Waltz in the Sky, 08a/14 By Lorelei Sieja
Natalie smiled at them. "I was wondering when you two were going to get here," she said lightly.
Nick shrugged, but Tracy moved closer to whisper conspiratorially in Nat's ear. "He wouldn't let me out of the car until I'd fed well," she confessed.
"Well it's a good thing, too. It's pretty messy," the coroner warned.
Nick stepped protectively between Tracy and the body then, before lifting the drape. A woman around forty years old lay on the carpeting, gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen. The blood was cold. It didn't affect him at all, but he could hear Tracy behind him. Her breathing accelerated. It was the sense of adventure, of the hunt, he suspected, and she wasn't even aware of it yet. He dropped the drape and moved closer to Tracy.
"Was she married?" Tracy asked.
Nat nodded, but a uniformed officer answered. "Not really- they were separated a year ago."
"So, we look for the estranged husband," Tracy said, glancing at Nick.
Nick moved away from the body to examine the room. Already a team was dusting for prints and cataloging everything. Nick didn't interfere with them. Anything they found would be in their report. He looked for things they might not see, using senses they didn't possess.
"So where's her dog?" he asked.
"Dog?" several others asked. "Did you know her? What makes you think she had a dog?"
Nick thought fast as he looked around. He couldn't say because he'd smelled it's presence, or they'd be calling him "bloodhound" for months, which was definitely worse than "knightmare". His eyes fell on a plate on the kitchen floor. It had been licked clean, but the noxious scent of dog food clung to the dish. He pointed at it. "Because she's got a dog."
Tracy pulled open a few cupboards, but there was very little in the way of food fit for consumption- dog or human. Then she peeked into the trash and pulled out a small empty can of a name-brand dog food. "Nick's right. And I'd guess it was a little dog. But either she was planning on moving out, or she didn't have much money. These cupboards are pretty bare. With winter coming, most women tend to stock up."
They spent another half-hour going through the room, then Nick decided it was time to take Tracy home so he could keep his appointment at the park.
The park was empty this hour of night at this time of year. It was a smaller park, and the neighborhood had changed. Once it had been apartments and children, now it was mostly abandoned buildings and warehouses. Now only cats dug in the sandbox. Most of the swings were broken; their chains dangled uselessly or were wrapped around the top bar. There was a single streetlight over the parking lot, but the remainder of the park was dark and neglected, just like the neighborhood.
He waited inside the car, trying to shield himself from the presence of other vampires. It was something he was not very good at, but with younger vampires especially he could succeed. He still hadn't decided if he thought Turk was a young one, or an older one just setting him up.
For over an hour he waited, then he felt the tingle as another vampire approached. No cars drove up. This vampire was flying in. Nick growled angrily, as he waited for him to arrive.
Just on the other side of the playground, beyond a mortal's ability to see, the vampire landed. Nick got out the car and closed the door. Then in less than an eye-blink, he slammed the other vampire into the trunk of a tree. The tree shuddered at the impact. The young vampire gasped, his eyes golden with his surprise.
"You must be "Turk"," Nick hissed.
The vampire stuttered. Nick tossed him across the playground, flew over to haul him to his feet and flung him again. The younger one was thoroughly intimidated. "Stop, please stop," he begged fearfully.
Nick pulled on his coat front until his feet lifted off the ground and held him in the air. "Who are you! Where is your master!"
The vampire trembled and his speech was unintelligible. Nick shook him and demanded an answer, but that only further frightened him. Realizing the young vampire was not going to be capable of resisting him, Nick released him and let him drop to the ground.
The vampire remained there, bringing his arms up protectively and begging him for mercy.
"Answer me!" Nick demanded.
"T-t-t-Trevor! Trevor Ulrick Kincaid, -- Turk for short," he cried. "Why? What do you want?"
"You've been killing mortals," Nick accused, "and leaving around the evidence!"
Turk shook his head. "No, sir whoever you are, I didn't. I clean up good. I never left anything for 'em to find, honest!"
"What about Alvin Jacobs?"
Red tears leaked from Turk's eyes. Nick felt awful. He was acting like LaCroix, and the realization disgusted him. He reached out to offer Turk a hand but the vampire shrank away from him fearfully. Stifling a growl, Nick reached again and hauled him to his feet. He observed the other carefully.
Turk was 20-20. Twenty years old by both mortal and vampire age. He had red-brown hair, green eyes when they weren't filled with red tears or amber lights, and a childish dimple in one cheek that winked in and out of sight when he spoke. He was shorter than Nick by nearly a head, but broad shouldered. He might have played high school football as a mortal, but he didn't seem like he'd have made the team in college.
Now his stomach rumbled hungrily, and the amber lights of his eyes further announced his discomfort. Nick reached out with his senses and guessed the young Turk had not had a full meal in several weeks. Had Alvin Jacobs been an act of desperation? Nick could remember going hungry in centuries past, and how LaCroix would feed him his own ancient blood when the pain was too severe. But now, with bloodmobiles and places like the Raven, vampires should not have to suffer any more, even though modern technology also made their life more difficult.
"Where is your master," he asked again, this time controlling the volume of his voice.
Turk lowered his eyes and his shoulders slumped. "She's dead. Of the Fever."
"How did you survive?" Nick asked then. Natalie had made the antidote and the vampires helped to distribute it around, giving it out to masters to treat their children. But Nick hadn't known this Turk, and no one at the Raven seemed to know him either.
"When she first heard about the fever, she locked me up, kept me safe. She filled the room with bottles, then went away, promising she'd come for me. But she must have died. I stayed in there for weeks, until everything was gone, and I was near crazy with hunger. I don't know where I found the strength, but I tore my prison apart and escaped."
"Her name," Nick insisted. Turk responded better, now that Nick wasn't terrorizing him, but his hunger was blocking his ability to concentrate. Nick took his arm and led him towards the caddy. He still had a bottle tucked under the seat for Tracy. It would be a drop in the bucket for this starved infant, but it was a start.
"Auriel," he whispered. Nick heard the pain in his voice. Being an orphan was painful for a vampire. The instinctive longing for a master drove some mad after a while.
"Auriel," Nick repeated. The golden one. Her loss was a tragedy. Nick had met her, even danced a few dances with her, over the centuries. He wasn't sure of her age, only that she'd been older than he and younger than LaCroix. Auriel was an unusual name, often used for Roman slaves, and although he'd never been told, Nick had guessed that was her mortal origins. She'd been a different master, taking in children one at a time, loving them, training them, then granting them freedom. She never kept them like LaCroix did. Still, locking Turk up at the time of the fever had probably saved his life.
Nick pulled the bottle out from the caddy and handed it to the infant. He waited while Turk pulled the cork and drained it instantly. "So you've been orphaned for about three months," Nick guessed. "And you took up life as a hitman."
Turk nodded. "It seemed like a good idea. I get to hunt, and feed, and I get rent money, too."
"Well, it's a terrible idea," Nick snapped, and Turk flinched. "I know Auriel must have warned you how we must maintain the secret of our existence. Now Alvin Jacobs' body lies in a mortal's morgue, with vampire bites on his neck, and you are in pretty deep trouble."
"But I didn't kill him," Turk exclaimed. "Honest! I didn't!"
"You were heard in a conversation with Commissioner Vetter. He paid you to kill Jacobs. Don't deny it!"
"I took the money," Turk cried. "And I was going to kill him. But, somebody beat me to it! He was missing, and his body turned up dead before I had a chance to do it. But Vetter thought I'd killed him, and I needed the money. I'll give it back, if that's what you want, but I spent some of it, I can't give it all back."
"You didn't kill Jacobs," Nick stated flatly.
Turk shook his head.
Nick needed to know for certain. And the infant was still starving. He hesitated only a few moments before opening the buttons at his throat. For years he had denied himself to share vampire blood, but now, it seemed he craved it. It felt natural to offer to feed the infant, even while satisfying his need to know the truth. He took Turk and pulled him close, offering the infant his throat.
Turk trembled fearfully, but he licked at Nick's neck, bringing the vein beneath the skin closer to the surface as Nick's blood quickened at the erotic gesture. Then the infant's teeth plunged into him and he sucked hungrily.
Nick held him close and waited, feeding the infant before he returned the bite. Turk's blood slowly filled his mouth. He tasted the hunger and loneliness, the desperate need to please and to belong to someone. Turk was innocent of the Jacobs murder. He had killed two mortals over a span of two months, both at the request of the Commissioner, and he'd received less than two months rent for his efforts. The commissioner was paying slaves' wages; no other hitman in the country would have done it for that. Nick pulled out of Turk, but held the infant a few moments longer before pulling him away.
The infant seemed embarrassed. The blood exchange was always so intimate, so sexual, and the infant had not fed from any other except his master before. "It is our way," Nick explained. Although, it was a way he had denied himself for so long. But no more.
"What's going to happen to me?" Turk whispered.
Nick pulled open the door on the passenger side and shoved Turk inside before climbing behind the wheel. "No more killing mortals. I'm taking you to the Raven. You can stay there until we find a new master to adopt you. You will not be allowed to remain unclaimed until your training is complete."
"You aren't still angry with me?"
"No," Nick answered gruffly. Turk was young and ignorant, but not evil. Janette would have taken him in and loved him. How Nick missed her! He would do all he could to find this stray a home, in honor of her.
The Raven was crowded with mortals celebrating what they called "TGIF", but there was a fair crowd of vampires as well. Nick brought Turk to the bar and spoke to Patrick. "Give him all he can drink of the uncut stock, and put it on LaCroix's bill."
Patrick nodded knowingly. The ancient was not philanthropic, but Janette had demanded that he provide for strays. Nick had just informed Patrick that this was a stray, under protection from Janette's phantom presence; LaCroix would care for him, whether he liked it or not.
"After you've had your fill, I'll show you where you can bunk down tonight," Patrick said to Turk.
Turk turned fearful eyes to Nick. "Are you leaving me?"
Nick nodded. He was not going to adopt this one. Tracy was more than he could handle at the moment, and she was only his part-time. This one would drive him crazy quickly. "I still must find the one who killed Jacobs," he explained. "You will be safe here. And I will find you a home."
"Thank you," Turk said sincerely.
Nick felt Tracy's approach. He moved towards the back of the bar to greet her at the foot of the stairs. She carried a small bag over her shoulder, and LaCroix kissed her lightly before turning to sneer at the new stray at the bar.
"Have you been demoted from detective to dogcatcher?" he asked scornfully.
Nick grit his teeth but refused to be baited into another fight. "His master, Auriel, died in the Fever. He needs a home," Nick answered.
LaCroix's eyes closed at the mention of her name. Nick sensed his grief, and wondered how well he had known her.
"That is unfortunate," LaCroix said, his voice strangely husky. "Run along then." And he escaped inside his soundbooth.
Nick led Tracy back to the caddy and returned to the precinct. The shift was nearly over, and they were no closer to closing the case than they had been a week ago. Damned frustrating. Maybe after two days off, not thinking about it at all, he could come back at it with a new perspective. Maybe the cottage would be the perfect place to unwind....
A little after four, Nick knocked on Reese's door. "Uh, Captain? Here are my reports, and I was wondering. Would it be all right to knock off a little early? I wanted to get out of town for the weekend, and I'd like to arrive before sunrise."
"What about you're partner?" Reese asked. Nick had certainly earned a little leniency- he'd put in six years with the force already, and most of his sick leave had been taken only in the last few months. But Tracy would not be allowed to work alone.
"Um, I'm taking her with me," Nick hedged.
Reese stared at him hard. He still didn't believe the rumors going around, and Nick wasn't blushing. "Yes, go," he growled good-naturedly. "Get out of here."
Tracy didn't have to ask Nick the verdict. She cleared off her desk with growing excitement.
"Hey, Baby, calm down before you burst something," Nick whispered softly, but not soft enough. Several officers heard his new nickname for her and took it to be a term of endearment. Tracy was about to say something, when she felt Vachon's approach. Nick restrained her with an arm around her shoulder, before she could fly off to greet him.
Vachon entered the precinct, his usual scruffy-looking self in black leather, but Urs looked fantastic. Lusciously wrapped in sensual innocence and black leather, she was turning heads everywhere. Vachon had his arm around her in a way that was acceptable between masters and children, but the mortals stared wondering what the knightmare was going to do to that guy flirting with his girl.... Nick just moved to greet them with his arm still draped around Tracy. Then they made a show of trading partners, and arm-in-arm, they left, unable to hear any gossip at all, as the mortals were speechless.
"I say we take the caddy," Nick insisted. "There's more room in the trunk for cargo."
"You always drive," Vachon argued. "I say we take the bikes, and take less luggage."
Urs smiled at Tracy. Men. The bikes were fun, being in the open, the wind in her hair, the daring, the small thrill at the imagined sense of danger. The caddy would be fun for Tracy, since Nick would insist on driving and she and Vachon could have the back seat. "Does my opinion count?" she asked innocently, smiling up at her lover.
The men glared at each other before looking at her. "Of course," they said.
"I would prefer the bikes, this time," she replied, feeling she had let Nick down.
"Me too," Tracy agreed.
Nick shrugged. "Fine. The bikes. But ladies, this is the size of the saddlebags. That is all you bring."
It didn't take long to make the final decisions. Except for Nick, none of them had been to the cottage before. He assured them that there was a sufficient supply in the refrigerator and the cottage was fully equipped with bedding, towels, even some spare clothing. He hadn't been there in almost a year, though, and it might not be very tidy. Urs, being a practical sort, packed soap and some new CDs. Tracy packed games. Neither one of them thought clothing would be important.
When Nick straddled his bike, all thoughts of his caddy were gone. It was as if he had peeled back another layer of the veneer in which he cloaked himself, and they were able to meet him on another, more intimate level. He was younger, daring, and wild. Urs climbed on the seat behind and hugged him. Revving the engine, Nick grinned at Vachon wickedly.
"It's a good thing you're carrying Baby," he said, "or I might just lose you on the way!"
"Ha-ha," Tracy complained at his new nickname for her. She wasn't sure if it was better than "Button" or not.
"If you think you can outride me, Knight, you're sadly mistaken," Vachon challenged. And they set off, breaking every speed limit they passed by almost double.
Natalie sighed as she finished the autopsy on Professor Dubois. He had died of a heart attack, possibly brought on by thieves that were in his house. The perpetrators were guilty of breaking and entering, but not murder. In fact, no one knew who had put the call in to 911, but it must have been the thieves, themselves. Poor Dubois. He wasn't very old, but poor diet, high stress and too much cholesterol killed him at the age of 45. Not that much older than she was, she realized with fright. Life's a bitch, she muttered.
"And then there is unlife," LaCroix said gently, enjoying the way she jumped when he startled her.
"Why do you guys always have to do that!" she snapped.
He smiled and offered her a light shrug. "Because we can."
Natalie stared at him for long moments, awkward in the silence and unsure how to break it. A few weeks ago she would have snapped at him, and they would have had a verbal conflict, and then he would be gone, leaving her breathless and confused. She was willing to jump to the breathless part and leave everything else out.
"So how are you tonight," she stammered. It sounded really dumb. Vampires were never sick, they never aged, nothing really hurt them. How else would he be but the same as he was last night? And all the nights before?
Only, LaCroix wasn't laughing at her. His patrician features were smooth, neither contorted with rage nor mirth, but something about the eyes was different. A loneliness, perhaps, that she'd not noticed before. She was probably wrong, reading mortal feelings into this unmortal being.
"Nicholas has taken Tracy to his cottage for the weekend. She was finding the constant stimuli of the city overwhelming. It is strange, that without her constant presence replete with annoying habits, my apartment seems a bit empty."
"You miss them, huh," Natalie surmised.
"I believe that is what I just said," LaCroix replied with the touch of that aristocratic snobbishness that she associated with him.
She smiled. "So, you came over to the neighborhood morgue for a bit of entertainment?"
His eyes widened with surprise. She had ruffled that cool exterior! This was something to remember!
He stammered. "No, that was not my intention."
Natalie watched as he backed away from her, and feared he would leave without saying whatever it was he had come here to say. If she didn't act soon, he would be gone. And maybe forever. She knew that guilt or honor would not hold LaCroix here, as it did Nick. Did she want him to stay?
She closed the gap between them. "Is there something you wanted?" she asked.
He grew very stern. "I came to ask if you would like to attend the concert with me tomorrow evening."
"I'd love to," she said quickly, against her better judgement.
The sternness left at once. A smile touched his eyes, even if it didn't quite reach his lips. "The concert begins at 8. I will come for you by 7:30."
She nodded her agreement, too stunned to speak at the moment. Then he left as silently as he had arrived.
What was she getting herself in to? She sure had strange tastes in men! The only mortal date she'd had in the past few years had been a rapist murderer. The others had all been vampires. Nick, of course, and one near-fatal date with Spark, and now LaCroix. "Girl, you have to go out more," she chided herself.
