Nick didn't know how Tracy managed to nap on the motorcycle, with the crazy way Vachon drove. He hit every pothole he saw, thrilling at the moments the bike became airborne. Nick rode too fast, too, not even letting the speeding ticket he'd received alter him much, but he wasn't reckless. And after a time, he didn't want the trip to ever end. Urs was cuddled up close behind him. He could feel her pressed against his back, her breath on his neck, the Harley Davidson motor rumbling between his legs. Life didn't get much better.
Still, the faint pink on the horizon made them push even harder. He didn't want to have to ditch their bikes and fly the rest of the way. The last roads were gravel- keeping up a speed of 170 kph would not be possible. At least LaCroix wouldn't be worried about Tracy. He, like Nick, had assumed that there was plenty of time to reach the cottage before dawn. Neither of them had remembered how long women take to pack and get ready, even for anything as short as an overnight trip.
Finally the woods parted to reveal the little rustic hideaway. Nick didn't come here often. He had bought it three years ago, when LaCroix had found him again, suspecting that he might need a safe haven from time to time. He didn't think LaCroix knew its whereabouts. If he did, at least he had respected Nick's need for this small privacy.
It wasn't much. A small, three bedroom log cabin, the kind that was made from a kit. The workmanship was less than stellar, as Nick had done much of it himself. The kitchen was still unfinished. It had a refrigerator and microwave, but no stove, although a small dishwasher had been installed on his last visit. The appliances were neutral colored, unlike the black of his loft. This place was meant to be different. It was not a 'home away from home' but rather, another life.
The walls were a light pine color, the carpet a matching beige called "winter wheat". It had huge windows along the northern wall of the living room, where he could see the forest and the stars from the couch. There was no television set. The reception out here would have been poor anyway. He did have a small stereo CD player. There was a cast-iron fireplace, but it was still unused. He'd never brought a mortal here to need the warmth, and the few times he had hidden here, he had not felt up to the comforting sounds of a fire.
Two of the bedrooms were downstairs, behind the living room. They were smaller and adequate, with full-sized beds and dressers. But upstairs was his room.
It was a loft bedroom, which had always appealed to him. The oversized mattress was round, and made up with satin sheets with a velvet spread and dozens of pillows. He had taken great pains to make the bedroom comfortable and luxurious as he had hoped one day to bring Janette here. However, his sister's tastes had always been more aristocratic. She would not enjoy a single day in this rustic cabin in the woods.
Urs and Vachon walked around the lower level and smiled their appreciation. Tracy stood still in the doorway, her eyes more closed than opened.
Nick brought in the saddlebags from his bike and urged Vachon to do the same, before flying through the cabin to make certain all the shades were drawn. He didn't have them on remotes here. He hadn't even had electricity brought in. He had a small generator for emergencies, and solar powered battery cells for general use. There were only a few electric lights; mostly he just used candles. His thought was to keep this place secret- and bringing in power meant creating a paper trail of utility bills that could be traced.
Being secretive now didn't seem so important. When Tracy had first asked to come, he had hesitated. Once she knew where it was, LaCroix would soon know as well. Still, they would enjoy this weekend retreat, and then maybe he would sell the cabin.
"Tracy, do you want to drink something before going to bed," Nick asked, nudging his sleepwalking baby sister.
"Yeah," she murmured.
Urs took a bottle out of the fridge and smiled at him curiously. It was not Nick's usual bovine product. He shrugged sheepishly and accepted the glass she offered.
Tracy ignored the glass Vachon held out to her, taking instead an entire bottle and draining it instantly. It had the effect of waking her up. "This is really great, Nick! If I had a place like this, I think I'd come here every chance I got! This is so cool! Will you build a fire?"
Nick rolled his eyes at Urs. This was the enthusiastic "perky" mode he had told her about. With a playful smirk, he answered Tracy. "Why, Baby? Are you cold?"
She was too happy to notice the patronizing tone. "No. I just love the sound and smell it makes. Please, please!"
Nick humored her. He had a large pile of firewood stacked just outside, and a basket of pinecones for kindling. Before long the pungent aroma of hot pinesap permeated the air.
Vachon yawned. Dawn was almost upon them. It seemed to him that it was bedtime, not build a fire and party time, but Tracy had other ideas. Rifling through her small bag, she came up with a deck of cards. She plopped down on the floor in front of the couch and shuffled the deck like a casino gambler.
"Poker, anyone?" She smiled her best innocent-look, which might even have rivaled Nick's.
"Do you know how to play?" asked Urs.
Vachon snorted. "What are the stakes, Baby?"
She batted her eyelashes at him, not taking offense at his use of Nick's new nickname. Nick kept silent. He thought he was watching a con-artist at work, and suspected that she knew very well how to play. Just in case, he wasn't going to take off his jacket, although the others already had.
"I thought a game of strip poker might be fun, before bed," she suggested. "It shouldn't take long. You know I probably can't stay awake much longer."
Now Nick was certain it was a snow job. She'd napped on the trip.
Vachon grinned. "Count me in."
Urs sat on Tracy's left and Vachon on her right. "Come on, Nick. Even you have to know this game," Tracy urged.
Nick shrugged. "I've played a little." He sat across from Tracy, giving her the innocent-look back.
She offered Vachon the cut, then started dealing. "Five card draw, deuces wild."
It didn't take long before Vachon and Urs realized they had greatly underestimated the opposition, as they sat completely naked. Either Nick or Tracy had won every hand. Nick had lost his jacket, shoes, socks, and shirt. Tracy had lost sweatshirt, jeans, and her bra, pulling it off under the T-shirt she still wore. Vachon had called "no-fair", but Nick just laughed.
It was distracting, trying to continue the game, while their lovers were so near, and so tantalizingly naked. Nick struggled to keep his eyes on his cards or his partner, although Urs was breathing in his ear. Tracy didn't fair much better. Vachon wanted the game to end so he could take her to bed.
"I am not going to lose, Knight," she challenged.
"We'll see, Baby," he said.
She lost the next hand. She still had shoes and socks, but with a wicked grin at Nick she tore off her T-shirt. He stared, open-mouthed, at her... distraction. Two hands later and Nick lost his belt, Tracy her panties.
Nick was fighting sleep. He was fighting against the primal urges his lover was stirring. And now Tracy assaulted him through the link they shared, as Nick struggled to remember how many cards he needed. In two hands flat, Nick joined the ranks of the naked, leaving Tracy the victor. She jumped to her feet and did a victory dance, clad only in her socks and shoes.
"You should have warned me how conniving she was," Vachon pouted good-naturedly.
"I hate a poor winner," Nick said. Grinning, he and Vachon tackled her, pinning her to the carpet and started tickling her mercilessly.
"Stop it! Stop! Please!" she cried out, laughing hard.
Urs came to her aid, knowing just where Nick was ticklish as well. Wrestling unclothed was not easy, Nick realized, releasing Tracy to face his lover. "You're on your own, Vachon," he called. He grabbed Urs and flew to the loft.
Natalie worried all day long, which wreaked havoc with her ability to sleep. What sort of concert would it be? How should she dress? Was she really stupid to encourage another vampire to become a part of her life?
She searched the entertainment section of last Sunday's paper to see which concerts would be playing. The London Symphony was at the Jane Mallet Theater. There were several rock concerts, and a stand-up comic. There was also a one-man play being performed, but that wasn't a concert at all. She took a guess that LaCroix would attend the London Symphony. This could be a very formal affair. It seemed to suit what little she knew of him.
It was winter now. That limited her choices. She had only two formal gowns, and one was definitely for summer. Maybe she would have time to go shopping? But that wouldn't leave her time to fix her hair. Well- she had plenty of time to make an appointment!
Jumping from bed, she called the beauty salon at the Mall while heading in for a shower. There was no time to waste. By the appointed time she was suitably attired in a sleeveless velvet evening gown of midnight blue, with long white gloves, and a small velvet choker at her throat. Her shoes and wrap were white, as well. Mountains of chestnut hair was demurely piled on top of her head with star-shaped sequins sprinkled among the curls, and two curling strands hung loose to frame her face. She felt pretty. She felt like a woman again, and it had been a long time since she'd felt like that.
LaCroix arrived at precisely 7:30, and briefly appeared surprised that she was ready and waiting for him. He recovered quickly though, and presented her with a corsage. Natalie blushed, feeling like a prom date, while he pinned the fragrant orchid at her breast. Then she was escorted to the limousine below.
The evening passed in a blur. He was attentive and polite. He said the right things, touched her just enough to feel prickles of desire, and not enough to feel pushed. The program included many Christmas numbers, including selections from Handel's Messiah and Tchaikovsky's oft-played Nutcracker. She glanced at her date, wondering if the music offended him at all. Nicholas seemed to crave religious contact and fear it all at once.
LaCroix simply seemed to be enjoying the music.
"Did you ever meet them," Nat asked, suddenly curious.
LaCroix nodded and gave her a slight smile. "Yes. I preferred Tchaikovsky, though, but I didn't encourage Nicholas to spend time with him. He was entirely too melancholy, which does dreadful things for my son's usually "cheerful" disposition," he said, letting a trace of humor show in his voice.
Natalie smiled. She had heard Nick play his piano on a number of occasions, and he did seem to prefer Russian composers, with their sense of the tragic. "The Nutcracker is cheerful, though," Natalie thought aloud.
"Yes. And Peter Ilich despised it. He thought it was a trite bit of fluff, and later in life he even refused to perform it. He was much happier being miserable with his operas."
She became silent again, enjoying the music and the company. If she chose a life with LaCroix, it would be like a living history lesson. But Nick had made his life with his master sound like a living hell. She knew they were on better terms these days, although she sensed it was not solid. How much of their difficulties was actually Nick's fault? She had always taken Nick's side... Nat knew Nick wasn't easy to get along with. He was stubborn, proud, passionate, and impulsive- loving one minute and thoughtless the next. Perhaps, she had judged LaCroix too harshly? Could anyone have put up with Nick for 800 years and done any better than he?
After the concert, LaCroix escorted her into the reception area and introduced her to some of the musicians. Natalie was speechless. They seemed to know him, and two even looked a bit pale, like they might have known him for a very long time. When she shook their cold hands, she was almost sure of it. Still, her hands got cold when she was nervous, and finding vampires everywhere was a dangerous activity for a mortal, so she said nothing.
After the concert, and the limo ride back to her house, LaCroix escorted her to the door and kissed her hand goodnight. She hesitated. Should she invite this very proper, elegant, powerful creature into her humble and less-than-tidy abode? He did not seem to expect it though, as he held her hand.
"May I call you again," he inquired.
This was it. She sensed that at her word, he would either go away and never see her again, or she would be committed to a relationship with him. The evening had been perfect. She smiled up at his blue eyes. Before she had always thought of them as "ice blue"- cold, hard, unyielding. Tonight something was different about them. They were blue, and still powerful, but more like the sky. Often changing. Sometimes a clear blue like a summer sky, sometimes gray like before a storm. They were fathomless. And perhaps, just a little lonely tonight.
"I would like that very much," she answered truthfully.
He continued to hold her hand, but slowly move closer. Very slowly. One glance, and she could break the spell, turn him away, but all she could do was to lean towards him encouragingly. As if in slow motion, the distance between them closed. His lips sought hers. For one breathless moment, they kissed.
"Good night then, my dear Natalie," he whispered. And he left. It was not a hasty retreat, like Nick had often done after a too-close moment. LaCroix was more in control of himself. Strange, she thought, watching his retreating form. He was so much more powerful than Nick, but she felt safer with him. He would not do anything he did not plan to do.
"Good night, Lucien," she whispered to the empty hallway. Although she hadn't slept much all day, she suspected sleep would still be a long time coming.
LaCroix returned home satisfied. The evening had been utterly pleasant. Miss Lambert was enchanting, even when she wasn't arguing, he realized. He would have to move very slowly, however. Enough mortal time must pass that she would be a more suitable mate for him than for Nicholas. He loved his son, and was not going to let a woman come between them. Also, she had to be certain that this was what she truly wanted. While fledglings sometimes did not adjust well and did not live long there after, this was another situation he could not allow to happen. Besides, Tracy needed him rather more full-time. If he waited half a decade or more, perhaps he would be freer to pursue more personal interests.
It was faint dawn by the time he lay in his bed. Gently, he reached out to sense his children. Janette had grown distant of late. She was not clear, only that she was contented, for Janette. Next he sought Nicholas. The boy was mirthful, as was Tracy. They must be enjoying one another, he realized, trying to staunch the sense of longing that arose in him quite suddenly. They were safe. And he must find a way to keep them like that.
Sleep would not come to him, though. Natalie was fine, his children were fine, what was it that troubled him and kept him awake? He tossed about and turned again, finally giving up and went in search of some delicacy to satisfy his hunger. Later, sitting alone in his favorite chair by the fireplace, he knew what was the matter. He was alone.
Much later, as he still lay awake in bed, he was struck by a sense of longing. He had been expecting as much from Tracy, and was a little surprised he hadn't felt it sooner. Now as he closed his eyes and tried to comfort her over the link, he was startled to realize that it was not Tracy he felt, but Nicholas...
Tracy awoke midday absolutely ravenous. The sun was still high, she knew, and the other vampires were all sound asleep. She often awoke to feed more, and usually could return right back to sleep. Moving carefully, so not to awake Vachon, she left the bedroom.
The fire was nearly out. A few embers still burned and the house still smelled that fresh wood-smoke and pine scent. Inhaling deeply, she tried to memorize this scent. She's have to make sure she had a fireplace in her next house.
She went to the fridge and was just pulling the door open when Nick startled her.
"Trace? Everything all right?"
"Geesh, Nick! I didn't think you could still do that, now that I'm not mortal any more!"
He just shrugged.
"Yeah, I'm fine. You can go back to bed and stop being Big Brother. I often wake up hungry."
Nick got out two glasses and sat at the table. "I'll join you," he said.
She poured and took a seat. It was a perfect time to talk to him, she realized, without the distractions of the others, but now she didn't quite know what to say or how to start it.
Nick actually gave her the lead, unknowingly. "I'm surprised that LaCroix let you come here. How did you manage to get his approval?"
She smiled. "I think he was thrilled to get us both out of Toronto for the weekend. He'd probably prefer it if we stayed here until Caspian and Corda leave."
Tracy saw Nick wince at the mention of their names.
"I doubt that," Nick said derisively.
"Then you just don't know," she said. "They mean to do us harm, to spite him."
"I sure get tired of bearing the brunt of his interpersonal relationships," Nick snapped. "What did he do this time?"
"You don't know?" she whispered. "Nick, their brother was Takis."
Tracy was struck with fear so sharp that she broke out in a blood sweat, and in the next instant, with a rage that turned her eyes to red. With trembling hands she grabbed her glass and drained it, slowly realizing that those emotions were not her own, but Nick's. His eyes were clenched shut, but a soft red glow illumined his eyelashes, as he upended the bottle in a vain attempt to calm his beast.
"Nick, I'm sorry," she said softly.
"Forget it. It was over a long time ago. It was the night that taught me never to count on LaCroix."
Tracy nearly choked. She had learned the exact opposite, from the same story! "Nick, how can you say that! He loves you! He would do anything for you!"
"He wasn't there," Nick spat angrily. "Takis took me, assaulted me, and LaCroix did not protect me!"
"And he killed Takis in his rage."
"And then he left!" Nick rose from the table, pacing restlessly, his hands still trembling. Tracy saw the blood sweat on his brow, smelled it on his skin.
"He had to," she started to explain.
"No! He left me alone. For a week. I was hurting, and I needed him. He was nowhere to be found. A week later, he returned, no explanation for where he'd been, and informed me it was time to move on. Nothing was ever quite the same after that."
"Nick, do you honestly think he would have left you alone then if he'd had a choice?"
"What else was I to think? I'm sorry, Tracy. He's your master now, and you have to depend on him. But forgive me if I don't."
"Nick, don't be an ass," she snapped, getting angry herself.
He glared at her.
Tracy got up and faced him, her hands on her hips. "He killed an older vampire. I wasn't around back then, but I've been told that killing a vampire is a serious crime. Caspian and Corda brought him before the council where he stood charged. They did not win his life, only the right to exact a pound of flesh. Nick, they beat him severely. He, being every bit as stubborn and pig-headed as you, refused to come back to you until he had healed. And he was too proud to explain that to you."
"So why did he tell you," Nick demanded, sounding a bit less sure of himself.
Tracy sighed. Perhaps it was time for total honesty. She told him then about her run in with the elder pair. "Nick, he misses you. Please, make things right with him!"
Nick sank back onto a chair. He stared at his hands, no longer trembling. "I don't know if I can."
Red tears slipped down her cheeks. Nick looked up and brushed at them with his thumbs. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"No, it's not that," she said quietly. "I was just struck with this feeling of- I don't know. An empty spot, like I really really miss him and I wish he was here right now."
"I know," Nick said. "That is the link. A fledgling craves his master. It is part of who we are."
She looked at Nick then, through unshed tears. "Poor Nick. You felt this, that week, and he wasn't there. And Poor Vachon. Do you think he feels this longing, since he never really had a master?"
Nick took her into his arms and held her. "Don't fret for us, Baby. Come, you are just overtired. Let me take you back to bed."
She leaned up on her toes and nuzzled his neck. "Let's not go right back to bed, Nicky? Please?"
Nick's fangs fell instantly and he growled low in his chest. She was the most mercurial vampire he had ever met. She was like a whirlwind, and he was dizzy. Taking her in to the living room, he caressed her, until they were both clinging to one another in the after throes of their passion.
Tracy had tried to concentrate on her memories of what LaCroix had passed to her in his blood concerning his torture at Caspian's hands, hoping that Nick would see it. She wasn't really sure how this vampire thing worked, and concentrating on anything except Nick while he was doing that to her was next to impossible. He was so passionate, so gentle, and so wonderful! And she was thrilled that he was her new brother, as it was a tie that would last beyond the centuries.
Nick lifted her and carried her back to Vachon's bed. She was nearly asleep in his arms. "Sleep well, Baby," he whispered.
"Hmm," was all she said.
Slowly, he found his way back up the stairs. He'd seen LaCroix in her blood. That wasn't surprising, as she'd been thinking about him just before they made love. But, he'd seen LaCroix, bleeding on the floor of a prison cell, hungry and unfed, chained, suffering. That was unusual and more than a little unsettling. Was it true? If only his master had told him! Takis had been a vile creature, preying on the weaker, torturing them, raping them, sometimes killing them in his depraved violence. The world was better off that he was dead. But Nick and LaCroix had suffered enough at his death. No one should suffer again. He would do all he could to avoid Caspian and Corda for the duration of their stay in Toronto. And perhaps, it was time to forgive LaCroix for yet another old hurt.
Laying down next to Urs, he pulled her into his arms. His eyes were heavy and he was nearly asleep. It wasn't Urs that filled his thoughts, though, neither was it Tracy. "Master," he thought.
From the link that tied them over the miles, over the centuries, Nick was comforted with an answering thought. "My son."
