long."

Nick coughed once, weakly, as he struggled back to consciousness. Luka stared at the misplaced ribs. "How am I to set these, Nick? I know I can't do surgery on you."

Nick could not breathe, and so he could not speak. He made a gasping, choking sound, wincing painfully with the effort. Giving up, he concentrated, sending his message to Vachon.

The Spaniard paled visibly. "He wants you to just push and prod, shove them back where they belong."

Luka shook his head sadly. "That will be painful. Is there anything I can do to ease your discomfort first?"

Nick weakly shook his head. Only LaCroix could hypnotize him. Tracy hadn't perfected her skills and most vampires used the eyes of the victim to capture him. Nick's sightlessness rendered him resistant to compulsion.

"Forgive me," Luka said.

Luka was hesitant at first, but then he kneaded at Nick's chest, pulling the fractured bones back into place. Nick struggled against him, tears of blood staining his face. Vachon shoved his forearm in Nick's mouth, preventing him from crying out to terrify the mortals downstairs, and also saving the doctor's life. Nick bit down on him hard.

As quickly as he could, Luka taped Nick's chest, binding the ribs so they could heal. "This seems like such a barbaric way to practice medicine."

Vachon nodded. "We don't often need a doctor. Our methods are rather medieval."

Carefully, Vachon pulled his arm from Nick's teeth. They would both need lots of blood tonight, but Nick needed the blood of a vampire. The girls would have to help. Vachon was too weary to offer himself.

The doctor gave Nick one more unit of blood before packing up his bag. He looked at Vachon. "Is someone hunting him?"

"Why would you say that?" he asked blankly.

Luka pulled a newspaper clipping from his pocket. "I was going to speak to him about this," he said.

Tracy peered over Vachon's shoulder. "Mad Dog Attacks Youth" was the headline. Below, the smaller print quoted the boy's claims that the dog's eyes had glowed. "Could that be Perry?" she asked.

Vachon handed the article back. "Thanks. I'll take care of it."

Luka nodded. "If you need anything else..."

"Why?" Urs asked. She was soft-spoken, but there was a threatening undercurrent in her demand. Luka looked startled, clearing his throat nervously.

"A vampire once saved my life," he said quietly. Although he didn't explain, all could see the pain and suffering he endured in silence.

Urs seemed satisfied. She opened the door for him and gave him an earnest smile. "Don't take this personally, doctor. But I hope I won't see you again before we leave."

Luka returned her smile. "Good night."

Nick awoke, fighting back the feelings of disorientation. He was sandwiched between Urs and Tracy, but no where could he sense his dog. He missed Perry. The carouche tended to be bossy and interfering, but Nick knew he had only his best interests at heart, and he nicer about his domineering ways than LaCroix. Tonight, he would search for him again.

"Morning, Bro," Tracy said.

Nick kissed her forehead. "Morning. Although, I think it's afternoon."

"You irresponsible, self-centered, arrogant lout," Tracy scolded harshly.

Urs awoke and wiped sleepy eyes. "Ditto," she said.

"I did what had to be done," Nick said defensively. "Everyone's all right, aren't they?"

"Gary's fine. Marissa's fine. But have you called LaCroix yet? He's sure to have heard about the boat accident by now. The police called Gary looking for you.

Nick winced as he sat up. The ribs would be sore the rest of the day, most likely. He was tired of pain. To think, in his younger days, that he could go for months, years at a time, and not suffer anything except whatever LaCroix gave to him. If being mortal meant suffering like this, he wanted no part of it.

"I'll call him. After a shower. Will you show me where it is?"

Tracy forgave him at once. He looked so lost and confused, and she knew how much his disability wounded his pride. She helped him to the bathroom, and even stayed to shower with him. Later, when they joined the others in Gary's living area, Vachon poured them each a full glass.

"I found the local supply house," he explained.

Nick sipped at it. "We're going after Perry tonight," he stated.

"Fine. We're with you. After you call LaCroix."

Nick dialed and tried to get comfortable. He hoped LaCroix was too busy to be closely tuned his needs. If his master suspected the depth of his pain, the ancient would be on the first plane to Chicago.

The phone rang four times before the answering machine picked up. Nick felt a wave of relief. "Hello, LaCroix," he began. "Everything's fine. Just called to let you know, since you may have heard about the boat by now. It's destroyed. Tracy says "hi", and I'll let you know when we're coming home as soon as I work out about the boat. Bye."

"Lucky shit," Tracy snapped, slapping him playfully. Nick just grinned.

Natalie stared through another glass. It was the window of the neonatal wing of Toronto General. There were seven babies in the nursery right now, most were sleeping. One was starting to fuss, and the duty nurse was busy changing the diapers of another. Some were alert, their tiny hands waving uncontrollably as they stared at their new environment.

The duty nurse recognized her. "Would you like to come in, Dr. Lambert?"

Nat blushed, shrugging it off, but the nurse beckoned to her. "Scrub up and put on a gown. Then you could hold this one and give her a bottle, while I take care of Boy Isaacs."

"Boy Isaacs?" Nat went to the sink, feeling comfortable in the familiar routine.

"They had picked out girls names, and they don't know what to call him. Since they hadn't seen a peter in the ultrasound, they weren't expecting him."

"That's terrible," Nat said. "Poor little guy."

The duty nurse laughed. "Not really. It happens all the time. They don't have to pick out a name until they are discharged, and even then some couples need more time. Nothing's official until we file the birth certificates."

Nat put on a flimsy yellow disposable gown, staring at the tiny baby in the nurse's hands. "I don't know how to do this," she said, panicking.

The nurse told her to sit in the rocking chair. Then she placed the bundle in a pink receiving blanket in her arms. "Tip the bottle up so that no air gets into the nipple. That's about all there is to know right now."

Nat held the small glass bottle nervously. The baby took the nipple and started to suck hungrily. Nat relaxed a bit. Maybe it wasn't so hard after all.

The duty nurse hummed cheerfully as she changed Boy Isaacs and propped him over one shoulder, patting his back and swaying from side to side.

"Could he be hungry, too?" Nat asked.

"Hm. Maybe. I'll bring him in to his mother soon. She's breastfeeding him. But she just fell asleep a bit ago, and she needs her rest, too."

When the bottle was half-gone, the baby spit out the nipple. She squirmed in Nat's arms. The nurse covered Nat's shoulder with a thick towel. "Now, hold her like this and pat her back," she instructed. Nat was rewarded with a foul smell when the baby burped, spitting some of the formula onto the towel. The nurse took the towel back. "Now you can just rock her. Talk to her. She's been awake for a while, she'll probably go back to sleep soon."

The nurse left the nursery then, walking the hallway with the crying infant. Nat leaned back in the chair and started to rock it. She had distant memories of being rocked by her daddy. He had been kind and loving. And he used to sing to her, too. He had a pleasant, deep voice, and she felt so safe in his arms. She had been only six when the accident took her parents away and she went to live with Nana. She had never been rocked again.

The words to the lullaby came back to her all at once. Nat felt a lump in her throat at the memory of her father. Staring into the infant's face, the blue eyes and soft innocence, she began to sing, softly at first.