The balance isn't any harder
You've just got further to fall...
--David Wilcox
Beep.
"Hey, Knight, it's Schanke. Four-thirty p.m. Sorry to bug you on your day off, but nobody's seen or heard from Natalie since she left last night, and the folks in the coroner's office are getting a little antsy. I know you guys are pretty tight, and I thought you'd want to stop by her place, see what you can find out."
Nick could smell the blood from the stairs, and for a moment he held on to the hope that it was in some other apartment, any other apartment.
Rapping loudly on the door, he called, "Hey, Nat, open up! You got a lot of people worried."
No response, not even the sound of human breathing--though Sydney's feline presence was evident--and the blood-scent was undeniably within. Checking quickly to make sure he was not observed, he gave the door a hearty shove, forcing the stout deadbolt through the doorframe.
"Nat!" He reached the sprawled figure in a heartbeat, and in another knew he was too late. She was utterly still, not a breath, not a heartbeat, though he strained his vampire hearing for a hint of either. The grey tabby sat guarding his mistress, looking up at the detective as if beseeching him to help her.
Grief and black rage welled up in him, joined by a sharp stab of guilt when he saw the two neat holes in her throat. How had he thought he could shield her from his world? He should have learned by now--no matter what his intentions, mortals he got close to always paid the price.
"I'll find out who did this, Nat," he swore, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll find them, and they'll wish the sun had found them first!" He heard the floor beneath her carpet crack under his fist. "And no matter what I do, you'll still be gone," he added in a whisper.
After several minutes he collected himself somewhat and crossed the room to the telephone. Suddenly he froze, hand poised above the buttons, at the sound of a soft moan, followed by a confused meow from Sydney. Receiver still in hand, he watched in shock as Nat drew her knees up in a fetal position with a whimper like a hurt puppy.
"Oh, no," he said softly. "Oh, Nat, please no." A moment ago he had cried his grief for her death--and he had been certain she was dead--but this was infinitely worse. A tiny sliver of his mind pointed out that it was not too late to break her neck and spare her what must otherwise follow; it took no thought at all to know that he would never be able to do so.
She whimpered again, snapping him back into focus. Shoving aside his horror, he quickly dialed the coroner's office. "Hi, Grace, it's Nick Knight." He was surprised at the steadiness of his own voice. "Natalie says she called in sick this morning. The message must have been misplaced...Yeah, she's a little out of it, but I think she's starting to feel better. Sure. Thanks."
Settling the phone back in place, he turned his attention back to Nat. If he waited for hunger to drive her wide awake, she would be in agony before they reached his place; but she was close enough already that if he carried her to the car she would probably awaken en route, and he didn't like the thought of trying to calm her and drive at the same time. The only alternative was to try and awaken her before she was really ready.
"Nat?" Kneeling on the floor beside her, Nick propped her up in a sitting position, brushing unruly curls from her face. "Natalie, can you hear me?"
"Wha--?" Her voice was barely there, but she was responding.
"It's me, it's Nick. You have to wake up now." He took one of her hands, and she squeezed back. "That's right, that's good. Now, stay sitting up for me, can you do that?"
"Think so."
"Okay, good. I'll help you; I won't let you fall. Stay with me now." He was losing her, the hand in his loosening its grip. "Come on, Nat, wake up! Open your eyes and look at me."
She did, blinking several times as he came into focus. "Nick? What're you doing here?"
"One thing at a time. We're going to stand up now, and go sit on the couch for a minute. You ready?"
"Sure." She lurched to her feet without too much assistance, then took a reasonably steady few steps to the couch, where she lapsed into dazed silence.
Nick snatched up an afghan from a nearby chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Hey, stay with me here! Shock is not good, Nat, didn't they teach you anything in medical school? Keep talking. How do you feel?"
She thought a moment. "Thirsty."
"Well, that's no surprise; we'll take care of that as soon as we can. Can you walk out to the car?"
She nodded, but the huge hazel eyes staring at him were still glazed with shock, and she pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders. "Hungry, though."
"I know, Nat. Come on, we're going over to my place."
"Sydney?" She looked around in sudden concern for the cat, who was right beside her on the couch. Sydney's affectionate purring registered on her before she saw him, and a perplexed widening of her eyes told Nick that she also heard the rapid feline heartbeat beneath it.
"He'll be okay until we get back, Nat. Come on."
By the time he pulled the Cadillac into his garage, Natalie was nearly doubled over in pain and Nick was finding it increasingly difficult to act now and think about it later. He had his doubts about whether she would thank him for this when she could think straight again--though she was well aware of what would happen if she tried to go without--but he certainly couldn't stand by and let her suffer. They'd just have to take this mess one step at a time, and any way he looked at it the first step was getting her fed.
"It's all right, Nat," he told her inanely, guiding her to the elevator. "Everything will be all right." It wouldn't, of course, and lying to her hurt as much all the rest. He couldn't recall ever lying to her before. But right now he couldn't tell her the truth: nothing would be all right, not ever again.
It didn't take long to reach their destination, though he doubted she even noticed where she was. The world wouldn't be making much sense to her right now; the unaccustomed acuity of her senses would cause overload until she got used to it, and on top of that her body was shrieking demands her mind couldn't interpret.
Once the bottle was in her hands, though, instinct took over and she gulped it down without hesitation. When it was empty, he gently pried it from her hand and set it on the floor next to the chair, out of her sight.
He knelt by the chair, giving her a moment to pull herself together. "Better?"
"Yeah." She looked around in surprise. "How did we get here?"
Well, she was lucid. Time to face facts. "Natalie," he began, "do you remember what happened when you went home last night?"
She frowned. "Of course. I--" The words stopped abruptly, and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Who was it? Do you have any idea?"
She shook her head, swallowed hard. "But he was waiting for me, Nick. He knew who I was, and he knows you."
He could have guessed that. "I'm sorry. I should never have dragged you into my problems. None of this would have happened if I'd left you alone, stayed in my own world where I belong!"
"Stop it, Nick!" she told him sharply. He looked up at her in surprise; she sat straight and determined, that familiar set expression suddenly in place. "This is not your fault."
"Isn't it? It's never safe for mortals to get close to us, Nat, and I knew that!" He snatched up the bottle and headed for the kitchen as an excuse not to face her. "But I had to be stupid and selfish and make you a target. I have no business having friends."
"Hey, wait a minute here!" He heard her stride up behind him. "I'm your friend because I want to be. It's not like I didn't know it was dangerous; there've been times when you frightened me half to death. But you can't just keep people from caring about you, and risk is part of that no matter who you are." When he gave no response, she grasped his shoulder and spun him around to face her. "Nick, will you at least look at me?"
Then she stopped short--because the jerk she had given him had slammed him against the refrigerator, rattling the bottles inside.
It was several seconds before she found her voice again. "Nick," she said a little shakily, "please tell me you exaggerated that."
He shook his head. "You have to be very careful; it takes time to adjust." He tried to laugh, failed miserably. "Don't try to dust your breakables for a while."
"Right. Sure." Gingerly she put her hands in her pockets.
"If I were mortal," he told her seriously, "the fridge door would probably be bashed in." At her stricken look, he added, "Except that you wouldn't have done it that hard, because you're used to me being stronger."
"Actually, I never think about it much."
"Maybe not, but you're aware of it, and consequently you use more force with me than you would with, say, Schanke. It's unconscious--but now you have to learn to pay attention to it."
"I think I have to learn a lot of things."
"Yeah." There was silence for a moment, neither of them certain what to say. Finally Nick put an arm around her shoulders and steered her back into the living room, saying, "Obviously, trying to take your mind off this is impractical, so I think you'd better tell me exactly what happened to you."
Nat laughed shortly. "I have a feeling I'm going to see that famous temper of yours blow sky-high."
"It's already blown." His voice remained calm, but now she seemed to recognize the cold fury that had been in his eyes the entire time. "I have never, in almost eight hundred years, been angrier than I am tonight. But that doesn't do you any good. What will do you good is to confront what happened, what was said, what you thought. And when you're finished..." He paused, remembering what he had felt when what he had become really sank in. "When you're finished, either you'll be ready to deal with this...or else I'll be the one pulling you away from the window come morning."