"Are we nearly there yet?" Jarod asked politely.

LaCroix dispassionately studied his young mortal traveling companion. This was at least the seventh time he had voiced this question in the past hour. LaCroix would have thought that a man in his mid-thirties would have been beyond such childishness, but Jarod was an odd mix of superior intellect and naivete.

"We are," he answered. "In another twenty minutes or so you should be able to see the castle."

Jarod played with the power windows, lowering the darkened glass to stare again into the dense stands of beach and oak covering the Carpathian Mountains. In the distance a sheep bleated plaintively. The sleek, black limousine was jouncing along a dirt road that was little better than a logging trail loosely connecting fields of potatoes, tobacco, corn and wheat. Twice it bottomed out as they drove through shallow creeks, the cold water seeping in through the doors and soaking the expensive carpet.

Nick smiled secretively, his head resting on his master's thigh as he listened to them. The trip had been interminable. They had flown in nearly a dozen different planes, taken trains, busses, taxis, and a helicopter all while trying to smuggle Jarod away from those who hunted him relentlessly. He didn't blame the mortal for being impatient. Nick was tired of traveling, too.

Jarod had taken on various disguises during their journey which was now entering it's ninth day, from professor to pilot to Saudi ambassador, and once he'd even pretended to be Nick's private doctor. That wasn't too far from the truth. Although Jarod held no license to practice medicine, he was Nick's last hope. He had to discover a cure soon... Nick was running out of time.

A twinge of pain ripped through him. Nick winced, clenching his eyes shut. LaCroix stroked his face tenderly. Nick struggled to calm his fears, to ignore the searing torment burning in his gut. He forced a weak smile for his master. "Scholomance Castle seems more remote each time I come," Nick said.

"Scholomance," Jarod said thoughtfully. "I don't recognize that word. Is it a family name?"

Nick laughed. "It's a bit of vampire humor."

"Tell me?" Jarod's voice grew animated.

LaCroix snorted. "Yes, Nicholas. Do tell." It might amuse the mortal for a few minutes.

"It's from the name "Solomon", the wise king in Judeo-Christian history. According to the folklore of this region, there was a school for the training of solomonari, or wizards, his successors and the bearers of his wisdom. Every tenth scholar was the Devil's due and thus Vlad Dracul, ruler of Wallachia, was cursed. In truth, he was a vicious despot, impaling his enemies on long, wooden stakes and dining while he watched them suffer. From this grew many of the popular vampire myths."

"Vampire School," Jarod quipped, flashing a wide grin.

LaCroix rolled his eyes eloquently. Such impropriety.

"Do you come here every year then?"

"No," Nick said. "I haven't been to the feast in over a century."

Jarod whistled through his teeth. For a few seconds he remained thoughtful. "If I had a family, I'd see them as much as I could."

Nick smiled wistfully. For many years he had fought against his vampire heritage, driving away those who loved and cared for him. Now that he was ready to accept himself for what he was, it was too late.

For more than a year he had suffered from some unknown disease that ate at his gut. Natalie had called it an ulcer as it seemed similar to that mortal illness, but no one really knew. She had been here in Romania for eight weeks while she and the greatest vampire doctors converged to study the problem, but so far they had been unsuccessful.

It hurt to feed. Nick couldn't even swallow mortal blood any more. Vampire blood offered temporary relief from the pain and weakness, but eventually nausea would overpower him. Then he would heave, expelling the blood he'd managed to consume and more, and he'd be left weaker and more miserable than before.

The blood of one was different. His child Cody was both vampire and werewolf. His blood had a soothing, healing quality. Nick didn't know if it was because Cody was so young or because he was werewolf. The memories Nick gained from the child through the blood kiss were mostly vague, warm fuzzy feelings in the bosom of his mother's affection. He'd had a few traumatic experiences, but the child was simply too young to know how much danger he'd been in at the time.

But could the werewolf blood itself be the reason? Werewolves possessed an incredible healing ability. They could recover from almost any wound in a matter of hours, as opposed to the weeks or months that it would take a mortal human with similar injuries. As with vampires, only decapitation or piercing the heart were deadly. But werewolf blood was so similar to humans that it did not arouse suspicion from the medical community. Vampires only avoided drinking werewolf blood because of their cultural prejudices - rating werewolves in the same category as carouche.

Poor little Cody had been so unhappy when Nick said good-bye. He'd clung to Nick's neck and wailed. Nick had tried to reassure him verbally and through the blood kiss, but in the end he'd been forced to calm the child with a hypnotic compulsion.

"We could not bring the child with us," LaCroix said, sensing Nick's emotions through their bond.

Nick nodded. He pushed against the leather seat to sit up slowly, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass.

"The Feast of Lillith is no place for outsiders - Jarod wouldn't be allowed there either, if not for Zuhayr's influence."

The younger vampire shrugged his shoulders in the slightest of gestures.

LaCroix glared out his window for the span of a few heartbeats. Everything he'd done for the past year had been only for Nicholas! LaCroix had protected the mortals and fledgling vampires whom Nicholas called friends. He had rescued Jarod and the vampire-werewolf cub from the Center. He'd kept Nicholas safe, had even protected his mortal job and identity as a homicide detective for the Toronto police department after he'd lost his eyesight - all for his sake. LaCroix didn't expect slobbering gratitude, but a word of thanks - a simple acknowledgement - was certainly called for. Even an argument would be better than such tacit indifference.

"Nicholas! What would you have me do," LaCroix exploded.

Jarod jumped at the sudden outburst, but Nick did not even flinch. He reached out with one hand, accurately finding LaCroix's where it lay fisted on his thigh. "Nothing, sire," he whispered. "I just miss him." He sighed deeply and a heart-wrenching ache floated through their bond, startling LaCroix with its intensity.

LaCroix saw twin tears of red hover on the edge of Nicholas's eyelashes before he blinked them away. The pain his son felt was uncannily familiar; it was the same LaCroix himself had suffered for centuries, desiring only to be near his favorite child who repeatedly spurned him. For a moment he was tempted to remind Nicholas of that, but the younger vampire beside him would not remember.

It had been a rough year for Nicholas. First the assault from the ancient Flavius, followed closely by losing his eyesight in a bizarre accident, then the strange illness that kept him from healing as he ought, and finally he was kidnapped and injured in a hit-and-run accident while trying to escape. Jarod had found him, but when Nicholas awoke, he had amnesia. Tracy had suggested that the amnesia wasn't from an injury to the brain as it had been before, but was rather more like a protective shield. Nicholas had suffered too much, and so a part of him just shut down.

LaCroix folded Nick's hand in both of his, patting the fingers affectionately. "I know how you feel, Nicholas," he said simply.

Nick hesitated a moment, before leaning his head against the strong shoulder that smelled so familiar. LaCroix closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, catching the scent of the one he loved. It was all the thanks he required.

Jarod smiled wistfully. LaCroix inclined his chin, schooling his features into a pleasant expression when he would rather be left alone with Nicholas. He needed Jarod. Zuhayr believed that only he could discover the cause for Nicholas's illness and hopefully, the cure as well. LaCroix didn't dislike Jarod, either. Although he was a mere mortal, there was something about him that intrigued the ancient vampire. LaCroix was at a loss to explain it. Jarod had an innocence about him, like that of the five year old child Nicholas had once been, although he had lived nearly all of his life in captivity.

The limousine passed through an arched stone tunnel, then slowed as it approached the grand medieval fortress. Jarod jumped out to fetch the wheelchair from the trunk, but Nick stopped him. "No, Jarod. I must walk there alone."

"Nick, you don't have the strength," he said. "LaCroix, talk to him!"

"He's right," LaCroix whispered.

"But - they know he's sick, that's why we're here," Jarod insisted. "Show a little compassion."

"We do not protect the weak and the innocent," Nick said, "we prey upon them."

Jarod shuddered. Nick sensed his uneasiness. The mortal had been raised without moral guidance, yet somehow had managed to create his own set of values. Now he wasn't sure how vampires fit into his reality.

LaCroix opened the door and helped Nick to his feet, placing a cane in his hand. "I have every confidence in you, mon fils."

Nick's fingers tightened around the polished wood. He felt ancient. His legs ached, his knees were weak and unstable. Shuffling one foot forward, he leaned heavily on the cane and took first one step and then another. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His clothing was too heavy.

He knew where to go. Although he had been blind for just over a year, in his mind's eye he could see clearly. There were maybe fifty steps from the limousine to the main portcullis, where he sensed others of his kind gathering to stare at him.

There were five vampires, the privileged young of the vampire doctors that were here to work with Natalie. The immense castle was mostly empty, as it was still too soon for the guests of the Feast to arrive. These vampires, although little more than infants, were all stronger than he was now, Nick realized sadly. Some were curious, wanting to see the mighty son of LaCroix reduced to such an invalid, while others were eagerly watching, waiting for him to fall.

Nick squared his shoulders. He would not entertain them. Using the power of his thoughts, he created an image of strength and vitality. Jarod saw how he struggled, but the weak minds of the young vampires were convinced that the rumors of his illness were greatly exaggerated.

LaCroix held Jarod back. "It is time," he said.

Jarod shrugged. He tilted his head, baring the smooth, tanned flesh of his neck. LaCroix stepped behind him and pulled him into the feeding embrace, one arm pinning him to his chest. A contented sigh escaped as he let his fangs descend. Then the vampire sank his teeth and drank.

A moment later he withdrew, closing the small wounds with his healing saliva. Then he pricked his wrist on his fangs and offered it to Jarod.

The mortal accepted the scant blood offering. "Will it make me a vampire?" he asked curiously, as he licked the salty fluid from his lips.

LaCroix chuckled. Jarod was too trusting and perhaps too curious for his own good. "No, child." He explained again how this ritual would protect the mortal from other vampires, marking him as LaCroix's own.

Jarod grinned. "Thanks."

Nick finally reached the stone hall. "I'm honored," he said, laying the sarcasm on thickly, "to have such an impressive welcoming committee."

"We heard you might be coming," one vampire said snidely. "It is we who are honored by your presence."

Nick bared his fangs and hissed. He lowered his mental shield, allowing the power of his eight centuries to roll over them, power that had been magnified since his blindness.

The young vampires flinched, backing away from him. Then they drifted off to find some other amusement.

Nick leaned against the wall. He raised a shaky hand to wipe the blood sweat from his brow.

LaCroix joined him then, smiling sadly. "Well done, Nicholas."

A high-pitched scream ripped through the room. Nick laughed, turning to face the woman who had been his best friend for more than six years. "Natalie!"

"Nick! Lucien! You're here! I've missed you boys!" She tugged Nick into a bear hug, nearly toppling him over. His long coat and sweater layered over a silk shirt could not conceal the emaciated body beneath. She glanced at LaCroix with a look of concern.

LaCroix nodded, acknowledging her fear. "It is good to see you, as well, Natalie."

Jarod extended a hand. "Hello," he said. "I'm Jarod."

Natalie clasped his and shook it firmly. "Hello, wonder boy," she said. "So are you ready to work a miracle or two?"

"Natalie," Nick chided.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I haven't been sleeping well. I'm just tired. I hope you don't snore or walk in your sleep. We're to share the Drum Tower together. Apparently, it's the only mortal-friendly room in the castle."

Jarod shrugged boyishly, a blush staining his cheeks.

LaCroix tightened his hold on his mortal lover. "I had assumed you would be with me," he whispered into her ear.

Natalie laughed, snuggling closer. "I've missed you," she said again. "This place is sooo incredible! It's better than a museum! It's like being Alice, and stepping through the looking glass into another world! I've seen some of the castles in England before, but there aren't any "do not touch" signs here."

"Nicky! You're here!" boomed another voice, and Nick nodded in the direction from where it originated.

"Greetings, Zuhayr," he said, bowing slightly. He lost his balance then, but Jarod steadied him, helping him into the wheelchair he had brought from the limousine.

Zuhayr narrowed his eyes, studying the golden vampire. "Yes, well it is late. Let us show you to your rooms, and save the rest of the introductions until the morrow."

"Sir, I would really like to see Dr. Lambert's work first."

Zuhayr shook Jarod's hand, drawing him into an embrace. Jarod stiffened uncomfortably, but he knew better than to resist. LaCroix had told him of Zuhayr's position in the community. He was one of the oldest vampires on the planet, and definitely one of the most influential.

"Good boy," Zuhayr exclaimed. "Natasha Darling, will you show him to the lab? Lucius, I'll escort you to the suite you and Nicholas will share."

LaCroix glared at the burly black vampire's casual use of his lover's nickname. He knew he should mark her as well, as soon as possible!

Zuhayr led them upstairs, down a long stone hallway, and opened a door, stepping aside to let his guests enter first. LaCroix surveyed the rooms. Elegant tapestries in rich, dark colors of burgundy, navy and black, with touches of ivory and gold, covered the windows to protect them from sunlight. Woven rugs graced the floor. Velvet drapes canopied the massive bed, drawn back with golden silk cords. A fire snapped cheerily in the small grate, lending a warmth to the room with its comforting, smoky aroma.

"This will do," LaCroix said.

Zuhayr laughed again, his deep chest shaking mirthfully. "You are a master of understatement, Lucius. Anyway, get some rest. Tonight you'll be kept very busy. My doctors have studied Nat's samples extensively, but they are eager to get their hands on the real thing. Never understood doctors myself. While they work to make you well, they seem to really enjoy what made you sick in the first place. Makes me think that all doctors have just a bit of the barracuda in them."

Nick smiled weakly. "I wouldn't mention that to Natalie, if I were you," he said.

Zuhayr's Santa-Claus belly laugh boomed again. "Good night, my fair young Nicholas," he said.

LaCroix stood by expectantly, while Nicholas undressed and bathed, in case he should require assistance. Then he helped him into the large bed they would share. LaCroix yearned to spend the day with Natalie, which surprised him, but he knew that Zuhayr had placed him here to protect Nicholas. Still, a small, selfish voice inside wondered if Zuhayr were trying to steal Natalie for himself.

"Go to her," Nick said.

"No. I'll stay with you."

Nick shrugged and closed his eyes. "You know she's safe from Jarod."

LaCroix stiffened. He hadn't even thought of that possibility. "She'd better be," he warned under his breath.

Nick chuckled as he drifted off sleep.

Jarod pored over the lab reports Nat showed him. He scrutinized the slides of blood and tissue samples. He listened while she explained everything they had considered, without making a single comment. Then he thanked her.

"That's it?" she asked curtly. "Don't you have any ideas yourself?"

Jarod nodded. "I work better alone. We'll talk tonight, after we've both slept."

She shrugged, feigning indifference when she was really insulted by his presence. Bringing him in meant that she couldn't fix this problem on her own. She had failed her best friend. She wasn't smart enough... and yet this Jarod person wasn't even a doctor! He'd never been to school.

"This way to the Drum Tower," she said.

Jarod followed her, quiet and thoughtful.

Natalie touched his arm. "I'm sorry I was rude earlier. I'm just so worried for him."

"You love him very much," he observed.

She smiled and nodded.

Dr. Luka Kovach stood when Natalie opened the door. He wiped his hands on his jeans, as he'd been stoking the fire. "Good morning," he said softly, extending his hand in friendship.

Natalie introduced Jarod, although it wasn't really necessary. She and Luka had been waiting for him to arrive for months.

Jarod glanced at the room they were to share. It was Spartan compared to the other rooms in the castle he'd had a chance to see. A small stone fireplace hovered in the center of one wall, and clear glass filled the tall, narrow windows. No curtains or tapestries covered them. Already the faint rosy glow of early dawn was coloring the horizon.

Three twin beds were set in the corners. No carpet covered the cold floor. A table on the opposite wall held a coffee pot, microwave, a few paper plates, and a compact refrigerator, a small modern bath had been fitted into the fourth corner.

"It isn't much," Luka said apologetically. "But then, we don't spend much time here."

"We've pretty much lived in that lab for most of the past eight weeks," Nat confessed.

"I saw your work," Jarod said. "It's impressive. I can tell you've worked very hard."

"Just not hard enough." Luka sighed.

Jarod straightened his shoulders and gave them a secretive little smile. "I don't know why I'm tired. There was nothing to do on the trip, but I feel like I could sleep the clock around."

"Go ahead and turn in," Nat said. "I'll be back in a little while."

Luka grinned as he watched her leave. He knew of her relationship with the vampire LaCroix, and figured she'd be visiting his bed tonight. Maybe it would make her a little easier to work with. He thought of his own wife and children, buried now beneath the rubble of his war-torn country. Maybe... soon... it would be time to leave the past behind.

Jarod climbed into one of the beds. He could sense LaCroix and Nicholas now. It was strange, feeling them in his mind. Was that the result of the blood ritual he and LaCroix had partaken of recently? He hadn't felt so connected to them before, when LaCroix had first tasted his blood on the way to Chicago from the Center. If he spent an entire lifetime among them, he wasn't sure he would ever understand these vampires.

Evening came. Slowly, life returned to the castle's residents. Natalie sat up groggily. The room was still pleasantly warm, she noted, as the fire continued to burn. She glanced quickly at Jarod's bed to thank him, but it was empty. "Jarod?" she called.

Luka returned from the small bathroom, freshly shaved and dressed for the night. "He was gone when I awoke," he said.

Nat scowled. 'He'd better be all right', she thought anxiously. Hadn't LaCroix warned him not to wander the castle alone? In her experience, she'd learned that sleepy vampires were dangerous. Although she'd met LaCroix earlier, he'd accompanied her all the way back to her tower cell, where the sunlight streaming in through the windows would protect her far better than he could.

She showered and dressed quickly in utilitarian green scrubs and a white lab coat, pulling her mountain of chestnut hair back with a hot-pink scrunchie. Luka gave her a friendly smile.

"I made coffee," he volunteered.

"I'll love you for always," she quipped, helping herself to a huge mug full of the strong, European blend.

They ate in the tower, to keep the smells of their food from the vampires below, and every night someone brought more food to their room for them. She giggled girlishly at the plate full of chocolate eclairs. "Hm. My favorite!"

"I'm sure Zuhayr knows that. We've had them three times this week."

She punched his shoulder affectionately. "You're just jealous. Come on and help me eat them up. I am not going to spend my eternity with heavy hips!"

He made a show of examining her figure. "Looks great to me."

Natalie smiled at him, thinking that it was a shame he was still single. Lists of eligible girlfriends ran through her mind. "When all this is over, you'll have to come to Toronto to celebrate," she said. Of course they would celebrate. She couldn't even think about the alternative.

"Chicago does seem far away," he murmured. "Perhaps I will."

He opened the door for her. Natalie laughed. How had such a modern woman so completely surrounded herself with Old World men? "Let's check the lab first, before we start an all-out search for our missing genius."

The vampire doctors crowded outside the door to the lab, snarling impatiently. "Why did you lock us out," Takis demanded.

Sure that she had found Jarod, Natalie was a little perturbed that he had taken over her project so completely that he even locked the door, but she wouldn't give Takis the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Nice to see you so cheerful this evening," she said. She knocked on the door. "Jarod? Open up."

The lock clicked and Jarod stood aside. "I'm sorry," he said. "I lost track of the time."

Natalie saw the dark circles under his deep brown eyes, the rumpled hair, and knew that he'd been up most of the day. He was dressed in a snug fitting black tee shirt that stretched over well-formed biceps, and black jeans belted low over narrow hips. To complete the picture, Jarod was barefoot. She felt all the hurtful feelings drain away then. He obviously cared about Nick too, and would do whatever it took to find a cure. For that alone, she could forgive him anything.

"Jarod, may I introduce you to the rest of our team? This is Dr. Booker, Dr. Charles, Dr. Dudley, Dr. Taylor, Dr. Simm, and Takis." She couldn't bring herself to call him "doctor".

Jarod refrained from extending his hand in the mortal gesture, having observed Nick and LaCroix for some time. Close vampire acquaintances greeted one another with the blood kiss, and distant ones didn't touch at all. He felt uncomfortable around so many of them. There was something about Scholomance Castle that was just too much like the Center.

He looked up then and opened the door just before LaCroix and Nick arrived. "Come in," he welcomed them. "We were waiting for you."

Nick walked slowly, aided by the cane and LaCroix's arm wrapped securely around his shoulders, to the examining table that was off center in the room. Natalie had him step on a scale first, and she scowled at how much weight he had lost in eight short weeks. She drew a blood sample, listened impatiently to hear his heart pump at approximately eleven-minute intervals, and checked his eyes, nose and throat. This same simple exam was repeated by all six of the vampire doctors, with the exception of the blood sample. Jarod stood by and watched.

"So now what?" Dr. Dudley said. "We have a sick vampire, and still no clue to the cause."

"Could it be contagious?" Charlie asked nervously.

"No," LaCroix said. "Nicholas has been surrounded by our kind for over a year. Not even the youngest infant has developed symptoms."

Silence settled uncomfortably around the sterile lab. As if on cue, all then turned to Jarod expectantly. Jarod shrugged off the persona of the quiet, unassuming traveling companion and became a university professor. "A forensic scientist once told me that for every unsolved mystery there are two options. One is neat, orderly and wrong, and the other is messy, disconnected and right."

The vampires shifted uncomfortably. Natalie crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes?" she hedged.

"The Chaos Theory," Jarod continued. "Totally unrelated events, being interpreted as a single illness simply because the onset of symptoms coincide."

"I'm listening," she said.

"Nick's stomach pains and vomiting are one issue. The blindness another. The viral infection yet another. And the increased mental ability is still another. Let's deal with them one at a time."

The doctors were silent, mesmerized by the mortal's pleasant voice, the scent of his blood, the calm, honest innocence of his character. LaCroix moved to stand closer to Jarod and glowered at them.

"You already know what's wrong with his stomach. What is the one wound that does not heal? What is the one injury that festers until it is treated?"

"Wood," Natalie said instantly, and the vampires nodded.

"Nicholas, think back. Could you have ingested wood some time, at the start of this illness?"

"No," Natalie interjected. "This can't be anything that simple. Wood is poisonous. He could not have had a wood-infested wound for a full year! And I took x-rays of his stomach. I could find nothing there- just a hole, like an ulcer."

Nick grasped Jarod's arm. "Yes," he said. "I did."

LaCroix inhaled sharply. All the wood injuries he'd suffered over the centuries merged into one, as he imagined the pain his son must have endured for so long.

"Remember, Natalie?" Nick insisted. "A year ago, last October. When I was kidnapped by Flavius? He'd packed bullets with saw dust and garlic, and shot me in the stomach." He touched his abdomen and rubbed it absently, recalling the injury.

"My God, Nick. That was ages ago. I picked out sawdust for hours. But when the wound ceased to bleed and you healed, I thought we'd gotten it all."

"You must have," LaCroix said. "It would not have healed otherwise."

"Yet there must be sawdust in his stomach now," Jarod said.

Natalie pulled at her hair as she thought about it. "Yes. We removed all the sawdust from the stomach, but what if there were some still in his system - wedged up the esophagus or flowing freely in the blood? When he drank again, it then washed into his stomach. That's led to his nausea and vomiting all this time? Oh Nick, I'm so sorry!"

Takis shook his head, unconvinced. "No vampire could live that long with such a wound. He'd have died within a few days."

"A normal vampire, perhaps yes," Jarod agreed. "But the combination of other conditions affecting him has kept him alive, countermanding the effects of the wood poison."

"What other conditions," Nat asked, still unconvinced.

Jarod placed a slide under the electron microscope. "This is a sample of Nick's blood, which you took before his illness. Compare it with this slide, taken recently." Jarod stepped aside and let Natalie and each of the vampire doctors examine the two samples.

Nat humored him, although she'd seen Nick's blood so often she could picture it in her sleep. "So?"

Jarod shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck and stifling a yawn. "Sorry, zoom the power. Look again."

Natalie complied. This time she saw something different. A new virus. It was separate from what she had labeled the "Vampire Virus", but it was there. The bacteriophage was aggressively attacking DNA and rewriting it, while the vampire virus was attempting to subdue it. Under the high-powered electron microscope, Natalie saw that Nick's blood was a veritable battle field.

"What is this?" she gasped. "It isn't the Fever. I didn't think there was anything that affected you guys..."

Doctors Dudley and Charles stared into the microscope in disbelief. Takis snorted, and started to call Nick a freak until LaCroix hissed at him. Zuhayr looked through the microscope as well, although the images meant nothing to him.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked the mortal genius.

Jarod shook his head. "Not exactly. But I have seen this before. It was in the Stargate files. I need some time to do a computer search. I'll find out what I can. But it seems to me that this new virus has kept Nick alive. If it were permitted to multiply unhindered, it might have cured him, but it would change him. I don't think he would be either human or vampire when it ran its course."

Natalie shuddered. She still wasn't convinced that anything Jarod said was correct. "An MRI should give us a better idea of what's going on inside him."

Jarod looked around the lab, at the odd assortment of modern and medieval equipment. "Where do we go to get one?"

Zuhayr brought a wheelchair over to the examining table and assisted Nick into it. "Just down the hall," he said. "It was on Natalie's wish list, which I had filled two months ago."

Nick slept through part of the exam, which required him only to lay perfectly still while his insides were scanned by the magnetic resonance imaging machine. Later he sat again in the wheelchair to await the bad news, news which he already understood with total clarity.

Nat stared at the image. She wouldn't have believed it, if she hadn't been right there to watch the scan being taken. Little remained of Nick's stomach. The hole she had identified as an ulcer had consumed most of the muscle and had eaten away at the esophagus as well. Other internal organs showed signs of damage, although less pronounced.

The vampires stared at it in awe. They had a new respect for the sick vampire. "You should be dead already," one of them breathed.

"So, maybe we know the cause," Natalie stated, her voice shaking. "Now what?"

LaCroix turned away and rubbed his forehead. His shoulders sagged. "It has to be removed," he whispered.

Jarod agreed. A few weeks before he'd had a chance to observe a splinter wound in young Cody's hand. Although most of the splinter had been pulled out, the wound continued to fester until all of the damaged tissue and the remaining chip of wood had been removed. Then the wound healed quickly, within a matter of minutes.

Zuhayr pulled up a chair and sat in front of Nick. "I have seen this kind of surgery done only a few times in all my days. It is not a simple matter. You will have to remain awake."

Nat shook her head. "I've used curare before. Although it would kill a mortal, it only seems to put you guys to sleep."

"But it would slow the healing process. After you go in and remove his entire stomach, then his vampire nature must heal the wound at once before he bleeds out."

Natalie blanched. "You can't," she spluttered. "You can't expect to operate on him while he's awake! Without anesthesia? That's crazy!"

Zuhayr kept his eyes on Nick, his voice compassionate. "The last time I saw this done, the patient went insane."

Nick straightened in his chair, squaring his shoulders. "We have no other choice."

"Nick, no! There has to be another way," Natalie pleaded.

"There isn't, Natalie. You know that. Will you do the surgery?"

She shook her head, backing away. "I can't. This is barbaric! Nick, I won't do it."

"Natalie, I trust you. More than all these other fine doctors, whom I've never seen. I can do this if I know you are there with me."

"She'll do it, Nicholas," LaCroix said firmly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, silencing her.

"So when do we start?" Takis asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

Zuhayr glared at him. "Nicholas will need to contact his children, to warn them beforehand. As the surgery is quite an ordeal, some stronger emotions may cross through the bond he shares with them. Natalie, you will select two assistants. The rest of you may watch, silently, from the observation room."

Nick gestured to LaCroix. "Take me to a telephone," he said. "I'll make some calls."

LaCroix wheeled him from the lab, wearing the heavy yoke of worry. "Nicholas, I-" he began.

Nick brushed him off. "I know, sire. This won't be easy for you, either. You'll have to shut the bond we share. I've never learned how to do it well."

"I'll stay with you, my son," LaCroix insisted.

Nick called Jonathan first. He listened as the young werewolf aristocrat reported all the activities he and Cody had enjoyed. "I think he's starting to like me," Jonathan added. "I mean, I know he misses you, but he doesn't cry himself to sleep any more."

Nick blinked rapidly, swallowing the thickness in his throat. "May I talk to him?"

Jonathan put Cody on the phone. The three-year-old squealed excitedly. "Daddy! Come home? Come pway wiff me!"

"Soon, Cody," Nick assured him. "Let me talk to Jonathan again."

Cody babbled on, telling him about a trip to park and the library and the fire station, before Jonathan finally wrested the phone from his grasp. "I'm sorry, Nick," the werewolf said, chuckling. "Cody's such an enthusiastic child."

Nick told him briefly why he'd called. "You should put Cody into a deep sleep, just to be on the safe side. I don't know if he'll feel my pain over the miles, but I wouldn't want to find out."

Jonathan expressed his sympathies, and assured Nick that he'd take care of the little boy. Nick didn't have many other calls to make. His few children were only loosely connected to him, and had little contact. He considered not calling Selena at all. She'd made him suffer for years for mistakenly bringing her across. But now she had a child of her own, an adopted vampire fledgling, to protect. Nick placed the call.

Selena seemed duly sympathetic. "Thanks, Nick," she said. "For letting me know. And, thanks for Robin. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I wanted you to know that."

"You should call Janette as well," LaCroix said quietly.

Nick looked puzzled. "Why?"

LaCroix sighed. That selective memory, again. "It's a long story, Nicholas. Never mind. I shall call her."

Nick replaced the phone on the cradle. He'd done what he could. Now he had to prepare himself mentally. They would have to cut him open without anesthesia. His vampire body would strive to repair the incision immediately, so the wound would be held open with clamps of polished wood. They would have to remove his stomach entirely, and the damaged portions of his throat, lungs and other organs. If he passed out, he would be given enough blood to revive him. And they would have to keep cutting away damaged tissue until his system began to repair itself, growing a new stomach on the amputated stump of the old. Only then would the clamps be removed. The next few minutes would be critical. He would either heal and recover or continue to bleed until he was completely drained. Without a stomach, he could not feed. Without blood, he would never heal. There was a very real possibility that he would not survive the ordeal.

Nick closed his eyes, too weary even to weep. There was no time for mourning now. He would have to be brave for LaCroix's sake. It was good that his master would be surrounded by his lover Natalie, the ancient vampire Zuhayr, and all the others - they would keep him from following Nick into the true death. LaCroix would grieve, he knew, but his master would survive.

*****

LaCroix held Natalie in the comfort of his arms while she wept. Her tears were tantalizing, soaking his shirt with the scent of her. He whispered endearments, patting her back, as he waited for the storm of her emotions to subside.

"I just can't do this," she sobbed. "I took an oath to do no harm."

"Natalie, none of those other doctors care whether Nick lives or dies. If you don't agree to do this, Nicholas will choose death."

"That's not fair!"

LaCroix swayed gently, lulling her in the comfort of his embrace. "Life isn't fair, my sweet. Surely you've discovered that by now?"

Natalie wiped her eyes with a fist and sniffed. "Make love to me," she said. "One last time. Tell me lies. Tell me you won't hate me if this doesn't work. Tell me we'll always be together. Make love like there's just you and me and no tomorrow."

LaCroix lifted her easily in his strong arms and flew her to the bed. He was tender and loving, fulfilling her wish, for truly, there might be no tomorrow.

*****

Jarod set up his computer in the Drum Tower and began the extensive research. The information he needed was classified, but that had never stopped him before. He'd discovered many American military secrets in the past by accessing classified Russian files. He didn't have access to current information, as there was about a six-week lag between the actual report and the Russian copy, but that didn't matter in this case. He'd seen this virus only once. It had been in a teenage girl, who was not of Earth. What the alien child had in common with an eight-hundred-year old vampire, Jarod could not even begin to imagine, but he needed to reread her case. If he were right, as soon as Nick could travel, they'd have to make a trip to Cheyenne Mountain and infiltrate the highest level of Air Force security. It would be his most challenging pretend ever.

The computer images blurred. As isolated as it was, deep in the Carpathian Mountains, Scholomance Castle was lucky to have electricity, but the archaic phone lines were causing increased lag time. As he waited for another page to load, Jarod gave in to his exhaustion.

*****

LaCroix brought Nick to the operating room, which had been set up by Zuhayr at Natalie's request. The lights were subdued, with one high-powered lamp, not yet turned on, directly over the operating table. Through the speakers soft music played a collection of Chopin etudes and waltzes she knew Nick liked.

A second table was placed near the first, which LaCroix eyed suspiciously. "That is unnecessary," he sniffed.

Zuhayr shrugged his massive shoulders. "We shall see."

Nick was assisted onto the table. With trembling fingers he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it before laying back on the hard surface. Charlie and Dudley took some gauze bandaging and wrapped both his wrists before clamping them securely in the restraints above his head. Natalie wanted to object, but she knew that even as weak and injured as he was, Nick would try to kill her when she started to cut him. Still, she thought the vampires were being just a little too thorough as they strapped down his upper chest, hips, legs, and ankles. She brushed his cheek tenderly. "I love you, Nick," she whispered.

He crooked a half smile. "I know."

She reached up and flipped on the bright lamp. It warmed the air beneath it immediately, which was just as well. Her fingers felt frigid. She clasped them together and tried to still her nerves. "Are we ready?"

Nick paused, but he nodded his head.

She took the scalpel in her hand and poised it over his smooth abdomen. She'd cut open thousands of bodies before, but never a living one. Technically, Nick didn't consider himself living either, but he was awake and he would feel it. Her hand trembled.

"Nick, close your eyes," she said.

He chuckled. "Why, Nat? I can't see you anyway."

"Just do it. I can't do this with your eyes open."

Nick shut his eyes. He tensed, the muscles in his stomach tightened and he clenched his teeth. "Now, Nat!"

Still Nat hesitated. She touched his stomach lovingly with one warm hand and told herself that he didn't feel pain the same as mortals. She'd seen him get hit by a car, get right up and keep on running. She'd seen him shot, stabbed, beaten, and even blown up once. "He isn't human," she thought, and that became her mantra as she forced herself to make the first incision.

Nick's fangs erupted immediately. He fought against the handcuffs that restrained him and emitted a fierce growl as a stripe of red blood oozed from the incision. Quickly her vampire assistants clamped the severed blood vessels with what resembled nothing more than wooden clothespins. "This isn't happening - he isn't human," she murmured to herself. The operating room, the doctors, the entire scene seemed surreal as a delicate polonaise trilled behind the sounds of Nick's screams.

She worked as quickly as she dared. Nick pulled against the restraints; his wrists were raw, the gauze padding stained with his blood. He broke the restraint holding his hips and he bucked viciously. Zuhayr held him down. Takis came running in with a stronger belt to replace the broken one. LaCroix groaned, clutching his stomach and fainted.

Zuhayr lifted him and laid him on the second bed. "Stubborn old fool," he whispered affectionately.

For a moment the room was quiet when Nick finally passed out. Natalie heaved a sigh of relief, but then her assistants patched a tube from LaCroix to Nick, giving him a transfusion of the ancient's blood, and Nick awoke screaming. Natalie blinked back tears. "Dry my eyes," she snapped, "I can't see a thing!"

Charlie took a gauze sponge and gently blotted her face. "You're doing fine, doctor," he said calmly.

"Like hell!."

Her gloves were mired in blood. Although sanitation was not generally an issue for vampires, the gloves were as much for her safety as Nick's. She wasn't ready to become a vampire yet and wondered vaguely if she could "catch" vampirism, the way one might contract AIDS. The bloody mass that remained of Nick's stomach was removed and she plopped it in a steel tray. Again her patient fainted, yet again he was revived. His voice grew raw, his screams more frightening. Nat chanced a glance at the reinforced restraints holding him down and prayed that they would hold.

"I love you, Nick," she said, as she continued to cut away the rotted tissue. "Please remember that. "I want you to get well! You must hang in there! We will survive this together. I love you!"

Then the miracle happened. The blood that filled his abdominal cavity stopped flowing. She held her scalpel still, while she and her assistants watched new tissue grow on the open wounds. She probed gently, examining every inch of him, to be sure that no sawdust remained to create further problems, but his system continued to regenerate.

"That's it," she said, as she began to remove the wooden clamps. Severed blood vessels reattached themselves. The skin seamed itself together like a supernatural zipper until no outward sign of the operation remained.

Nick continued to scream though. Sharp fangs slashed the air, as the vampire sought to defend himself. More blood was offered him through his wrist, although he struggled so hard that the tube was ripped out twice. Nat pulled off her gloves and tossed them on the tray. "It's over," she whispered.

Strong hands guided her away from the surgery and helped her to her room, where she laid down for a rest without any recollection of how she got there. Natalie knew why she'd become a coroner... her patients were beyond suffering. She would have to give up her vampire practice. She just didn't have the nerves for it. Giving in to her exhaustion, she cried herself to sleep.

LaCroix was taken to his room as well, where Zuhayr set two pretty little vampires to keep watch over him. "He'll need blood when he awakes," Zuhayr warned them. They giggled agreeably. He would have to make sure that he kept Natalie far away from LaCroix until he fully recovered. They had decided to use LaCroix's blood for Nick, as it was familiar and possessed greater healing ability than the blood of younger vampires, but even LaCroix could not have continued if the surgery had lasted much longer.

Zuhayr then returned to the operating room. The vampire doctors had cleaned up at his request, but Nick remained, still screaming his rage. Zuhayr stayed with him. Softly, he spoke words of comfort as he tried to reach the tortured mind. "Sleep, young Nicholas," he urged. "Healing sleep. You are out of danger now. You may rest."

For what felt like hours he continued to whisper to Nick, until finally the vampire fell into a deep, troubled sleep. Only then were the restraints removed. Still Zuhayr did not trust him. Instead of moving him to the room he shared with LaCroix, he carried Nick to the dungeon.

The room was unlike its medieval counterpart. Like a modern bedroom, it held a full sized bed made up with satin sheets and a velvet comforter, plush carpeting, and painted walls concealed the solid stone foundation, but in place of a door was a sturdy iron gate. The room was rarely used and only for vampire criminals as they awaited final judgement from the Council, but for now it would protect them all from Nicholas should he remain violent. Sadly, Zuhayr laid the golden knight on the bed and drew the covers up over him. "Rest well," he murmured, caressing his cheek.

LaCroix awoke to find his fangs deeply embedded in the pale throat of one of Zuhayr's young concubines. Her blood was sweet, filling the voracious need of his empty stomach. Another vampire was sensuously massaging his back and buttocks. It would be pleasant, he thought briefly, to remain with them until his strength returned, but instead he pushed them away.

"Have we offended you, master?" they pleaded. "Please, we wish only to serve you!"

He felt a smile tug at his lips. How he longed to hear just those words, but from his own progeny. He'd have to ask Zuhayr what method he used in training them. They had probably been trained to serve while yet mortals though, he surmised, and would be for all eternity simpering, mindless pleasure slaves. "I wish you to leave me alone," he said firmly. "Send my gratitude to your master."

They bowed as they backed out of his room, their hands pressed together at their small, firm breasts. He felt a slight stirring in his loins and wondered if he should reconsider, but he had to see Nicholas. He knew his son lived, for he could feel the familiar presence through their bond, but Nicholas was still filled with fury. He must go and comfort him, wondering why Zuhayr had not brought Nicholas to his room.

Natalie, Luka, and the vampire doctors met him in the hallway. "Zuhayr said he is awake. We're going now to see him," Natalie said.

LaCroix nodded, joining the small troop. He would rather see Nicholas alone, but knew that they were nearly as much a part of this as he. "Where is he," LaCroix asked, when Dudley turned away from the main hall and led him down the stone stairs.

"Zuhayr's orders, sir," Dudley answered vaguely. "Don't blame me."

"What were his orders?" LaCroix demanded. He never could tolerate spinelessness.

"He's in the dungeon, sir."

Natalie shivered. "Sometimes I hate you guys," she spat. "First you torture him, and then you lock him up in some damp, dark hole? Nick hates the dark."

Takis laughed at that. "A prince of darkness, but he doesn't like the dark. How queer."

LaCroix backhanded him, flinging him into the wall effortlessly. Natalie didn't even spare him a glance. Takis had been grating on her nerves for months.

As they reached the bottom, the hallway widened. Torch lamps set into the wall brightened the aged stone, casting an amber glow. Rows of cells were empty, their gates unlocked. Zuhayr stood before the fourth door on the right, his massive arms folded across his chest, staring into it.

LaCroix flew to him. "What is the meaning of this," he snapped indignantly. "Release my son at once!"

Zuhayr merely pointed inside.

LaCroix turned and stared.

The walls were in shambles, the sheet rock crumbled on the carpet, exposing the two by four studs and solid rock walls beneath. The bed had been shredded. Springs and stuffing spewed across the room. And in the corner sat Nicholas, his knees drawn up tight under his chin, rocking himself.

"He's always had a temper," LaCroix insisted. "Let him out."

"This is more than a bad disposition," Zuhayr said quietly. "He is not well."

Natalie pushed passed the vampires to see for herself. "Nick, it's me," she called.

Instantly Nick flew at her following the sound of her voice, slamming into the solid iron gate with enough force that the iron bars groaned under the stress. Zuhayr jumped back, dragging Natalie with him just as Nick's hands groped the air where she had stood moments before. Nick said nothing, but he growled his rage, his eyes hard and angry, his fangs gleaming. He grabbed the bars of his cell and shook violently, emitting a shrill scream.

Twin rivers of red flowed down LaCroix's face. "I must go to him," he said.

"That would be suicide," Zuhayr shouted. "Look at him! He doesn't even know you."

"My presence will comfort him."

"It is too dangerous."

LaCroix squared his shoulders and tilted his chin, assuming his most commanding air. "Let me in at once!"

Zuhayr pulled out a bamboo blowgun and fitted a poison dart into the end. He puffed into it, shooting the dart into the cell. Nick roared angrily, as he examined the small dart sticking innocuously into his forearm. He brushed it out, but already his motions were sluggish. His knees buckled. He sank to the floor.

Zuhayr gestured the mortals to stand back before he unlocked the heavy gate. LaCroix slipped inside, then the door was safely latched again.

Nicholas eyed the newcomer warily, hissing through his fangs.

LaCroix moved cautiously, his hands extended in a gesture of friendship. "Hush, my son. No harm will come to you," he purred.

Slowly, LaCroix lowered himself to the floor. Nick hissed once again, but his eyes were drooping shut. LaCroix pulled him into his lap and cradled his head against his bosom. "My son, oh my son! What do we do now?"

Nick snuggled closer and slept.

Natalie turned and ran up the stairs to the main hall, holding her breath to keep from sobbing. Luka came up behind her. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into his arms. "Sh, Natalie," he comforted. "Perhaps this is temporary. A post-traumatic stress disorder. Only time will tell."

"He doesn't know me," she sobbed.

"He doesn't know any of us, not even LaCroix," Zuhayr added, joining them. "I've been watching him for some time. When he awoke and began destroying the cell, all I saw was pure rage. He did not respond to the sound of my voice at all."

"But LaCroix?" she sobbed.

"Is in danger. As soon as the curare wears off, he will discover that for himself. I will stay and watch them. I'll have to drug Nicky again to get LaCroix out of there."

"So this is our cure? Did we give Nick back his strength, only to keep him locked in a windowless dungeon for the rest of eternity?" Her voice was sharp, but she was too upset to care.

"As Dr. Kovach said, time will tell. Why don't you see what Jarod is up to. This isn't over yet."

Natalie sighed wearily. She'd slept several hours after the surgery, but she hadn't rested well for months. Maybe it was better not to love anyone, she thought miserably. Then she couldn't ever hurt like this again.

Zuhayr returned to the dungeon. He pulled up a chair and sat beyond Nick's reach outside the barred gate. LaCroix continued to hold him, blood tears streaming down his face. "You will not stake him," he stated coldly.

"Would you want an eternity for him, spent in a cell like this?"

"I will take care of him," LaCroix vowed.

Zuhayr didn't reply. LaCroix would see for himself. Nick was too old, too strong, too dangerous to live.

It was nearly dawn when Nick stirred, the curare worn off. LaCroix tightened his hold on him, meaning only to comfort him, but the angry vampire perceived it as a threat. With a howl of fury, he broke free and attacked his master.

LaCroix was more surprised than hurt. Nick flung him across the cell with enough force to shatter more of the sheet rock still clinging to the damaged struts. Nick came at him again, but LaCroix did not resist. "Nicholas, it is I," he cooed, uttering words of comfort while his child threw him yet again. Then Nick struck, savagely tearing open his throat while he sucked the blood from him.

LaCroix forced himself to remain calm. "Yes, Nicholas. Remember me through my blood. Take as much as you need."

Nick sucked and sucked. Blood dripped down his chin, but still he guzzled greedily. LaCroix felt a moment of triumph - his son's stomach was healed! Just before he lost consciousness.

Zuhayr roused him moments later, offering his own ancient blood. LaCroix gazed dazedly. Nick was again unconscious. "What?" he asked.

Zuhayr helped him to his feet. "We should move him to another cell. There is too much in there on which he can hurt himself. We will keep him safe for as long as you wish."

LaCroix nodded curtly. His son would recover. Zuhayr would see. Together they carried Nick to a cell down the hall, one with bare stone walls. They laid him on a pile of soft blankets - no bed or mattress for him to destroy or on which to hurt himself. Other than the blankets, the room was barren. LaCroix gently brushed at his child's golden hair, matted against his forehead. "I shall bathe him while he is yet unconscious," he insisted.

Zuhayr had warm water and soap brought down. LaCroix gently cleansed him and clothed him in soft jeans and his favorite navy sweatshirt. "We'll find a way to reach you, Nicholas," he whispered. "I know that you're still in there, sheltered somewhere beneath the rage."

"Come," Zuhayr said. "Let us see how Natalie and Jarod are faring."

He swam against the fog, gasping for air. His world cleared somewhat. The fog changed colors. It was amber now, with warm shadows. He sat up and stretched, flexing muscles that felt sore. It must be This Place. He remembered now. This Place was the place of pain. Where beings whispered the sounds "I-love-you" and hurt him. The pain was excruciating. The amber tones turned to blood red as he remembered.

He slammed his fist into the wall with a bone-jarring smack. That caused more pain. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked the fresh cut, nursing injured fingers until they healed. Even the walls hurt. This Place was evil. He must find a way to leave.

There were voices again. A deep voice and the scent of food. He cocked his head, listening, his world once again an amber fog. The voice was gentle and soothing, the food calling to him. He crouched, easing closer, but still wary of danger.

The Wall of Cold Iron stopped him. The voice was on the other side. He reached out blindly, finding the source of the food smell. A smooth arm extended between the Cold Iron, offering itself. He latched on, sinking his teeth into the vein.

Familiar blood spurted into his mouth. He guzzled it like one starving. Another hand reached between the Cold Iron and touched his head. He ignored it, focusing on filling the need in his belly. The hunger was gone, but not the fear. He sucked harder.

"My Nicholas," LaCroix murmured, brushing his fingers through the tangled hair. "You will get well again." LaCroix spoke softly, hoping the reach his son trapped inside this autistic creature.

Nicholas continued to drink. LaCroix felt light-headed and struggled to keep his fangs from descending, as his own vampire nature would fight for self-preservation. He must not frighten his injured child.

"Nicholas, you've had enough," he said. He tried to pull his arm free. Bruises formed where Nick's fingers tightened around his arm. Nick hissed angrily, giving the arm a fierce yank. LaCroix stopped fighting. How much more could his child consume? "Read my memories in the blood, Nicholas. Remember me!"

Zuhayr hurried down the hall. "Lucius! I told you not to see him alone!"

Nick stiffened at the sound of a new voice. He had to get away. He dropped the arm and scurried to the far side, as far as the amber fog would let him. This new voice upset him. It was from that Place of Pain. He grunted, searching for escape, but at every corner he was blocked. Rage consumed him. He slapped the walls angrily, frustration growing. Around and around, three stone walls, a fourth wall and the Iron Gate, then three more walls, he slapped and growled and screamed, until finally the voices left and he knew he was alone. He sank down onto the soft place and closed his eyes.

Jarod grinned broadly as he stood and stretched. He had been slaving over his laptop computer for three days. Seeing him there typing away, moving only when absolutely necessary, he had become as much a part of the furniture as the table at which he sat. Luka brought him a glass of milk - Jarod preferred it to the coffee he and Natalie consumed - and patted him on the shoulder.

"You look satisfied. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes," Jarod said excitedly. "Take a look!"

Luka glanced at the file written in Russian. He could read it with a little effort, although he had not had cause to use his Russian in several years. Then he shuddered as a cold finger of dread trailed down his spine. "Jarod, this is classified! What if you're discovered!"

"I've been hacking into these files for more than a decade and no one's found out yet."

Natalie leaned over the small lap top. She pursed her lips. "Okay, so why don't you translate for us lesser beings?"

Jarod nodded agreeably and returned to his chair. "There's a girl, Cassandra. Last fall she came down with an illness that is so similar to Nick's, it has to be related! Here, look at her lab tests."

Nat leaned over his shoulder and tried to follow as he translated the headings before the numbers. There were the same viral qualities as Jarod had discovered in Nick's blood, the same elevated white blood cell count indicative of a virus, and the same anomalous presence of the unknown bacteriophage.

"Where is this girl?" Nat asked, her interest climbing. "What did they do for her? Is she still alive? How did she get this virus?"

"She's in Wyoming," Jarod said, answering the easiest question first. "She's doing fine, although I think she's failing Math."

Nat slugged him playfully. "I don't even want to know how you know that," she said. "So what's the cure?"

"I don't know," Jarod said.

"But, you found her? How was she cured?"

Jarod indicated the computer monitor and shrugged. "The files don't really say. She had this virus, and her adopted mother, Dr. Janet Frasier, couldn't help her. She contacted someone called Nerti, and she cured her using an alien technology."

Natalie felt a ridiculous urge to laugh. "Alien, huh? Jarod, don't go weird on me."

Luka stood, his face pale and his hands shaky as he gestured to the computer. "Natalie," he whispered. "This is real."

"What's real!" she snapped.

"Cassandra isn't human."

Natalie crossed her arms in front of her chest. "What then? Vampire? Werewolf? Witch? I'm sorry, but you'll have to be a little more specific."

"Cassandra isn't from earth. The Stargate file refers to her planet only as P8X987."

"Okay," Nat said slowly, expelling air through her lips. "Stargates? Martians? Jarod, I think someone's yanking your chains."

Jarod didn't understand the expression. "I spend anywhere from a few days to several weeks preparing for my next pretend, but this one's going to take longer."

"What are you talking about?"

Jarod rose from the desk and wandered through the tower room. He ran his hand through his short, black hair which mussed it more than it had been. With the dark shadow of beard growth and disheveled appearance of days of work without rest, he might have seemed like an unsavory character from South Park after midnight, but instead he reminded Nat of Nick's most endearing side, the clueless, sometimes helpless, eternal boy.

He gestured in the air as he carried on a silent conversation. Luka glanced at her and shrugged. He sat at Jarod's computer and read the files aloud.

Nat felt like she'd stepped into a rabbit hole, for nothing made sense. It was like coming into the middle of a Stephen King novel, with no clue to what the plot or characters were about. Her head was spinning with new facts, but without a basic knowledge to interpret them.

"Enough," she said, patting his shoulder affectionately. "Why don't you just study it and give me a synopsis when you're done."

Luka read silently then, flipping through the screens faster without having to translate from one foreign language into another.

Nat blocked Jarod in mid-stride, grasping his shoulders to gain his attention. "What are you planning to do?" she insisted, pronouncing each word slowly.

"I'll have to study them, of course," he said absently. "It is the first step to become one of them."

"One of whom?"

"The Russians."

"Russians! You said Cassandra was in Wyoming."

"It will take too long to explain," Jarod said with a trace of irritation.

"Well, you'd better try, because LaCroix isn't going to let you out of his sight unless you can give him a damn good reason! One he can understand." Nat guided him to his bed and made him sit. "So, start at the beginning and tell me everything."

Jarod leaned back against the wall, folding his long legs on the bed. He took his pillow onto his lap and punched it several times, then hugged it to his chest. His face grew sad, his eyes haunted, looking years older yet somehow, much like a lost child. "I was taken from my parents," he said solemnly.

"Maybe not that far back," Nat said.

"I have to," Jarod whispered, not looking at her. "I was kidnapped. I don't know who I am. The Center wanted me for my intelligence. They guided me and taught me only what they wanted me to know. I learned how to become a thousand different people. They would give me scenarios, which I was taught to think of as games. I was to become one of the characters in the game, then tell Sydney what I would do next, what I was thinking or experiencing, and what I could have done differently. Only later I learned that they were taking the things I thought up and hurting people. That's when I ran away.

"I didn't know anything about the world. I was a grown man, but I had never done anything for myself before. To say I had been sheltered is such a gross understatement as to be laughable. I didn't know how to buy and prepare food, or even what most foods tasted like. So for my first pretend on the outside, I became a chef.

"I read every cookbook I could find, studied different techniques, about famous chefs, and the chemistry of food. Then I created a job for myself and catered the Southeast Regional Convention of Shriners. During the meal, I heard about some of the work they do for crippled children. Curious, I became a pediatrician next, and got to know some crippled kids personally. Pretending, that's what I do. I can become anyone, except myself."

Nat listened quietly, as she felt Jarod's pain and loneliness. In many ways, he was so much like Nick. Nick, the gallant knight, the accomplished detective, the sensitive artist and moody vampire, did not know who he was, either. He thought he was dark, evil, damned... he could not see all the good he did for others. Her chest constricted, a painful wave of adrenaline coursed through her. The Nick she knew was gone. Maybe forever.

"Cassandra is the adopted daughter of Dr. Frasier, who works at Cheyenne Complex in Wyoming, a restricted Air Force Base. It would be nearly impossible to infiltrate the Air Force and get the security clearance to Wyoming without raising too many red flags and avoiding the Center in the process. I plan to become a Russian scientist instead. The Russians have had several joint missions with the Americans in the past. Once I get into Cheyenne Complex, I should be able to access the information on who and where this Nerti is, since she's the only one who can help Nick."

Nat rubbed her temples, fighting a head ache. Once her life had been simple. There had just been her work and dead people who stayed dead. "So, you're going to Russia, to become an astronaut, to go to Wyoming, to meet an alien. Makes perfect sense to me."

Jarod smiled. "Yes."

"You'd better let me go with you. Explaining this to LaCroix will take some time."

LaCroix was in the dungeon, his arms folded across his chest and his expression unreadable. Nick lay on the blankets asleep. Torches flickered in the halls, casting warm shadows through the cell door and filling the air with a faint, oily smell. Nat shuddered distastefully. The dungeon felt just a bit too much like a tomb.

"Lucien? Jarod has something to tell you. I think you'd better come upstairs."

For a brief moment his expression softened as he searched her face, hoping for good news, but then it faded. The immovable mask slipped back in to place. "It can wait."

"No, it can't. Jarod needs to leave. He says it could take as long as three months to get the information he's after."

LaCroix glowered at her. "He is going no where! I brought him here to help Nicholas," he said sharply. The sleeping vampire stirred, hissing, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

"Please, Lucien. Come upstairs and listen. Luka can stay with Nick while you're gone."

Luka moved away from the stairs, taking up LaCroix's vigil outside the cell. "I will call you if he awakes," he promised.

Nat tugged on LaCroix's sleeve. If he hadn't acquiesced, she would never have been able to budge him, but the ancient vampire reluctantly allowed her to drag him upstairs.

Jarod waited in the library. A vampire servant had laid a fire which did little to warm the monstrous room. Shelves of books stretched from the floor to the high ceilings, which would have been unreachable without the aid of a very tall ladder. For vampires who flew it was of little consequence, he thought, quirking a wry smile. He gazed at the hundreds of shelves housing thousands of books. If he lived an eternity, he might read them all, for he was a very fast reader. He'd never really thought about his own mortality before, but standing in the presence of such antiquity humbled him.

Zuhayr strode in, slamming the door behind him. "I hear you're leaving," he said coldly.

Jarod faced the ancient vampire, his expression neutral. "I was going to tell LaCroix about it now," he said.

"I didn't spend a year of my life tracking you down so you could run off leaving the job half finished!"

The door opened again, admitting Nat and LaCroix. Jarod heaved a sigh of relief. He knew LaCroix was old and powerful, but he was nothing compared to Zuhayr. Jarod understand what motivated LaCroix - his love for his family. He didn't understand Zuhayr at all.

Nat urged them all to sit civilly on the couch and chairs, while Jarod explained his plan. She interrupted at times when she thought he was getting too technical and losing his audience. When Jarod finished, Zuhayr exploded.

"That is the most preposterous scheme I've ever heard, and I've heard a lot in my time! You cannot do this - if you are discovered, you will be shot for espionage!" He paced angrily in front of Jarod, doing his best to intimidate the mortal.

LaCroix glanced at Natalie. He was ready to dismiss everything Jarod told him as nonsense, but his science-only, never-believe-in-myths, feminist woman of the nineties seemed to accept it. Of the new millennium, he corrected himself. He must be getting old. "Tell me again about this stargate?"

"It is unfortunate that it was ever unearthed," Zuhayr put in. "Humanity isn't ready to face the Go'uld."

"You know about this?" Nat, Jarod and LaCroix spoke at once.

Zuhayr gave an imperial pose. "Who do you think buried the gate?"

"But, the archeologist, Daniel Jackson says the gate was buried thousands of years ago!" Jarod swallowed hard. He'd feared the ancient before. Now he was terrified.

"Who are the Gu'ould?" Nat asked Zuhayr, her scientist's curiosity peaked. "No, don't bother with that now. The real question is, do you know Nerti? Can she help Nick?"

"Nerti's path and mine have never crossed," Zuhayr said. "But she is Gu'ould, our sworn enemy. She will never come to our aid."

"We don't need her, only the information she possesses," Jarod asserted. "I will get it."

Zuhayr rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully. "You think you can do this? Become a Russian soldier, just like that?"

"Yes," Jarod said simply, as though that were the easiest part of his plan.

"We'll have to protect him," Zuhayr began. "One of us will have to go with him. My duties keep me here until after the Feast. You'll go, Lucius."

"I Will Not!" LaCroix's eyes blazed crimson, his fangs fully extended.

Zuhayr chuckled annoyingly, shaking his head at what he perceived as a lack of control. "You would trust the safety of this young genius to an infant? Vachon, perhaps?"

"My place is with Nicholas," LaCroix insisted. "I will not leave him."

"Then we have a problem," Zuhayr said icily. "I place you in charge of Jarod's safety. If any harm comes to him, you will suffer the consequences." Zuhayr stomped from the library, slamming the heavy door behind him. Natalie imagined that the very rocks of the castle trembled in his wake.

It was LaCroix's turn to chuckle. "Now who is out of control," he said to himself.

Nat shook her head. "Men."

Jarod stood. "I'll be fine. You don't need to protect me, sir," he said. "I've been taking care of myself since I escaped."

"Yes, and you've been recaptured three times, shot in the leg and the back, you even suffered amnesia for a time. You've done a great job."

Jarod colored, ducking his head. "I was naïve," he said. "I've learned from my mistakes."

"You may begin your preparations for the journey. Let me think on this. I will come up with a way to protect you and remain with Nicholas."

Jarod hesitated. He didn't want anyone along. He worked best alone. If someone else came with him, he'd have to create two false identities, doubling the risk that he would be discovered. Whoever came along to protect him would put him in greater risk. But just knowing that someone cared enough to worry about him was a nice feeling. It didn't matter that they only wanted him alive so he could help Nick. For now, at least, he was important to someone. It was almost like being a part of a family.

"Thank you, sir," he said. He smiled and left.

Nat heaved a deep sigh. "Tell me this is a nightmare, Lucien. Tell me I'll wake up one morning, back in my apartment in Toronto, and everyone I know will just be mortal."

"How dull."

Nat tried to resist when LaCroix bent to nibble at her neck. She felt overwhelmed, she had lost control of her world. She couldn't think about romance at the moment.

LaCroix wasn't thinking about romance, either. He wanted her now. Forget the wine and candles and flattering conversation, forget the time invested as precursor to intimacy. He drew her to him, pressed his hard body against hers. His hands, strong and insistent, were ruthless as he tore her clothing from her and took her on the floor of the library.

Natalie gasped, shocked at first, but her traitorous body responded in ways she never would have believed possible. She found it oddly arousing to be so powerless and completely at his mercy. Even more so was the possibility of being discovered by any of the vampires or mortals in the castle. She fought him, however useless it was, struggling in his arms which only heightened his arousal. "Lucien! No, not now," she panted.

"Now," he growled. He struck swiftly, his fangs piercing her tender throat. She cried out, clinging to him, letting him bring her to climax along with him, his name on her lips reverberating through the cavernous room, until she fainted.

LaCroix quickly closed the small wounds. It had been centuries since he'd lost control, and this time he'd nearly killed her. It didn't matter that he was under a lot of pressure, that he was worried about his child, and distracted by Zuhayr's decree that he also assume responsibility for Jarod. LaCroix didn't accept excuses from anyone, least of all himself. He carried her to their suite and laid her on the large, soft bed. Then he called Luka to give her a blood transfusion.

*****

Natalie watched as LaCroix again tried to reach Nick. For days he had been feeding him, offering his arm through the bars of the cell door. Nick took all that was offered, but he was vicious. He tore great wounds in the flesh, the blood spilled down his chin and puddled on the stone floor. He drank more than he needed and the only way to get him to release LaCroix was with force - either through drugging him, or driving him back with a quarterstaff.

LaCroix stood just out of Nick's reach, his arms folded across his chest. Nick gripped the bars of the cell and shook them, his face contorted with rage, his fangs glinting in the dim light, twin lethal daggers.

"You are angry, Nicholas," LaCroix said quietly. "But you can control your anger. You are stronger than the rage."

Nick lunged, reaching out for the voice. Nat stepped back as the cell door rattled on it's solid iron hinges and prayed that it would hold. He wedged a shoulder between the bars, extending his reach. Even LaCroix was forced to take a step back. Nick roared angrily. His fingers groped the empty space, reaching for something, for anything.

"Please, LaCroix, let me try," she whispered.

Nick reacted to the sound of her voice just as he had before, fleeing to the far corner of his cell and slapping the walls furiously, shouting incomprehensibly in his fury.

"He is too dangerous," LaCroix insisted. "He would kill you before you had a chance to utter a word."

"We were best friends for seven years! That has to mean something!"

"And we've been together for eight centuries! Natalie, you must stay away from him."

LaCroix took her arm firmly and led her upstairs. She bristled indignantly. She knew she could help. She had to try. She still heard Nick's screams of agony when she tried to sleep. Until he was well, she feared she would never sleep again.

The night was drawing to a close, though. LaCroix was in no mood to listen. He'd been distant since their last love-making- no, since they'd last had sex. There had been no love in that union, only need. He had needed her blood and she had needed him to take control of her world, to stop it from wildly spinning on it's skewered axis. Now she accompanied him to bed, briefly finding comfort in his arms until he drifted into the deep sleep of the undead and she was left alone again with her nightmares.

Natalie tossed about restlessly. She feared for Nick. If he didn't get better soon, Zuhayr believed it would be kinder to end his existence. She knew Nick was stronger now, that the surgery had healed his stomach at least, and powered by the violent rage he was perhaps even stronger than LaCroix.

But she believed that he was still in there, a prisoner of his own mind. If she could only reach him, she was certain she could lead him back into the real world. She simply had to try.

*****

'Who are you?' Nick asked.

Nick smiled sleepily. 'You'll help me?'

*****

Taking the key to Nick's cell from LaCroix's coat pocket was a simple matter. Natalie felt a twinge of guilt. LaCroix trusted her, or he would have put the key in a safer place, but he could be so pigheaded-stubborn. If he'd only just listen to her once in a while! They would have to come to an understanding before she joined him in his eternal night.

Quietly Natalie slipped from the room and tip-toed down the dark stone hallway. It wasn't Nick that worried her so much as all the other vampires in the castle. Before LaCroix came, she'd stayed in her sunny tower room until well past dusk to ensure that all the sleepy vampires had had a chance to feed before setting eyes upon her.

Two torches flickered just outside Nick's cell. Natalie shivered involuntarily. It was so hard to see him like this - incarcerated in the cold, stone cage. With firm resolve, she marched to his cell and spoke to him.

"Nick? Are you awake yet? It's me, Natalie."

He sat hunched in the far corner, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped tightly around them, his chin resting on one knee. He didn't move when she spoke, which she took for a positive sign. He wasn't slapping the walls and screaming.

"I've missed you, Nick," she said quietly. She didn't think it mattered what she said, as long as she kept talking. Something seemed different about him. He seemed almost helpless, huddled into the corner like that. And his eyes looked vacant, not hard with fury. She didn't know why he hadn't said a word since the surgery - not an intelligible one, that is - but until he chose to speak, to communicate, no one could help him deal with the post traumatic stress, or whatever the hell it was.

Nat told him about the castle, about the work Jarod had been doing, about how she'd been trying to think of a suitable girl to set up with Luka, but all her friends now were vampires. While she talked, Nick made no movement at all, but she knew he was listening.

Hesitantly, she fitted the key into the lock and turned it. The iron grated noisily as she opened it and stepped inside. She felt a moment of panic. What if he attacked her? But this was Nick! He looked so small and forlorn, like a lost child. She took several deep, even breaths to still her racing pulse.

Continuing her one-sided conversation, Natalie walked cautiously down one wall, back to the exit, then down the other, keeping the same distance between her and Nick as she went. She meant to be as non-threatening as possible, while she looked for any sign of recognition in him. As she moved, only his eyes followed her.

She stared, dizzy with hope. "Nick?"

She moved to the right, and his eyes moved with her. His head remained still. He wasn't just following the sound of her voice! He could see her! "Nick! You're not blind any more!"

In her joy, she forgot about her own safety and started to run towards him. "Nick!" she cried.

Too late she saw him react. The vampire flew at her, pinning her in his arms and he sank his fangs into her throat. She couldn't move. She tried to cry for help, but only a strangled gurgle escaped. Terrified more than she had ever been before, she knew she was going to die.

Nick was draining her. She grew light-headed and her legs were too weak to support her, yet Nick held her tight. It wasn't at all sensual, the way she had imagined it would be. It hurt. When she struggled, Nick growled at her, tearing the flesh at her throat. Nat felt tears fill her eyes. It would be over directly. "I'm sorry, LaCroix," she thought, grief-stricken. "You've lost your son, and you've lost me... how will you go on?" Then darkness overcame her.

LaCroix sat up in bed suddenly, awakened by a moment of panic. He wasn't one to dwell on bad dreams, but the fear remained even as he blinked away the cobwebs of his sleep. "Natalie!" In one terrifying moment, he knew what she had done. He flew from his room, down into the dungeon with lightning speed. "Nicholas! No!" he roared.

The young vampire glared at him, hissing a warning as Natalie's blood dripped from his fangs and chin. LaCroix, heedless of any danger to himself, tore Natalie from him and sent him sailing across the room.

Nick struck the far wall and slid to the floor. He glared at LaCroix, but he did not move.

LaCroix stared at the still form of his mortal lover, the once vibrant coroner, with her mass of auburn hair and bright, intelligent eyes. Her complexion was pale in death, a lovely shade of alabaster cream that stirred his loins even as he saw that she breathed no more. The last of her life seeped from the savage wound at her throat to stain the cold stone floor. Tears of blood streamed down his face. He had endured too much. Unlife no longer interested him.

"Nicholas, how could you," he uttered.

Gently he laid her on the floor, straightening her limbs and brushing his thumb and forefinger over her eyes to close them. He brought a slim, lifeless hand to his lips and kissed her one last time.

Her fingers tightened slightly. LaCroix stared, a grain of hope stirring. Perhaps he wasn't too late? Could he bring her across and save her for himself? She would be furious... but then she'd brought this on herself! He couldn't delay a moment longer to debate what her wishes would be. He had to act at once.

Only, Nicholas had drained her. She was destined to be his child. If LaCroix completed what Nick had begun, she would be tied to two masters - a confusing bond that could drive an infant mad. Nicholas would have to complete the ritual.

LaCroix approached the seething vampire that was his once proud Crusader. "Nicholas," he said.

Nick growled warningly, flashing deadly fangs.

"Nicholas," LaCroix said firmly, touching his shoulder. "You hurt my friend. Now you must heal her. Do as I say."

Something in his child felt different. There was a faint ray of understanding. A tingle in their bond. Nicholas didn't move to obey, but he quieted. LaCroix gently pulled him to his feet.

Nick stood, allowing himself to be led to Natalie's still form. LaCroix pushed him to sit, then took his wrist in his teeth and sliced a small wound. Nick tried to yank his arm away, but LaCroix stopped him with a single command. "No, Nicholas!"

Nick glared at him, but he didn't resist further. LaCroix held the dripping wound over Natalie's mouth. Blood dripped onto her face, into her lips, down her cheek.

"Come back to me," LaCroix urged. "Come back, Natasha! Do not follow the light - that is not your destiny. You must come back. Nicholas needs you! ...I need you!"

He slashed Nick's wrist again, which had completely healed, and dripped more blood into her mouth. "Drink!" he commanded. How long would he fight for her? What if she chose death? How could he forgive his son? How could he not?

Her tongue moved once, tasting the cold blood. She swallowed. Again the tongue appeared, more insistently, licking the blood and then she groped blindly for the source, clutching the bleeding wound to her mouth as she suckled.

Nicholas stared at her dispassionately as she clung to his wrist. LaCroix gave a weary sigh, knowing their lives had been irreparably altered.

It was hard to tell if she had had enough when he wasn't the one feeding her. He watched Nicholas, but the younger vampire displayed no outward signs. Reaching out to him through the bond, LaCroix felt nothing. Nicholas was closed to him. The faint tingle of awareness he'd felt earlier was gone. Natalie's color looked less ashen, though, and had taken on the luminescent quality of unlife. "Enough," he told her gently, pulling her from Nicholas's wrist. "Sleep now."

Natalie's eyes closed. Nicholas stared at his wrist, watching the flesh mend itself. LaCroix drew in a deep breath. It was finished. There was no going back now. For better or worse, Natalie would awake as a vampire, the newest member of his ever-expanding family. He felt old.

Nick yawned, his fangs glinting in the amber glow of torch light. Then he stared at LaCroix with a blank expression.

"I suppose I should thank you," LaCroix said. He quirked a rueful smile. "I've been wanting to do just that for a year, but she insisted she wasn't ready. I should never have allowed her the option of waiting, but you know how stubborn she can be."

Nick's expression never changed, but his eyes moved. He was looking at him! LaCroix stammered, hope springing where there had only been misery. He drew a penny from his pocket and tossed it. Nick turned, following it's path as it struck the far wall and dropped to the floor. He looked back to LaCroix, cocking his head curiously.

"You can see!" LaCroix exclaimed. "My son, my son! You can see again!"

Nick flinched, drawing away from him, but LaCroix went to him, crushing him to his breast. After a moment, the younger vampire relaxed. Nick lay his head on his shoulder, his arms tentatively returning the embrace. LaCroix kissed him, tears of joy coursing down his ancient face. How ironic that the day that brought death to his lover's mortal existence should bring new life and hope to his favorite child. It was a day to rejoice. It was a day to feast.

Nick stirred, tilting his chin to gaze at LaCroix, his deep blue eyes clear and guileless. Then without warning, he bit LaCroix, sucking his blood hungrily.

"Nicholas!" LaCroix said sharply. He pulled back, but his child held him firmly. Under ordinary circumstances, he would punish him severely for such a presumptuous act. A younger vampire simply did not feed from an elder without permission! Yet, he had been nourishing Nicholas constantly since the surgery. He relaxed. Patting Nicholas, he encouraged him.

Natalie's blood should have satisfied him, but then feeding her may have tired him, especially if she'd taken more than was necessary to complete the conversion. Being drained by a new fledgling was a potential hazard, as the master vampire grew weaker while the fledgling's strength was at its greatest. Experienced vampires knew better than to let the dying mortal overfeed and often young vampires did not survive the birth of their own children. Taking on a fledgling was always risky. This created a whole new set of problems Nicholas simply did not need to deal with right now. LaCroix could kill Natalie himself!

LaCroix comforted his child, relaxing into the feeding embrace. He let his fangs descend. It seemed like ages since he'd last tasted his favorite child. Tenderly now he slipped into Nick's throat.

Cool blood filled him. Familiar, yet no less cloying in it's unique flavor, Nicholas's blood - LaCroix's addiction - flowed in him and through him. When he could taste himself in the blood, he withdrew.

Nick stared at him blankly. There was no rage, no curiosity, nothing familiar in his expression. LaCroix turned away, unwilling to let him see the regret pooling in his eyes.

What would he do now? He needed to stay here with Nicholas, to encourage him to return to him. He needed to move Natalie to a room of her own and warn the two remaining mortals to keep away from her. Natalie would need him with her when she awoke, to guide her through the First Hunger, but Nicholas needed him here.

A rush of air was his only warning before Nicholas escaped from the cell, slamming the door behind him.

LaCroix stared in horror. Nicholas's eyes, no longer a vacant blue, were glinting smugly as he turned the key in the lock before tucking it safely in his pocket.

"Nicholas! No!" was all LaCroix could manage to choke out.

Nick vanished.

LaCroix rattled the cell door, bellowing for help, but vampires slept soundly as a rule and all were far removed from the dungeon. He might reach someone related to him by blood, but they were too far away to help. Janette, Tracy, Constantine and more were scattered around the globe. Soon they would gather for the Feast, but in the meanwhile, Nicholas was loose. He was a danger to himself and to others. LaCroix had to stop him!

He closed his eyes and tried to open himself to Nicholas through their bond. Perhaps he could call the vampire back to him as he had done in times past.

Confusion swept over him. Nicholas was upstairs, frantically searching for something. Instead of rage and fury, Nicholas was in a state of panic. He tore through one room after another, unsure of what he was looking for, knowing only that he hadn't found it yet.

"Come to me," LaCroix compelled him. "We shall seek together."

Nicholas slammed against him. LaCroix reeled from the mental blow. There were no words between them, only the force of Nicholas's thoughts. He was terrified. He believed he was fleeing for his life.

LaCroix saw vaguely through Nicholas's eyes, although the vision was skewered. The main hall seemed bigger, dark and scary with all the windows covered against the light of day. Nicholas ran to the solid oak door, lifting the beam that bolted it shut.

"Nicholas, you cannot go out," LaCroix warned him urgently.

The younger vampire ignored him. He yanked the door open and flew out into the bright afternoon. LaCroix heard his cry of agony as sunlight burned him, but the sick vampire did not return to the safety of the castle. He flew until the sun weakened him too much to fly. He ran then, blindly searching for a safe haven while slowly incinerating himself.

"Nicholas!" LaCroix screamed.

Zuhayr burst from his sleeping chamber. He flew through the shuttered window, swooping down from the sky to scoop Nicholas into his massive arms, then hastened to the safety of the castle.

Nick struggled in his arms, fighting still for his freedom, but his burns were too severe and he was no match for ancient.

Zuhayr held him effortlessly. "What am I going to do with you, Nicky," he said, shaking his head sadly.

"The forest," Nick said hoarsely, his voice raw. "I must go! The forest!"

"Sh," Zuhayr soothed, holding him securely. "Perhaps I will take you later, when you've recovered. You must stay inside, away from the sun. Did you forget?"

Nick continued to struggle against the massive arms that held him. Zuhayr felt a few punches before he managed to drag him back to the dungeon. Seeing LaCroix trapped inside, he laughed gleefully.

"I guess there's nothing wrong with Nick's mind," he said. "I've often felt like locking you up myself."

"The key is in his pocket," LaCroix replied, summoning what remained of his dignity.

Zuhayr retrieved the key and opened the cell. Only then did he notice Natalie's still form lying on the blankets. "Oh, no," he gasped.

"She lives," LaCroix snapped.

"You have lousy timing."

"I didn't do this, you damn fool! She brought it on herself, under the misguided notion that my son required her comfort." LaCroix firmly stated his ownership of Nicholas, in case Zuhayr had forgotten.

Zuhayr carried Nicholas inside, placing him on the blankets when LaCroix lifted Natalie. "I will see to his wounds," he said.

"I will tend to him," LaCroix insisted.

"You would rather I be with Natalie through her First Hunger?" Zuhayr raised his bushy eyebrows in mock innocence.

LaCroix clenched his teeth before he said something he would regret. Natalie was going to pay for this!

Nick closed himself to the pain. He lay motionless, no longer thrashing in Zuhayr's grip. His face relaxed. Somewhere he could hear the other groan inwardly while time and blood healed the burns, but the other stoically endured his burden.

'Don't leave me,' he pleaded.

Natalie couldn't breathe. Her dreams were wild, reminding her of one of Nick's nightmares where he was lost on a sunny beach. A bright light beckoned to her. She looked around, feeling very much alone.

Where was everyone? Shouldn't there be people here? She grew frightened. The light seemed to be growing, coming nearer, although she had not taken a step.

"LaCroix!" she screamed, but her lips did not move.

"Come to me," she heard. The familiar voice, mesmerizing, deep and gentle, comforted her.

"Where?" she asked.

The light began to dim and with it, her fears. She had made her choice. In a deep, deathlike slumber, she rested while the conversion remade her in Nick's image.

Much later she awoke to a burning hunger. LaCroix forced a bottle into her hands and she drained it. Another and another followed suit. She couldn't gulp fast enough, couldn't get enough blood into her stomach to dull the searing torment. Every cell in her body screamed for nourishment.

Four empty bottles clinked on the floor where she tossed them. Only then did the feeding frenzy fade, leaving bewilderment in it's wake. "What? What did you do to me," she murmured, more hurt than angry.

"I did nothing," LaCroix said coldly. "You brought this on yourself!" He turned to leave, duty done, yearning only to return to Nicholas.

"Don't go! Please, Lucien," Natalie begged. She blinked away tears to clear her vision, staring at the red stain they made as they plopped down onto the coverlet. "Oh no, I remember... Nick? He bit me... Nick! Is he? Is he?"

"Nicholas is all right, at the moment," LaCroix said.

"Is he my... master?" Nat shuddered, finding the word as well as the concept alien.

"Yes."

LaCroix remained aloof, poised at the exit as though he couldn't wait to leave. Fresh tears spilled down her pale cheeks. "You don't want me now? Because of Nick? Why didn't you let me die! I don't want to go on alone! Oh, Lucien! Can you forgive me?"

LaCroix hesitated. Below Zuhayr was with Nicholas, comforting him. He had desired Nicholas before when he was blind and dependent, how much more would he want him now? And if Zuhayr were the one to bring Nicholas out of his shocked state, would Nicholas... LaCroix shuddered at the thought... would Nicholas bond with Zuhayr? Would he look to Zuhayr as his protector and friend?

But Natalie had been his lover for a year. It was a short period for a vampire, yet she had touched him. She was the closest to an equal he had ever met in a woman. Zuhayr, no doubt, would try to steal her from him as well. LaCroix did not pretend to understand women one iota, but he knew instinctually that if he disdained her now, she would never forgive him.

"You realize that Nicholas has never been very adept as a master," LaCroix said softly. He took several steps towards her.

She wiped away her tears, sniffing miserably. "I don't need... need a master," she sobbed. "Do I? Not if I have you."

LaCroix sat on the edge of the bed. "True, vampire infants are often left to their own defenses, but few survive. If Nicholas ever comes out of this state of shock, the discovery that his actions had led directly to your demise could finish him. You must succeed now, if only for him." LaCroix knew the words he should utter, but pride nearly choked him. Letting her know how much he needed her would leave him vulnerable. It was unthinkable! Yet, to fail to speak could lead to centuries of conflict between them as it had with Nicholas. Perhaps if he had reassured Nicholas in his infancy of his true feelings for him, the golden crusader would have become the cherished brother and closest friend LaCroix still desired?

"And for me," he whispered.

Natalie threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Lucien! I'm so sorry! But, maybe I'm not! I mean, I've been wanting to join you, but I've been afraid. Tracy had such a hard time adjusting, and I didn't want to be her little sister, but I do love you! Am I your grandchild, then? Oh, make love to me! I need you!"

LaCroix chuckled in spite of himself. He patted her head, comforting her like a distraught child. "Sh, Natasha," he purred. "Our ways are not the ways of mortals. Father, mother, sister, lover... these terms mean nothing to us. The bond between you and Nicholas is permanent. Our laws acknowledge that he has absolute dominion over you. Whatever bond you wish to develop with his other offspring is entirely up to you. The one between you and me is more tenuous. While we share blood it will grow strong, but time and distance will cause it to fade."

"Ow!" Natalie squealed, her lips near his ear.

LaCroix winced. "What is it, my dear?"

She covered her mouth and gasped, then pulled away her hand. She stared at the twin wounds sliced in her palm made by the explosion of new fangs.

LaCroix brought her hand to his lips and licked the blood sensuously. "The conversion can be trying," he murmured, his tongue inching up her arm in slow, savory circles. "But now you will feel pain differently. Before, things that would have been quite painful, now will be only a minor annoyance." His leisurely journey brought him to her neck. She leaned back against the pillows, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She arched her throat, offering herself to him.

"Fill me, Lucien! Take me now!"

LaCroix covered her with his long body, imprisoning her. For a brief moment, he thought of Nicholas. Reaching out to him, LaCroix sensed only peace. Nicholas had to be sleeping. He could afford the dalliance with Natalie. He would begin the bonding process now, before Zuhayr got his two bites in. But he would not make the same mistake he had made with Tracy. This would not be a quick sharing of blood. Slowly, thoroughly, LaCroix made love to her, using his centuries of experience to make the moment unforgettable. He drove her over the edge again and again, had her crying out for completion, begging him to end the delicious need building within. He exhausted her and then he nourished her. When she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, he staggered into the shower.

Taking care of his dependents was draining. He smiled dryly. Perhaps he should summon Vachon to bring his other offspring early? Tracy's youthful elixir was a natural amphetamine. He felt his fangs tingle in anticipation. Yes, it was time to reunite his growing family.

The sun was setting, although the majority of vampires were still sleeping soundly. The nights were gradually shortening as the calendar neared the spring solstice, but the hours of daylight were still insufficient to meet their needs. LaCroix felt lethargic himself. He grimaced, attempting to conceal a yawn as he spied Zuhayr slouched casually in the main hall.

Zuhayr eyed him coolly. "He nearly destroyed himself," he said.

"But he did not."

"You owe me for that window."

"Send me a bill." LaCroix went to the ice box and withdrew one of Zuhayr's private stock. Bringing two goblets, he joined the ancient in a charade of civility.

Zuhayr accepted the drink. He swirled the ruby liquid in the glass, staring into it as if he could see the answers there. "How long?"

LaCroix kept his voice level, his tone confident. "As long as it takes."

"He has shown no improvement in two weeks."

"On the contrary," LaCroix insisted. "His stomach has healed completely, as has his vision. In time, I am certain that his mind will recover."

"He is vicious, LaCroix. You are barely able to control him. If he should break free when darkness protects him, who knows how much damage he could cause? How many, mortals and vampires alike, will he be allowed to kill, before you accept that he is simply too dangerous?"

LaCroix drained his drink and set the glass firmly on the table with a jar that nearly shattered it. "I will accept full responsibility for him. If you lay a finger upon one hair on his head, I shall take you with me into true death."

Zuhayr boomed a deep belly-laugh. "You, Lucius? How amusing."

"One need not be superior in strength to win the battle. History abounds with tales of the lesser force vanquishing a more powerful oppressor. Perhaps it takes an element of surprise, or cunning, or superior strategy, or perhaps only a moment of luck. But I vow on the grave of my master, whom I also vanquished, that I would avenge him!"

Silence surrounded them. The air was charged with the undercurrent of malevolence. Eye to eye they stared at one another, each more stubborn than the other, each more determined in his point of view. At length, Zuhayr shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

"The Feast is in three weeks. I grant you until then, Lucius. On the Eve of the Feast, if Nicholas is still out of control, he will be staked. Such is not mere whim, but law. Even I cannot go against the council."

LaCroix schooled his features to reveal nothing. "Of course," he said, his manner equally casual. "I have locked Natalie in her room for her own safe-keeping. Please inform the mortals of her conversion."

Zuhayr grunted a response. LaCroix amused himself imagining Zuhayr chained spread-eagle in the middle of a cornfield on a cloudless summer day. He was glad he shared no bond with the ancient one.

Nicholas was pacing in his cell, but when LaCroix drew nearer, he lunged for the barred door. "What is the meaning of this!" he demanded.

LaCroix smiled. He had been waiting for weeks to hear his son speak and he'd been wondering what Nicholas's first words would be. "Good evening, Nicholas," he said calmly.

Nick shook the bars forcefully. He glowered at LaCroix, his eyes glowing amber rimmed with crimson. His fangs descended, his lips drew back and he growled menacingly. "I will repay you for this, LaCroix!"

LaCroix folded his arms across his chest. He was elated that his child seemed to have recovered, but there was no harm in keeping him caged a few moments longer. He had always enjoyed their verbal sparring. "I look forward to the interest on the debt. But I must confess, it was Zuhayr, not I, who had you thus confined."

"You lie," Nick spat. "He has been nothing but kind to me."

LaCroix shrugged indolently. "Ask him yourself, if he chooses to visit you later."

Nick gave the bars a final shake, turning his back on his master. "What is it you want, LaCroix," he said, struggling to contain his fury.

LaCroix relented. He wanted his son to come to him, to be with him and to enjoy being there. He wanted him back! "What I have always wanted," he answered truthfully. He took the key and opened the lock, but instead of releasing Nicholas, he joined him in the cell. He allowed the door to lock shut behind him this time and pocketed the key. He wouldn't be fooled twice.

Nick moved so fast, LaCroix didn't have time to react. Nick lifted him over his head and flung him. With all the dignity of a sack of potatoes, LaCroix struck the far wall and crumpled to the floor. Stunned, momentarily speechless, LaCroix winced as he felt a cracked rib or two jabbing him unpleasantly. Nick hauled him to his feet and whirled him around, pinning him in the feeding embrace.

"Perhaps I am tired of your games, LaCroix," he breathed in his ear. "I am changing the rules."

LaCroix relaxed in the tight hold, awaiting an opportunity to break free. He couldn't stop the smile that spread from his lips to the very heart of his existence. He hadn't seen Nicholas like this in centuries, but it was one of his more appealing natures. It was the Nicholas that once destroyed a horde of vampire hunters for daring to injure his family. No doubt it was the Nicholas that had refused to allow Janette to die a mortal's death, reconsigning her instead to the life of a vampire.

LaCroix tilted his head, permitting him access to his throat. His flesh tingled as Nicholas's breath moved across the sensitive area. He felt the light scrap of fangs, but nothing more.

"Who did this?" Nicholas asked, perplexed, his fury fading.

"Did what," LaCroix wondered. He reached a hand to touch his neck and felt the jagged scabs that barely covered a half dozen wounds. Between Natalie and Nicholas, he had been a veritable pin cushion. He must not have fed enough to heal. "You did, Nicholas. Don't you remember?"

Nick loosened his hold, releasing him. LaCroix felt a moment of regret. Still, his son was well. There would be many times for sharing blood.

"What happened?" Nick whispered. "I don't remember."

Nick seemed to change right before his eyes. He seemed smaller, younger, less confident. His expression was genuinely confused and perhaps a little frightened.

"What do you remember, Nicholas?" he asked gently, putting an arm around him.

Nick leaned in to him, resting his head against the comforting breast. "I think... I remember... a dark cave. It was wet in places. Tracy, Father Pierre... we were prisoners. Flavius... he shot me in the stomach." Nick rubbed his abdomen as though seeking reassurance that he had recovered.

"That is the last thing you remember?" LaCroix asked, incredulously. How had he lost a year and a half of his life? Still, it was better than the selective amnesia he'd suffered before the surgery. He apparently knew who and what he was.

Nick nodded timidly. He snuggled closer into LaCroix's embrace.

"If I let you out of this cell, what will you do?" LaCroix asked.

"I don't know," Nick admitted. "Maybe I should go in to work?"

LaCroix chuckled. "We are a long way from Toronto, my child. You were quite violent. Zuhayr put you here for your own safety, as well as that of the fledglings. If you will behave yourself, we can go upstairs. Perhaps you would like something to drink?"

"You're not angry?" Nick asked in a small voice, touching the ugly scabs at LaCroix's throat.

"No, Nicholas. You were not yourself."

"I feel strange," he admitted.

LaCroix unlocked the door and held it, ushering Nicholas into the corridor. With his son still leaning into his embrace, they climbed the stairs to rejoin the vampire community. LaCroix beamed proudly. Zuhayr had given him three weeks. He had needed less than an hour. Nicholas was his once more!

The chatter of a dozen vampires stilled when they entered the great hall. LaCroix felt Nick tremble beside him. He reached through their bond. 'Stand tall, Nicholas. Appear confidant, and the battle is already won.'

'Oui, Monsieur LaCroix,' Nicholas responded easily through the bond.

Zuhayr approached, his eyes hard. "What is the meaning of this," he demanded.

If Nicholas did not remember all of the past year and a half, then he did not recall meeting the ancient. LaCroix made a formal introduction. "Nicholas, may I present Zuhayr, an ancient of our race and the leader of the council. Zuhayr, you remember my son, Nicholas?"

Zuhayr said nothing.

Nick gave a courtly bow, flashing a boyish grin at the stranger. "Good evening, Lord Zuhayr," he said. It took a moment before LaCroix realized that Nick had spoken in his native French.

Zuhayr eyed him skeptically. He glanced at LaCroix. "He doesn't remember?" he asked. The ancient had slipped into French as well. Languages came easily to their race, and were never forgotten no matter how long it had been since last spoken.

LaCroix shook his head slightly.

Nick looked about the room. He seemed curious, yet too polite to voice his questions.

"What is it," LaCroix prodded gently.

"These tapestries," Nick said, indicating the ornate rugs that covered the walls. "Are they from the East? I recognize the style. We have similar ones, but ours are in far better condition. These are terribly old. Is our host in dire straights?"

LaCroix chuckled. He could not remember a time when Nicholas had been more outspoken. "Lord Zuhayr is quite wealthy," he assured him, stressing the odd title Nicholas had given him. "But perhaps his mind has been on other matters. I'm sure, now that you've pointed it out to him, he will have them replaced before the next Feast."

"I am hungry," Nick announced. "You may serve me now."

Zuhayr boomed. His belly shook and a dozen startled young vampires turned to stare at him. "Nicky, you are priceless! Bring out the finest, for tonight we celebrate!"

Nick accepted a goblet and sipped at it. LaCroix watched, wondering if he would insist on bovine blood, but Nicholas seemed unaware of what he consumed at all. Instead, his curiosity led him everywhere. He explored the many artifacts about the room, touching them all, and asking questions. While he seemed unconcerned about the missing year and a half of his life, he wanted to know everything about Scholomance Castle.

LaCroix stood back and watched. When Nicholas had first arrived, he'd handled the vampire infants with intimidation. Tonight he converted them into simpering admirers with only his boyish charm and innate charisma.

Zuhayr stood beside him. "It is hard to believe he is the same vampire who came here only three weeks ago," he said.

LaCroix didn't disagree. "It's good to have him back."

*****

Luka grew restless. Jarod was still camped in front of his computer, and he had not seen Natalie since yesterday. Now that the surgery was over, there was nothing for him to do. The vampires would probably do their amnesia-hypnosis thing again, then send him back to Chicago. It was his home, sort of. He had friends there, or at least acquaintances. But did they miss him?

He sipped at the cold coffee and grimaced. It bothered him that he would soon be discarded, having outlived his usefulness. For a few months he have felt a part of something again. It was going to be difficult to return to his former life.

The vampires didn't know that their hypnosis wouldn't hold. It never did with him. Oh, he'd forget for a few weeks, and suffer terrible migraines. He'd feel the ache of something missing, and then one night in a dream it would all return. He'd met vampires a dozen times in his life, and every time it was the same. Except for one time, when he'd first met Nick, blind and injured in a mugging attempt, over a year ago. Nick had not tried to take away his memories.

If Nick were himself now, perhaps Luka could go to him? Perhaps he could plead his case? But what would that be? He didn't know what he wanted to ask. Not conversion. He didn't want to become one of them. But he was intrigued. He yearned for the sense of permanence and family that they took for granted. Maybe he yearned for friendship with immortals, knowing that it was unlikely he would ever outlive them. The loss of his wife and children still haunted him. It was not something he could ever get over. His existence seemed but a hollow shell. His life was without purpose. And he knew that his emotional state was affecting his work performance.

He didn't want to leave. It was just as simple as that. He set down his coffee cup and went to find the vampires.

It sounded like a party coming from the great hall. Luka smiled, resisting the urge to dance to the gay music as he approached. Suddenly, his way was barred. LaCroix and Zuhayr blocked the door. He jumped back a step, intimidated by them, yet not afraid to die.

"Good evening, sirs," he said politely.

"You should return to the tower," Zuhayr warned.

Luka blinked. He was no longer welcome. "I see," he stammered. "Is that final? When would you like me to leave?"

LaCroix shook his head. He never used to care what a mortal thought or felt. This was all Nicholas's fault. "It's not you," he said. "It's Nicholas. He is here, and I am uncertain how he will react around a mortal. For your own safety, you should leave."

Luka smiled wistfully. "You need me."

It was LaCroix's turn to look surprised. He needed no one. Except Nicholas.

"If he is recovering, then one day he will need to leave this place. You need to know if he is a danger to us. I am expendable. No one will ever miss me. I have no loved ones, no family or friends."

"Do you know what you are saying?" Zuhayr inquired.

Luka nodded.

"Why?"

"I wish to stay," he answered simply.

LaCroix hesitated, but Zuhayr stood aside and gestured for Luka to enter. "Be my guest," the ancient said magnanimously.

A dozen vampires, their arms entwined shoulder to shoulder, were dancing to the gypsy music of balalaikas and tambourines. The song was familiar. Luka knew the words, a silly song about little donuts, but the dance looked like fun, and at the head of the line was Nick.

The golden vampire stood tall and proud, with the air of a prince. No trace of his long illness or infirmity remained. Luka blinked away moisture, relieved that their task had been successful. Then he joined the end of the line and danced.

The music increased in tempo. The line undulated through the hall, weaving back in on itself. Luka was breathing hard, although the vampires did not even break a sweat. When the music finally ended, they stamped a booted foot and threw their arms in the air with a loud, joyous cry.

LaCroix moved quickly to stand beside Luka. "Nicholas," he said. "Do you remember Luka Kovach?"

Nick joined them, his hands on his hips as he eyed the mortal. He turned to LaCroix. "I have never seen this face before," he said firmly.

"That is true," Luka agreed. "You were blind then. But surely you recall my voice?"

Nick's eyes narrowed and his chin lifted slightly. He glanced again at LaCroix for confirmation. LaCroix nodded. Nick shrugged. "If you say so."

LaCroix exhaled the breath he'd been holding. Nick's fangs hadn't erupted. He didn't seem interested in the mortal at all. He knew then that after the Feast, they could safely return to Toronto.

"If you'll excuse me, Nicholas," he said, "I've a few calls to make. I will return shortly."

Nick bowed his head, granting him leave. LaCroix smiled shrewdly. If his child's recent memories never returned, it was of no consequence. This was a side of Nicholas he could live with forever. Nicholas, the proud crusader, the heir of Brabant, more his equal than his slave... Nicholas, his oldest and dearest friend.

It was time to summon Tracy. They had a feast to celebrate.

Acknowledgement:

I would like to thank my dear online buddies and beta readers. First, Laurie of the Isles, who has unfailingly checked my grammar and spelling. If you find any errors in this text, then it must be a typo or my own fault, for she has been fantastic. I'd also like to thank Susan Fields and Sunny LaCountess for their suggestions in fixing the plot. This story has been challenging to write. I'm sure I have cut more copy than the entire finished story contains. I guess my muse didn't like it when I threatened to make this Dance the last one. Finally, I'd like to thank you, all my readers, who through your many emails and kind messages, have encouraged me to continue this series.