Hunters of the Night

by Misty Pendragon

Written by Misty Pendragon and Yvette Ciancio

Hunters of the Knight

By Misty Pendragon and Yvette Ciancio

Thomas Maverick was ready to leave when he received a frantic call from his partner, Derek. He was worried; he had witnessed a vampire kill someone, and feared that it would track him down. He needed his help. As Maverick tried to calm him, he suddenly heard the sound of shattering glass and the terrified scream of his ambushed partner, Maverick dropped the phone immediately and rushed down the hall to Derek's apartment. He kicked open the door and ran in to find nothing but a broken balcony window and a few overturned pieces of furniture.

Derek was gone.

Maverick cursed himself for his stupidity. He shook his head solemnly, raking his hand through his graying hair and pulling it out slowly as he took a cleansing breath. "I've lost another one", he lamented. "I will not let this happen again. I will take care of this, once and for all!" he vowed through clenched teeth, and silently strode out of his former partner's dwelling.

It was another typical night at the precient ; the same prostitutes being brought in, Schanke complaining about Myra, the Captain being in a bad mood. For the first time in his career, Nick was bored. If it weren't for the phone call, he might have actually gotten some sleep.

A body had been found in a alley around eleven with symptoms all too familiar to Nick: two marks at the neck, and the body drained of blood. Nick shook his head worriedly as he watched a patrol leave the precinct to investigate. Not again, he thought, the victim was just a child. It has to be Lacroix. Nick knew what he had to do and who he had to see.

Janette.

He decided that there was no reason for him to remain at his desk; Schanke could handle the processing of the lycra-clad call girls. It might even get his mind of Myra for a while, he mused. There was about six hours before sunrise, so he knew Janette would still be available.

As Lacroix lingered down the abandoned alley, he was overcome with a sense of accomplishment. He had succeeded in finding someone new to teach and nurture, a boy that would appreciate what he was and understand the glory of being immortal, much unlike that whining mortal-lover, Nicholas. He wanted Derek by his side when he and the Enforcers brought down the hinted Thomas Maverick. Derek had been the faithful assistant, sacrificing much of his childhood for a cause he couldn't fully comprehend at first. With Derek's help, they would finally be rid of the last hunter. Lacroix knew that Derek's knowledge of Maverick's tactics and habits would be useful.

He figured that a boy robbed of his childhood would want to avenge himself against the person who took it without any consideration towards the boy.

He had taken Derek from his apartment, making an uncharacteristic scene, for he knew that Derek was contacting his mentor, babbling on about being stalked by a vampire. Lacroix smirked at the irony; he had indeed been stalking the boy, and it was pure coincidence that the boy's fears played right into Lacroix's hands. He took the boy to an alley, and despite the fierce struggle, brought the boy across. If it weren't for a car passing by spotting him holding Derek's lifeless body, he would have been able to take Derek back to his loft and be there for him when he opened his newly-immortal eyes. The car stopped, though, and the driver and passenger raced out to spot what they thought to be a crime in progress. He had no choice but to depart the scene, and return for Derek later.

He returned to the alley to find Derek gone, the spot where he lay cordoned off by plastic police tape. Lacroix knew where he would be, and he knew who would be getting the shock of her life.

The body arrived at the morgue for Dr. Natalie Lambert, waiting more than patiently for her to begin her routine. The still body bag posed no threat to her; she dealt with tons of them a day. She stretched on a pair of gloves and unzipped the bag slowly. She pulled back the stiff plastic to reveal a child, no, a teenager with marks at his neck that she had seen numerous times before. The angelic face was untouched and peaceful, until the eyelids suddenly popped open revealing and otherworldly greenish color and the previously deceased body sat up.

"Oh, my God, not again!" Natalie screamed. She backed away as the boy with the angelic face growled and bared a perfect pair of gleaming white fangs, eyeing her as if she were the last caribou in Ethiopia. This one isn't as friendly as the last one I dealt with, she thought, remembering her very first encounter with Nick. As she banged into a gurney, the vampire boy scrambled out of the bag and jumped onto the floor. Natalie knew that it would probably be a good time to run.

She ran, slamming doors behind her, only to hear them being kicked back open. She tried to think of places to hide; she very well couldn't run upstairs and say "Help, There's a vampire after me!" Her mind focused on the layout of the morgue, and an idea popped into her panicked mind: the cold storage room, where the bodies were. She hoped that if he followed her there, he would realize that it held nothing of interest to him. Vampires hated dead people.

Natalie quickly pulled out one of the empty drawers and hopped onto the extremely cold slate. She grabbed onto the inside top of the drawer's opening and pulled the drawer in, leaving it open a few inches, or else she would be locked





inside until one of her associates would open the drawer to place a body in it, only to find it already occupied.

She waited nervously, warming her face with the steam from her breath, until she heard the door bang against the wall. Don't let him find me, please don't let him look in here, she begged silently. A few more tense moments passed, and Natalie heard a low growl approaching. Her heart was beating a million times a minute; she couldn't help it. He hears my heart, she thought and began to shake, a combination of fear and the biting cold.

Just as the growling was nearing the drawer, it stopped, and Natalie heard footsteps running out of the room. She wanted to wait, thinking that he could be trying to trick her, but she couldn't take the cold anymore. She forced her frozen fingertips through the open crack, and pushed with all her strength. The air, warmer only by a few degrees, greeted her in a rush of steam produced by her labored breathing. Another minute in there, she thought, sitting up, and I really would have been dead. At least I would have been in the right place.

Nick walked casually into the Raven, Janette's place and a kind of sanctuary for vampires. As usual, she was very happy to see him.

"Janette, Lacroix is up to his old tricks," Nick said bluntly, even before he approached the dark-haired proprietess, who stood behind the bar next to a pale bartender cleaning glasses.

"Yes, I've been meaning to talk to you about that, but I haven't seen much of you lately, Nicola," Janette said, smoothly wanting to make Nick feel a little bit guilty. She placed a kiss on his cheek as he sat on a stool in front of her. The bartender placed a glass filled with a deep crimson liquid in front of him. Nick waved it away immediately. Janette took it from him, and began to dip her finger into the liquid, pulling it out seductively licking her finger dry, Nick tried his best to ignore her and stick to the matter at hand. "He's attacked someone in a attempt to bring him across. No doubt he's wanting a new companion. We can't let the Enforcers get wind of it."

"Maybe they should get wind of it" Janette said. "We can't have him polluting the street with his little whelps. If he has gone and brought someone across, someone should stop him."

"Someone like me?" Nick lilted.

"Well, now that you mention it..."

He took her hand and kissed the outside of her palm. "Good night Janette".



Maverick wanted to start to prepare for the next hunt, but since he had no idea where to start, he thought it a waste of time. He was still inconsolable over the loss of Derek, but he knew that it was a hazard of the job; that someday, something like that could happen.

As he prepared for bed, he decided that he'd go to the police department on the morning, fill out a fake missing persons report, then try to track someone down in the morgue. It was a long shot, but he had to go on. He reached into his bag that he always kept by his bedside, and pulled out a string of garlic heads. He placed it in his nighttable for protection; it had always worked for him. He only wished it had worked for Derek.

As Nick looked out into the night, he sensed another vampire presense out there, watching him, waiting for him. He wanted to remain therem to get a better feel for the presense and where it could have been emanating from. Instead, he felt the fear of someone close to him, the panicked heartbeats of someone in terrible trouble.

Natalie.

He took to the sky, and within seconds, entered the morgue unnoticed. He found Natalie sitting on a cold slab in her freezer room swinging her feet over the side. She looked frazzled, but unharmed.

1 "Nat, are you okay?" He questioned in a concerned tone. "What happened?"

"Nick, I saw another vampire," She said, her voice shaking as well as her body. "He did the same thing to me as you did, and he g-got up from the examining t-t-t-table and chased me." She rubbed her cold hands along her colder arms in a feeble attempt to warm herself. Nick whipped off his trenchcoat and wrapped it around her, steadying her as she pushed herself off the drawer.

2 "What did he look like?"

Natalie grabbed the lapels of Nick's coat and tried to bring it up to her forehead, anything to get warm. "He was young, m-m-maybe seventeen, eighteen. tops."

It was the DOA from earlier; Nick tried to work a timeframe in his mind as to how long it would take for a body to be drained of blood, and then reanimate with the soul, or lack thereof, of a vampire. A young boy, a quick transition period - this definitely smelled of Lacroix.

"D-d-do you know who did this, Nick?" Natalie asked.

Nick paused. "I can't say for sure but I think I have an idea."



Waking inside a body bag was not something Derek had ever planned to do, so when he found himself in the morgue, he was naturally worried. It didn't take him long to figure out why he was there, and what had happened to him; once he opened his eyes and saw the woman there, he knew what he was: a vampire. The instantaneous feeling of hunger pulsated through him; he had never wanted anything so badly in his life as to tear open the veins in her neck and drink, but she managed to get away from him. He didn't want to waste time chasing her down; the immortal part of him needed to be nourished, soon. He fled, hoping to find easier prey. Everything looked and felt so different; it was as if he had been encased in a glass dome, observing things and remaining safe. Now the dome had been lifted, and he was free to experience what he had been shielded from.

When he left the morgue, instinct made him take to the sky. The fear of being caught gave him the impetus to fly, and Derek could not believe the feeling. The chilled air gusted by him as he watched buildings fly by, the cars and people below mere specks from his point of view. This is incredible! he thought joyously. He had seen other vampires fly, but never thought it would feel so wonderful. He flew for nearly an hour before he began to feel small, sharp pains. He knew what his body was telling him, so he eased himself down in search for food.

He paid a visit to the Raven, the bar that served as a vampire refuge. Maverick had made mention of it on more than one occasion, but had never taken Derek there personally. While under Maverick's tutelage, he wasn't permitted to do the normal things boys could do; he never rode a bike, he never was allowed to date - all because he was chosen to succeed Maverick as a vampire hunter.

His parents, the uncaring parasites they were, had sold him to Maverick as a slave. Being only ten, he couldn't understand why Mommy and Daddy were giving him to this man, who was, at first, very frightening. He had a wicked look in his eyes, just like the weird people he would see in his bad dreams, though he didn't have pointy teeth. On the other hand, his parents weren't treating him very nice anymore; Daddy drank and yelled a lot mostly at his mother, but sometimes at both of them. Then he would start to hit both of them. His mother was passive accepting the punishment that was doled onto her night after night. When his father left for work on the mornings that his hangovers weren't too bad, his mother would try to act as if nothing had happened, piling layers of makeup on the bruises that marked her face like a piece of damaged fruit. She would walk him to school, holding his hand, humming softly and letting Derek try to identify the song. Soon, she changed, also; she started to yell at him just as much as his father did, and she started to smell like him, too. Sometimes, she wouldn't wake up to take him to school, so he was late a lot. When she did take him, she would walk with him in her nightgown, with a flimsy bathrobe her only cover. No makeup to hide her face, no more songs. It was then that Derek realized that something had to happen, either to them, or to him.



The day that Maverick came to their house, Derek was off in his room, building a house with a old set of Lincoln Logs; he didn't have any long logs left, so his house had big windows. He heard someone come in, and began talking to his parents. He didn't want to listen in on what they were saying; too many people came to the house, and when they left, his parents would start yelling at each other. Soon , he was called out to the living room. The man who wore a long, black coat stood behind the couch as his mother calmly told Derek that he was going to stay with the man for a while, that he was going to show him things that no other boys could do. Derek turned to his father, who was seated at the kitchen table counting something. His mother excused herself to begin packing Derek's clothes and Maverick took a few steps toward Derek, very slowly as not to scare him. Derek was too stunned to move; he didn't know what to say.

Maverick crouched down to come face to face with Derek. "Hello, Derek," he said sounding like Mr. Rogers. "My name is Thomas Maverick. You can call me Maverick."

Derek was overcome with the desire to run, but he was more afraid of what his parents would do to him than this man. He remained silent.

"I know you're probably wondering why I've come for you," Maverick continued, his voice steady. "I've come to take you from this and show you things you've never imagined before. We're going to go to places far from here, see things only special people are allowed to see." He moved a few inches closer to Derek, and whispered into his ear, "Places where people don't hit little children."

Derek's mother emerged from his room, holding a small suitcase. She handed it to Maverick, and gave Derek a hug that almost squeezed the air out of him.

"Mommy," he whined, "I don't want to go!"

"You go with the man, he'll take good care of you," she told him, wiping her eyes with her wrist. "You stay for a while, and he'll bring you back."

"Promise?"

His mother nodded. "Yes. Promise. Now off with you."

Derek's father never said good-bye; he was too busy with whatever he was doing at the table. Derek didn't really care. He took Maverick's hand, and left his childhood home forever.

Maverick was right: they did see places no one else did. Or would want to for that matter. Derek soon learned what he was expected of him, and when he encountered his first vampire, he realized why he was picked. These were the things from his nightmares. Maverick chose him because he had seen these things in his dreams. But how did Maverick know about his dreams? Could he read his mind? Derek never questioned this; he accepted it as if it were meant to be.

Derek had become the very thing that he and Maverick hunted. All of Maverick teaching were still intact, but he was on the other side of the door, and Maverick was wrong; being a vampire wasn't so bad. In fact, he could very well adjust to being immortal.

The one thing he wanted to do, more than anything, was to be with a woman. Hell, why stop at one ? he thought with confidence. I can have as many as I want. The only thing that differentiated him from a normal young man seeking companionship was that some of the women might end up as dinner. He had no choice; he had to feed. Not every one he fed on needed to die; he had seen many who had been drained to the point of death, but left alive with no memory of the attack. Derek could rely on his vast knowledge of the ways and practices of vampires to keep himself content.

As he strolled through the crowd of gothic-attired patrons who swayed to the ear-splitting music, he spotted the most exquisite woman he had ever seen; a flame-haired beauty with sapphire eyes and ivory skin. The black crunched velvet dress she wore proudly displayed her ample assets, and she sat alone at the bar, sipping something out of a tall, thin glass.

He had to have her. He would not leave the Raven without her.

Derek smoothed his blond hair with his hand, hoping that it looked allright, no more mirrors for him. The woman scanned the room and finally set her gaze upon Derek. Their eyes locked. He immediately sensed that she was mortal, probably one of those vampire lovers Maverick told him about, the ones who pretend to be what they would not ever wish to become. Derek decided that she would be his first, and he would bring her across to spend eternity together.

Nick returned to the Raven, knowing full well that all the vampires, even the new ones, ended up there at some point during the night. Upon entering, he spotted him; he resembled Lacroix, with the blond hair and intense look, but was much younger with sharper figures. He was walking out with a red-haired woman in tow. She was a mortal, and Nick knew how it would end, how it always ended.

The cop part of him wanted to follow, but the vampire part knew of the hunger. As a cop, there was nothing he could do, but as a vampire, he could give him a warning. Nick briefly thought about that, then began thinking of the repercussions that would have, mainly the wraith of Lacroix. The elder vampire hadn't paid Nick a visit in a long time , and Nick was getting very accustomed to the peace and quiet. He reluctantly decided that he would keep a watchful eye on him, but stay out of the way.



Nick looked for Janette, who wasn't hard to find; she had changed her dress from a few hours ago. Her new frock was almost as ostentatious as the last, but there was only so much that can be done with black lace. She spotted Nick, and slinked over to him planting her usual kiss on his cheek.

"Twice in one night, Nicola. I'm not sure if I should be happy or concerned," she purred.

"Did you see that blond boy? He left with a red-haired girl."

Janette registered his question with a studious glare. "Yes?"

"He's Lacroix's newest initiate"

Janette sighed. "I thought so. He gave me that same sick chill that Lacroix used to give me. Why he would want to make a protégé now is beyond me. He hasn't had much luck with keeping his students in line." she said with a wink.

Nick ignored her intentional reference. "Any protégé of Lacroix's should be watched over carefully, as you should know firsthand yourself." he retorted.

"Touché, Nicola," Janette said, flashing a whimsical smile. "As for keeping an eye on that one, I think I'll pass. I don't want to involve myself with Lacroix any more than I have to. In fact, I would rather forget the whole thing."

"Even if it leads to a murder?"

"You saw the girl yourself. Did she look as though she was being pulled? Did she resist? Nick, let the boy have a snack," she pleaded half-heartedly. "He knows the rules."

Nick frowned. "Knowing them and following are two different things. If he's new, he might want to test his limits. He might lose control."

"So you're going to follow him, am I right?"

Nick smiled mischievously, and left.

"Don't be suprised if he's not happy to see you," Janette called out to him. She shook her head as he disappeared from the Raven. "I know I wouldn't be."

Derek sat in the passenger seat of Kathy's car. Upon leaving the Raven, she asked him if he would care to go to her apartment. He didn't object. Derek was happy that she was so forward; it made his job much easier. He did want to try out the powers of persuasion vampires possessed, but Kathy was so damn obliging, he didn't need to. He couldn't wait to get to her place; the hunger inside was driving him mad, and taking all of his will power not to make her stop the car and take her on the side of the road.

A few minutes later, they reached Kathy's apartment. She parked her car in front of the building, and Derek bounded out first, running to the other side to open her door. She blushed at his act of chivalry. "Not many guys I date do that," she commented, stepping out and taking Derek's hand.



"I'm different from other guys," Derek said with honesty.

They entered her apartment, a modest place filled with a framed poster of sunflowers, lace curtains, and a small collection of teddy bears that were situated against the pillows on her chenille bedspread. Derek was a bit taken aback at the surroundings; everything was so cutesy-wutesy, not what he expected. He really didn't know what to expect, but teddy bears certainly were not part of the mental picture.

Kathy closed the door and threw her keys down on the small table by the door. She turned to Derek with a look that screamed "I'm ready". Derek had been more than ready for close to an hour. He took three steps toward her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard. She was only the second person he had kissed in his entire life; the first was a girl in Budapest crush on him when he was thirteen. He didn't like it then, but he was enjoying this now.

Kathy's hands roamed his body, pulling his shirt from his pants, nearly pulling it over his head. Her tongue had pushed past his lips and was exploring his mouth. His fangs had not lowered, although it wouldn't be long before they did. He tore his lips from hers, and just gazed at her, enraptured by her beauty. Slowly, his hands moved along her shoulders to the inside of her dress. He gently pulled the dress off, letting it slide off her lithe figure. She was bare underneath. Kathy's chest was heaving with anticipation; she wanted him to do something, anything.

Although Derek was enjoying this, the hunger nagged at him like a glass shard wedged in his throat. He had to feed. Now.

He began kissing her throat, causing Kathy to make soft moaning sounds. Her hard nipples felt like marbles on his chest. "Oh, God, Derek," she begged. "Do it. Do it now!"

There it was. He had her permission.

He lifted his head and let the fangs lower, ready to pierce the delicate vein that lay beneath the thin veil of skin. With one hand at the small of her back and the other behind her head, he plunged his fangs into her neck and drank deeply.

The ecstasy that flowed through his mouth in the form of hot, sanguid sustenance was more intoxing than any sexual dalliance that he could, or would, ever encounter. As every drop of Kathy's blood became his, he felt the overdriving need to have more. He could feel her body writhe in his tight grip her heartbeat tripling as it fought against the sudden extraction of the life-giving liquid. She did not matter anymore; the only thing that mattered was his thirst, and it was not yet quenched. He drank until he felt nothing more come from her vein. she was completely dry. And completely dead.



Derek released his grip, and Kathy's drained body fell to the floor with a soft thump. He breathed heavily and wiped his lips with his wrist. A faint smudge of blood stained it, and he feverishly licked it. He felt sated. Powerful. And sad.

He glanced down at Kathy, whose bloodless body lay at his feet, She was to be like him, to be at his side for all time. But he realized that he took too much, he went too far. In the mad haze of hunger, Derek quickly forgot that restraint was the most important thing to remember. But he couldn't help himself. Because of it, Kathy was gone.

Derek let out a raging yell that echoed through the apartment. "This can't happen!" he screamed. "I wanted her so badly!" He didn't mean to end her life without enjoying her company first. He scooped her into his arms and lifted her off the floor, unbounded tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. He had to get rid of her body, but how?

He carried her over to the bed, laying her on the crisp white bedspread. He threw the bears off, and wrapped it around her like a shroud. He threw her over his shoulder and exited the apartment taking her keys on the way out.

Derek drove quickly to the riverbank; dawn was less than an hour away. he took Kathy's body from the trunk and threw it into the river. It sank under the murky water with a splash then bobbed back to the surface for a tense minute before being claimed by the river's depths and disappearing.

A tinge of remorse feathered the inside of Derek's chest as he came to the stark realization of what he had done. For a whole decade, he helped Maverick avoid the very act he had just taken part of. He had killed viciously, selfishly, and surprisingly, wasn't too upset. The feeling of remorse was slowly being replaced by a sense of right; he needed her blood, and she willingly gave it, whether she knew it or not. It felt so good, too; Kathy's blood soothed the pain of his starved veins, quelched the fierce hunger and fully energized him.

Derek found that he was still hungry, even after draining Kathy. He wanted to search for another compliant woman, but the sun was due to rise in less than an hour. He had to find somewhere to sleep, somewhere dark and secluded. He scanned the waters one last time, making sure that the body wasn't going to surface again. After the final check, he blew a kiss to Kathy in her watery grave. "Good-bye, Kathy," he said, walking away. "Thanks for dinner." Derek took to the air and was gone.

Nick stood behind a pier about a hundred feet away. Apparently, he thought, this one's senses have not fully developed, or he would have known I was here He witnessed the disposal of the fledgling's victim, and would call it in right before he ended his shift and returned home. That would give investigators time to document the crime, and also give Natalie the opportunity to do an autopsy, although the cause of death would be obvious to her. He would have to call her and assure her that the body was not going

to rise up like the last one did. Nick also wanted to let her knew that if anyone came asking about this boy, be it a relative or friend, that she should lead them away from revealing what really happened. She was a very good actress when she put her mind to it.

Natalie finished the autopsy on the young female that she brought in during the early morning . Thankfully, Nick warned her what to expect. The woman, one Katherine Andrews, was completely drained of blood, but for her sake, she listed the cause of death as accidental drowning. The fact that her car was parked at the crime scene would give her reason to suspect suicide, and she would've done so, if it weren't for those marks on her neck. Nick told her what he witnessed; Natalie's would be attacker decided to search for some take-out, and when he had his fill, he dumped her in the river.

She asked one of her attendants to return the body to the cold storage room as she took off her smock and draped it over the swivel chair at her desk. She sipped at her coffee, which was still slightly warm from before the autopsy. A knock at her door startled her, and she turned to see a man standing at the door. He looked to be around 40, possibly older, with long grayish hair and deep, blue eyes. He was tall and wore a long trenchcoat that brushed the tips of his leather boots. So this is what Lorenzo Lamas will look like in a few years, she thought. "Can I help you? "

"My name is Thomas Maverick," he said extending his hand as he entered. "I'm looking for my nephew. I filled out a missing person's report, and the lieutenant upstairs told me to stop down here, that you've had some recent ...additions."

Natalie's sensors went bonkers. This is the guy Nick warned me about, she told herself. I'd better be convincing.

"Well, Mr. Maverick," she started, placing her mug on the desk to shake his hand, "the only recent addition I've had is a woman who threw herself into the river. She'd have to be your niece."

"Have you had any male corpses come through here in the past day or so?"

What, besides the one that chased me through my own morgue and tried to freeze me to death? "No, I'm sorry. Not since last week." she cleared her throat and leaned against her desk. "It seems that you're not too optimistic about your nephew. I don't get many visitors down here; people who do come here are usually expected to identify someone. They don't come here asking, have you seen my son ? , or something like that." She narrowed her eyes and wondered what he was really after. "Have you checked the hospitals ?"

Maverick nodded. "Yes, it was the first thing I did."

"Then what makes you so sure that he's dead?"

"My nephew and I were." Maverick stopped and corrected himself. "are very close. He's been with me ever since his parents died. We have this...connection. I guess. I just have a bad feeling that he's in grave danger."

"I take it the pun wasn't intentional," Natalie joked.

Maverick didn't flinch.

"Sorry, just a little morgue humor." Nice going, Lambert, she chided. "Well, I don't think I can be of much help, Mr. Maverick. The only thing I would suggest is to keep close to your phone, in case the police find anything. Maybe your nephew's going through a rough time with something, and wants to be by himself for a while."

"If there was something bothering him," Maverick said, trying to sound like the grieving relative, "I think I would be the first to know."

"Kids these days are hard to figure out, especially young ones, you know, nineteen, twenty. They think they can handle anything, and when things go slightly wrong, they do what they think is best." Natalie tried to sound like one of those phone-in psychiatrists she would sometimes tune into late at night, just to hear other people's problems that made her problems sound terribly dull. "Most of the times that's the worst thing they could do."

"How did you know how old my nephew was?" Maverick asked slowly. "I don't remember mentioning his age."

Uh-oh. "I..just assumed that he would be around that age. That's the age when problems like these start. I've seen plenty of young men through here who can't handle their problems and take the easy way out."

She was lying, Maverick sensed. He was sure of it. He also knew that there was no other information that she could, or would, tell him. "Yes, well I'm positive my nephew didn't kill himself." he shook her hand again. "I do thank you for your time."

"No problem," Natalie replied. "I hope you find him before I do."

Maverick smiled. "I'm pretty sure I will."

The noonday sun kept Maverick's quarry at bay, and enabled him to stock up on much needed supplies. He would hunt tonight; his contact had given him a tip, advising him to go to the Raven. Maverick knew the place very well, and hoped that there was no one there who would remember his last visit. It was a nesting ground for vampires, and he hoped he would find Derek there.

For the next few hours, Maverick gathered his supplies; picking up some holy water at the local church, stopping at a hardware store, and walking through a wooded area on the towns outskirts, picking up pieces of wood he would be able to carve into deadly stakes. With his tasks completed, he returned home and began to prepare for the night's hunt.



When Derek opened his eyes, he was disoriented; he had no idea where he was, or how he had gotten there. He was lying down inside something, and a stream of light shafted through a crack, making him squint. Thankfully, it wasn't sunlight.

A coffin. I'm in a coffin, he concluded. But how did I get here?

He pushed the lid open and sat up, his bones creaking and snapping with the sudden movement. His surroundings were straight out of a costume drama: tapestries hung loosely from the ceilings, covering large patches of bare walls; ornate candelabras sat upon antique tables or stood on their own in corners, the candlelight blanketing the room with a soft, relaxing glow; furniture in bold patterns filled the room, and in a far corner stood a marble podium with the Grecian bust of a young girl, prominently displayed with the proper lighting. Who could have brought him here?

"Is there something troubling you, Derek?" a silken voice asked.

Derek turned his head to see a man saunter like a stalking cat into the windowless room, clad in a black suit with a high collar. It almost looked as if he were gliding. "N-n-no," Derek stammered. "Nothing's wrong."

Lacroix came to Derek, and helped him out of the coffin. "I can sense that you have many questions. Let's start off with the most obvious: my name is Lacroix, and I am the one responsible for your current state of being."

"You made me a vampire?" Derek asked, his voice rising. "Why?"

"I've known of you for some time," Lacroix said. "I've also known how unhappy you've been. I thought that bringing you across would open your eyes to all you've been missing."

"What gave you the right to decide that for me?"

Lacroix shrugged. "I thought I was doing you a favor. It's not as if other people haven't made decisions for you before." He walked to the coffin and extended one hand. Derek took his hand , and used it to sturdy himself as he rose from the coffin. "You slept well, I take it.

Derek nodded as his wobbly legs made contact with the floor and reached to take the glass. "Yes. Like the-." He stopped the sentence short.

"Good." Lacroix brushed off Derek's shoulders and smoothed out the wrinkles in his jacket. "I will supply you with some new clothing for your next venture. And I offer my home to you; you are free to come and go as you please. I ask for nothing in return just yet, but you do have knowledge that I may have use for. Now, before you go out, I want to know about last night. You fed well, yes?"

Derek smiled sheepishly. He felt as if he was discussing his first date.



.

"I met someone at The Raven, and she invited me to her place."

"That's good," Lacroix said in a pleased tone. "Pray, continue."

"Well, we started kissing, and it was getting real hard to control myself."

Lacroix paused. "And?"

Derek stared at the floor, suddenly ashamed. "I...um...killed her."

"And you feel bad about this?"

"I didn't mean to!" Derek said, the guilt from the night before resurfacing. "I wanted her so much! She was beautiful, and I thought I could make her like me, but...but I couldn't stop. I just took everything from her until there was nothing left."

"A beginner's mistake," Lacroix reassured him. "Nothing to go on half-cocked about. The fact is you found your first meal on your own. That's extraordinary! Once you have more feedings, you'll be able to practice more, and you'll have yourself a mate before you know it."

"How do you do it?" Derek asked. "Killing, I mean."

"Dear Derek," Lacroix cooed, "Once you understand that it's a part of your life now, it will become nothing more than an afterthought. Practice, my boy. Practice makes perfect. You'll see." He patted Derek on the back like a football coach. "I want you to know something, my boy. Did anyone see you? Or did you feel anyone watching you?"

Derek was silent for a moment. "There was no one around, from what I remember. And I couldn't sense anyone, at least I don't think I did."

"That's all right," Lacroix said. "You're still young, your senses haven't fully awakened just yet. But they will. Be patient.

"Now I bet that you're starving. You'll find that one meal won't be enough. And a word of advise: it's not necessary to have one big meal; snacks are the key. Little snacks here and there will be more than sufficient for you, at least until your body gets used to the change. When it does," Lacroix spread his arms out wide "The world will be a smorgasbord."

Nick checked the day's messages as he drank his supplement. There were no phone calls that demanded his immediate attention. One call that did interest him came in close to lunchtime. He had a good idea who the caller would be.

"Hey, Nick, it's Nat. Boy, were you right about someone coming to look for that kid. It was weird; he said he was looking for his nephew. I could see through him like he was a glass plate. Nephew, my Aunt Matilda. I almost slipped up, but I don't



think he caught it. I think I covered myself pretty well. This guy was a snappy dresser, too; long coat, all black, sounds like someone I know. Anyway, his name was Thomas Maverick. I don't know if that rings a bell or anything. Oh, one more thing: I listed the Andrews girl as an accidental drowning. I couldn't put down suicide; it just wouldn't feel right. Okay, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

As the message ended, Nick pushed the off button and took a deep breath. The name Maverick did ring a bell. Many bells, in fact. Church bells....

....that rang far in the distance as the blackened remains of a body were found in a torch-lit clearing. Nicholas knew, by the wooden stake protruding from the abdominal region, who had found the poor soul first: Robert Maverick. England's finest vampire hunter.

Damn his contemptuous soul! Nicholas fumed. Who has given him the right to hunt us? Why should he waste his time chasing us when he could easily capture bastards who murder for no reason and send their damnable souls to Hell!

The reasoning of the human condition was something that Nicholas troubled himself with more often than not, driving Lacroix and Janette crazy. Time after time, he pondered what they considered to be the sustaining of the immortal ideal. He had lengthy discussions that left Lacroix frustrated and Nicholas confused. Was it possible that, after two hundred and some odd years, that he was regaining some of his mortality?

Nicholas sat back on his heels as he contemplated what to do about the remains of a fellow vampire. He gently lifted the stake from the pile of ashes and tossed it aside. There was not much he could do, except leave it there and let the elements take care of him, her, whatever.

Suddenly, Nicholas stood quickly, sensing someone nearby. He turned ever so slowly, his eyes taking on their greenish glow, fangs ready to be bared. He stared into the fire-dimmed darkness and saw nothing. Heard nothing. But sensed something.

Nicholas brushed his dusty hands on his brown breeches. Whoever, whatever, there was beyond his sight was playing a waiting game, much like he was himself. Both parties were patiently anticipating each other's next move. Nicholas knew he could end it right then and there, just lift himself into the air and close in on whatever stalked him. He hesitated, though; he was quite enjoying the hunt.

The hunt...

HUNTER!

Nicholas spun around as the snap of a crossbow crackled like lightning through the empty air. The flying arrow missed Nicholas, and as the hunter reached behind him for a fresh arrow, Nicholas swooped on top of the man, grabbed him by the neck, and slammed him up against an oak tree.

"A convient trap, Maverick," Nicholas growled, displaying his fangs for effect.

"Pity it failed."

Robert Maverick breathed heavily in the face of the demon that wore human form, and wrestled under his grip. "I don't fear you or your demonkind," He said bravely.

Nicholas smiled, tossing his head aside. "No, I don't doubt that, else you wouldn't be trying to eradicate us every chance you get."

"You prey on the weak and defenseless, all for the unnatural purpose of draining a person's lifeblood from their body!" Maverick shouted. "Tis a travesty of nature that you should even walk the Earth!"

"Nay, Maverick," Nicholas added, "the only travesty is the one that you yourself commit. Tell me, have you ever been officially appointed as a hunter of the undead? Or was it something in the way of a career change?"

"I do this not as a career, fiend," Maverick responded, the words coming out strangled and dry, "but as a service to God and the people."

"So you want to become a politician," Nicholas eased his grip on the hunter's neck. He might actually have an interesting conversation with this one. "Or a hero, at least."

"There is no glory in this. Only the satisfaction of seeing creatures like you and your companions pay for the countless deaths you have caused." Maverick rubbed his neck as the vampire's hand released its hold.

"You know of my companions?" Nicholas arched his eyebrows in mock suprise.

"Aye, I've tracked you ever since you came to England, not too long ago."

This suprised Nicholas. "Have you, know? Then you must be very good at what you do, indeed."

"I intend to show you the full extent of my skills, vampire. It will be the last thing you ever see!" Maverick reached behind his back and pulled out a stake he had hidden underneath his jerkin. With a quick movement, he thrust it towards Nicholas, who shifted slightly and avoided the death blow to the heart. The stake pierced his shoulder, causing a yell to escape Nicholas' lips. He threw Maverick to



the ground in a rage, and pulled out the stake with a swift yank, throwing it angrily to the ground.

The sudden pain produced small bits of light which formed on the inside of Nicholas' eyelids. "That was foolish, hunter," he said through clenched teeth. "Although I admire your tenacity."

Where is Miles, that fool! Maverick thought, panicked. "If you plan to kill me, I pray, make it quick."

Nicholas laughed. "Oh, I assure you, it would be quick." He gingerly touched the wound on his shoulder, which was already beginning to close by itself. "I have no intention of killing you though. Not yet."

Maverick stared at him puzzled. "I don't understand." If he were here, I would be able to finish this here and now!

"Nor do I," Nicholas replied. "perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I rather enjoy this little sport. It could also be that I'm just not hungry. What matters, my good man, is that I've come up with a proposition: you say you've tracked us since our arrival. That's all well and good; being the hunted instead of the hunter is quite a change. But what I offer is sanctuary, from myself and my companions, at least."

"I am not sure I follow your meaning," Maverick shifted to a more comfortable position.

"What I am saying is that if you swear to cease this pointless hunt against us, I will grant you your life. Leave us alone, and I will make sure the same is done to you."

"But what about the others?" Maverick asked incredulously. "What gives you the right to condemn your race, just for the sake of saving yourself?"

"The same sense of righteousness that made you appoint yourself sole protector of the human race." Nicholas paced around Maverick like a vulture would do to a dying animal. "I am making you work harder at your task. I have a feeling that if you persevere, you will do much harm to my race. You are strong-willed, determined and brave; qualities that we hate. Because of that, I would rather not lay eyes upon you again.

"Know this, hunter," Nicholas knelt beside Maverick, bringing his face so close to the hunter's that he could see the steady flow of blood in his pulsating vein, "if any of your kind pursue me or my companions, I will not hesitate to show you how grave a mistake you would be making. And I would do to you would be a pittance as to what they would do."



Maverick was silent. In all the vampires he had dealt with, never had he met one with restraint, one who gave him a choice. There was a part of him who could not decide to take the offer. Could he trust this one? he questioned himself. He could not be completely sure.

"Of course," Nicholas continued, "I could forget of our deal and rip your throat out right now." He offered his hand to Maverick. It's your decision."

May the Lord forgive me, Maverick pleaded silently. "I accept your offer." he took Nicholas' hand and was pulled to his feet.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Nicholas smiled normally. "I must say, you're a lucky man to have encountered me rather than my companions. They are not as lenient with hunters."

"By what name shall I know you by?" Maverick asked. "I would want to remember your name so I can let my son know. I am training him to be a hunter like myself."

"A family line. How noble." Nicholas began to walk away, trying to decide how he was going to explain this to Lacroix and Janette. "My name is Nicholas. Do not forget it." He took to the air, leaving the hunter alone in the ring of light.

Nick downed his drink and refilled the glass to the top. He remembered Maverick--Robert Maverick, that is--all too well. He was one of the first people to see Nick for what he was becoming; something closely resembling human.

Now his offspring is looking for Lacroix's little plaything. Nick wondered what part the hunter played in this melodrama, and why it was imperative that he find the boy. He didn't want to pay Lacroix a visit; he'd surely think that Nick would be there to arrest his protégé. The new ones were always unpredictable, and Nick didn't want to incense him by angering Lacroix, however easy that was.

He had two choices; find the boy, or find the hunter. Nick had a bad feeling that he would fail in both missions, and that the boy and the hunter would find each other. Nick knew that such a meeting would end only one way.

Someone would die.

Maverick briefly considered stopping by the Raven, knowing that there was a good chance he would find Derek there, but the thought of possibly being recognized by someone was a powerful deterrent. No, he would start walking the streets, using his keen sense of insight that was sharply honed through years of use. He had a feeling that he would find Derek tonight, and that he would have to be prepared to possibly end his companion's life.



It was an hour after sundown, and Maverick left a downtown luncheonette after a quick meal, heaving the worn knapsack over his shoulder and throwing a few dollars onto the beige formica counter. He walked briskly out of the eatery, head held high and back pole straight to counter the weight of the knapsack. All eyes were upon him as he left; he was used to being stared at. It was one of the job's downsides; having people gawk and whisper, wondering if he were a criminal on the run, or if they had seen his face on a TV show depicting wanted men. He didn't care. There were times when Maverick wanted to drop his knapsack and tell the people what he did, show them the stakes and the assortment of crosses, explain the existence of vampires and how they were real and walked among them every night without them even knowing it. Maverick wished that the truth was easy to convey, and that the people would believe it so easily, as it was for his ancestors. Times were different, though; people weren't as gullible and afraid as they were when his forebearers lived and first began hunting vampires. He knew that if he spoke openly about vampires, he would be locked inside the deepest cell of the nearest asylum for a long time. It had happened to his grandfather. His father, who was only fifteen, had to teach himself using his father's notes. His inexperience cost many lives at first, but as every Maverick did, he grew into his job and taught his son. Derek was the closest thing he had to a son, and the pain of losing him was silently tearing at his soul.

The sky had turned a deep blue, it would be black in another half an hour. Maverick strolled the streets slowly, gazing at each person passing by, his hands close to his coat pockets, where he conveniently stashed stakes and vials of holy water.

It was nearly ten when Maverick decided to rest. He had come to a park with a small lake. People walked their dogs and joggers did their last mile as Maverick sat on a stone bench beside a forsythia bush. Sighing deeply, he ran his hand through his long hair. Maybe I should end the fight and try to live normally. There's nothing I can do for Derek.

Maverick bowed his head in despair. He had never felt like this; spent and lacking the drive that had kept his family line going for close to three hundred years. He was the last hunter, and maybe it was time to end the family business once and for all.

He heard footsteps approach him, but didn't raise his head right away. When the footsteps stopped in front of him, he lifted his head and saw a man stand over him. Somehow, he looked familiar.

"Thomas Maverick?"

Maverick blinked. "Yes?"

"I'm Detective Knight, Metro Homicide." Nick reached for his badge inside his coat.



A tidal wave of recognition washed over Maverick. This man indeed looked familiar. There was a drawing of this man in one of his ancestors' journals. A deal was made between him and the previous Maverick that granted them both their lives as long as they didn't cross each other. The journal stated that this man and his two companions were to be left alone, or they would renege their pact and destroy the hunters.

"You're one of them," Maverick said in a hushed tone.

Nick pocketed his badge. "In a technical sense, yes. I'm still a vampire. You've been studying the journals of your relatives."

"My ancestor drew your picture in his journal, right after his encounter with you. He's been a legend in our family: the one who made a deal with a vampire,"

Nick laughed. "I would have thought he'd be thrown out of the hunter's guild for what he did."

Maverick stood, staring at Nick as though he had seen a statue come to life. "You've managed to live all those years."

"Well, sure. I didn't have you on my back, following me all over the world."

"Still, it's quite remarkable that you've lasted so long. None of my ancestors have come across you since that initial meeting so long ago." Maverick suddenly felt humbled. "You must be very good at what you do."

"I don't do what I used to do, and I think your ancestor had something to do with that," Nick confessed. "When I let him go, I felt as if I did something right. I didn't do what I should have done; instead of taking his life, I gave it back to him. It was a turning point for me. Since then, I've felt that I should be giving back what I took for all those years before."

Maverick was astonished by what he heard. "A vampire with a soul," he breathed.

"No, just a guilty conscience." Nick looked around, the park was almost empty. He turned to Maverick, ready to confirm the hunter's fears about the boy, although he knew that the news would not be unexpected. "I know about your partner."

Maverick faced Nick. "Have you seen Derek?"

"Yes." Nick paused. "He's been brought across, and he's made his first kill."

"I thought as much." Maverick shook his head solemnly. "I have to end it."

"I know." Nick could see the torment in Maverick's eyes, the look he had seen many times when he had to inform someone that a loved one was dead. It was a look of pain, disbelief, and usually led to an outpouring of tears and emotion. Maverick held himself together; no tears, no wall of grief. Nick knew that Maverick could not afford to get emotional, not when the most agonizing task he would ever face was still at hand.



"I don't suppose you know where to find him?"

"I think it's best that he finds you," Nick said. "If you go searching for him, you might find yourself facing more than your able to take on."

"Are you saying that I can't do my job?" Maverick grew angry and frustrated. "May I remind you how many of your kind I've killed over the years?"

"With a companion at your side," Nick added. "You're alone now."

"That doesn't mean I'm incapable of handling it myself!"

"Listen," Nick said forcefully, attempting to calm Maverick down, "We shouldn't be arguing about it."

"You're right. Just tell me where he is."

Nick sighed. There seemed to be no getting through to him. "You'll probably be walking into a trap."

"I can handle it."

"You'll have to lure him out."

"I can handle it!"

"I won't be able to help you."

"You've done enough already."

Nick paused. This wasn't right. He couldn't let him go to the Raven; he was known there. There was no doubt in his mind that if Maverick stepped one foot in there, he wouldn't be making it out,

"No, there has to be some other way," Nick contemplated. He walked around the bench, rubbing his temple. "I can't let you go in there."

"It's not up to you," Maverick said calmly. "It's not like it's the first time I've come across this kind of situation, Detective. I've faced death many times and I'm still here."

"But you haven't faced a roomful of vampires all at once!" Nick's voice rose to a tense, but even level. He faced Maverick from behind the bench, his hands gripping the bench hard enough to rip it apart. "Not only will you have to deal with vampires who know who you are, but you'll have to contend with Derek's maker, and I can assure you, there's nothing more he would love than to see you dead. You go in there, and you practically giving him exactly what he wants!"

"How many arrows can you shoot at once? How many stakes can you hold in one hand? It will never be enough. They will be on you faster than a pack of starving wolves. Derek will be one of them. You're food to him, plain and simple. Can you honestly shut away every feeling you have towards him to kill him as he attacks you?"



Maverick exhaled a shaky breath, Knight's words had struck home. He was right: the plan to waltz into the Raven was suicide, but under the circumstances, it was the only thing he could come up with. He dragged his hand across his face. "I fell so much for him, the thought of it makes me sick, but I can't help wanting to free him from this! He doesn't deserve it! We've fought so hard to diminish the numbers, it just isn't fair that he has to become what we strove to destroy!"

"Who are you doing it for?" Nick asked softly. "Derek, or yourself?"

Maverick stared at him, unable to answer right away. Tears began to well up in his eyes, and he made no attempt to wipe them away. "I don't suppose you have...no, you couldn't have children-what was I thinking? My point is that I've raised Derek for a long time. I took him from his parents who were bent on destruction. I gave him everything they couldn't. And as someone who cares for a child they raise, you don't ever want to see them suffer. To me, seeing Derek like this is more suffering than I would ever want to hear. And I know that he didn't ask to become like this. His life has been stolen from him, and that tears at my heart. Maybe he likes what he is, but I know that it's a feeling he will become bored with. He'll miss all the things he used to do. And there's a part inside him, that I know is still there, a part that is repulsed by what he is. He knows that his options are limited, and there is only one way out." Maverick's voice began to crack as he bared his true feelings to Nick. "You may think I'm being selfish, but I know Derek better than anybody. He's too human to be a vampire. And I'm too much of a father to let him remain one."

There was a part of Nick that sympathized with the hunter; Nick cared for a young boy once, only to have Lacroix bring him across. He had felt outraged and betrayed then, just as Maverick felt now. "I can see if he's in the Raven, maybe ask some questions," he said finally. "If he's there, I'll mention something about you looking for him. If he's not, then you're on your own."

Maverick stood, rendered mute with gratitude. He stammered, trying to find the right way to thank Nick.

"You're welcome." Nick walked away slowly with his head down, but spun around to offer a last piece of advise. "Wait her. Don't come to the Raven. As I said, if you're spotted, I won't be able to help you."

"You're taking a big risk," Maverick shouted to him.

Nick smiled. "To quote you, I can handle it."

Derek entered the Raven at 1:00, hoping to repeat his performance from the night before. Lacroix had fed him a few hours ago, and he was already starting to feel the annoying hunger pains. The dance floor was packed; he didn't think he'd have much trouble feeding tonight.



He strolled around the crowd, slowly and methodically, keeping note of women that attracted him. None of them looked like Kathy, he lamented. The more he thought about her, the worse he felt. Lacroix told him that it was foolish to dwell on the past, but he couldn't help it. The guilt hurt more that the hunger sometimes. He would never forget the blank look on her lifeless face, the face that had been so vibrant and beautiful moments before his fangs entered her neck. The image would remain with him for as long as he was a vampire, and a small part of him didn't think he could bear that.

Some vampire I am! he scolded himself. I can't get all mushy like this! He shook Kathy's face from his mind, and returned to the task at hand. Find a girl, immobilize her will, lead her upstairs to of the spare rooms designed for such a purpose, and take just as much as he needed, as Lacroix had instructed him. It was that simple, so why was he stalling?

As he continued his search, he felt something was wrong. His vampire sense alerted him that he was being watched. Was someone looking at him, possibly eyeing him as a victim? He discreetly scanned the room, hoping to find who was looking at him. From behind the bar, he saw a dark- haired woman whose blue eyes were searing imaginary holes through him. That was Janette, Lacroix told him, and she owned the Raven. She's probably just watching out for me, he thought, feeling relieved. She must know that I'm new.

Derek watched as her gaze shifted from him to a tall blond man walking towards the bar. She kissed his cheek as he approached her. Derek felt momentarily jealous. Who was this guy? He stared intently at him, and was suprised to find that he, too was a vampire. Funny, he thought, he doesn't look like a vampire.

He circled the crowd, but his attention shifted from finding a meal to learning why Janette had been staring at him. She and the blond man talked, and she pointed in Derek's direction, her eyes never leaving the man's face. Derek wondered of the man was looking for him, although he couldn't think of any reason why. Maybe he was part of some vampire welcoming committee.

Derek was briefly distracted by a red- haired woman who looked a little like Kathy. He looked back to the bar and Janette was alone. Where did he go? he panicked. He couldn't disappear that fast!

A hand touched Derek's shoulder, nearly causing him to yell out. He turned and came face to face with the man from the bar. "Can I talk to you?" the man asked directly into his ear. He began to walk towards the bar, his eyes beckoning Derek to follow.

Derek didn't sense any danger from the man, so he followed him to the far end of the bar where a glass filled to the brim with a crimson liquid waited for him. Derek sat on the stool, waited for the man to take his seat, and began to drink heartily from the glass. He had to restrain himself from gulping the contents.



"You can have more, if you like," the man said. "No need to drink it down so quickly."

His words fell on deaf ears as Derek finished off the glass. He placed the glass down and used a napkin from the bar to wipe his lips. "You wanted to talk to me about something. Who are you?"

"My name's Nick. I'm sure Lacroix has mentioned me to you."

Nicholas, the mortal-lover, Lacroix had called him. Derek recalled his discussion of the vampire who spent most of his immortal life attempting to regain what he had given up, something that Lacroix found offensive and pointless.

Derek nodded. "He has. He told me that you want to become human again." He watched the bartender refill his glass. "Is that possible?"

Nick was thrown by his question, and paused before responding. "I've come close a few times, but nothing has been permanent. I do my best to keep a semblance of a so-called life." He folded his arms on top of the bar. "Why would you ask me that? Surely, you of all people, would know the answer."

Derek shrugged. "I just thought that you might have found some kind of cure. I mean, you've been around for a long time, right?"

"There's only one cure I know of, Derek," Nick said. "And it's not pretty."

"Yeah, I know." Derek picked up his glass and started to swish the liquid around, not wanting to drink it but to watch it drip slowly down the inside of the glass. For some reason, he wasn't thirsty anymore. "I've been there."

Nick cleared his throat, dreading what would probably happen next. Derek could either take the news about Maverick calmly, or he could go ballistic and attack him, causing a scene and trying Nick's patience. "You must have seen many deaths that way."

"First hand," Derek commented, his voice far away. "I was supposed to be the next hunter. Look where I am now."

Nick leaned in close to Derek. "I happen to know where you can talk to Maverick."

Derek frantically spun around in his chair. "Is he here? He can't be here! Is he crazy?"

"He's not here, Derek," Nick said placing a forceful hand upon Derek's shoulder. "I wouldn't let him come."

Derek frenzied eyes rapidly scanned the room; he had to be here! He wouldn't put it past Maverick to walk into a virtual vampire factory, just so he could talk to him. Nick was right, though; he wasn't here. Derek closed his eyes in a wave of relief. "Where is he?" he whispered.

"Do you want to know?"

Derek nodded slowly, his eyes remaining closed.

He knows, Nick thought. He knows what's going to happen. "You don't have to go. You could stay here and wait till tomorrow to move on."

"He'll track me down, like all the others. I'll be nothing more but a quest to him."

"That's not true, Derek," Nick said. "He cares for you."

"As I care for him," Derek added. "It's for that reason that I should talk to him." he turned to Nick with glassy eyes. "I had seen a killing, but I wasn't chased. The vampire might have sensed me, but I'm not sure why he didn't come after me. I called Maverick to tell him, and that's when Lacroix took me." He shifted uncomfortably on the stool. "I've tried to think of a reason why he would want me. Obviously, he had some plan to use me against Maverick, to take my knowledge of his tactics and use it against him. I think he expects me to be as vicious as him, to take back what Maverick had taken from me from as a kid. I can't do that. I've known from the day I went with Maverick that I was chosen, not taken."

"How did you know?"

"Dreams. Other kids had boogeymen. I had vampires." He picked up his glass and took a small sip. "In most of my dreams, I would be fighting vampires. I never paid attention to it until I kept dreaming of the same vampires, over and over. When I began apprenticing with Maverick, I realized that some of the ones we killed were from my dreams as a kid."

"You were having premonitions."

Derek shrugged. "I guess."

"Did you dream of anything else?"

"I had a lot of nightmares," Derek said, looking down at the floor. "In fact, I've living one now." He looked at Nick with painful, imploring eyes. "Do you know what it feels like to become your worst nightmare?"

"More than you know." Nick had met his share of troubled souls, including himself, but he couldn't help feeling genuinely sorry for Derek. Unlike other people that were brought across, Derek did not revel in what he had become, there was too much hunter in him to accept himself as his own prey.

"I don't know what to do," Derek muttered in a choked tone. He covered his face with his hands and dragged them down as if he attended to pull off his flesh. "Why couldn't I be left alone?"

"It's not Lacroix's way to leave things as they should be," Nick said, facing him. "But he doesn't control you. If this is not what you want, you're the only one who can choose to do something about it."

"If I do...choose to..." Derek found that he couldn't finish the sentence. The pathways from mind to mouth wouldn't accept what Derek was considering, "Would Lacroix find out?"

Nick leaned back in his stool; there was something that would have define repercussions. A thought flickered in Nick's mind: could that have been Lacroix's plan all along? Could Lacroix have planned to bring Derek across, thus angering Maverick and sending him after Lacroix in a rage, violating the pact made between Nick and Robert Maverick? Nick knew that Lacroix would not fight alone--a full scale assault by a hunter would give Lacroix the impetus to gain an audience with the Enforcers, something Nick knew he had it avoid at all costs. "He'd find out sooner or later," Nick answered. "Hopefully, I can get Maverick to safety before that happens."

Derek was silent for a few minutes, unmoving and staring blankly past Nick. I don't think I could make such a decision, Nick pondered in earnest. To knowingly walk into your own death was something Nick had never had to do, and he was thankful for that. But he felt such a deep sense of remorse for Derek, someone who spent years fighting what he fought was evil, only to have to succumb to the fate he had give to others. He didn't deserve that, and Nick secretly wished there was something, anything, he could do.

"I think if you still want to talk to Maverick," Nick said in a low whisper, trying to snap Derek back to the matter at hand, "We should go soon."

Derek blinked, then gave a deep sigh. He nodded slightly, and slowly rose from the stool. "Take me to him," he said curtly. "Let's get this over with."

Maverick glanced at his watch for the millionth time, wondering how things were going between Knight and Derek. It had been close to two hours since the detective had gone off, hoping to locate Derek and approach him without provocation. Maverick felt the seeds of worry begin to blossom in the pit of his stomach: what if Derek reacted the way Maverick feared--the vampiric rage bursting forth, his fragile mind already twisted by power and blood. He had no doubt that Knight could handle such an outburst, but it was what Knight would have to do to Derek that made it feel as if someone were wringing his intestines like a wet cloth.

Something's wrong, he thought frantically. Knight should've been back by now. Maybe I should go to the Raven.

A loud whoosh! behind him caused Maverick to spin around with his hand inside his coat, ready to pull out a weapon. His hand froze when he saw Knight and Derek standing two feet away from him.

All of Maverick's muscles relaxed, and relief flowed over him like a cool river in July. He was so glad to see Derek, and he had to restrain himself from running over and giving him a fatherly hug. As it were, he stood motionless, wanting nothing more but

to look at him. Derek wore different clothing that added a expensive flair to his usually T-shirt and jeans clad form. His blond hair had been brushed back, revealing his watery blue eyes and accentuating his newly pale complexion. Behind the altered physical appearance. Maverick still saw his friend and helper, and was able to ascertain his intent just by looking into his soulful eyes, which were filled with a combination of desperation and determination that called out a silent plea to Maverick.

Help me.

"Look who I ran into," Nick joked, trying to lighten the situation, "Thought we'd drop by."

Maverick shrugged. "It's not like I was going anywhere."

"I should leave you two to talk," Nick took a step away from Derek, but stopped and turned, placing his hand upon Derek's shoulder. "Remember it's ultimately up to you. Talk to him. He cares for you. Either way, you should make the final decision."

Derek nodded, wondering if Nick realized that the decision had already been made. "Thank you, Nick. Tell Lacroix that I'm sorry I wasn't what he wanted me to be."

Nick flashed a sardonic grin. "Don't worry. He'll find out soon enough." With that, he took to the air, leaving Maverick and Derek alone.

They stood as if rooted to the ground, neither of them wanting to make the first move. Derek found that he couldn't think of the first thing to say to Maverick. Here was his chance to open up to him, to tell him things he had thought about since waking up in the morgue. He wanted to tell him about Kathy, and how he felt while he drained her. Maverick would understand that it was necessary. He always understood.

Maverick's heartbeat drummed through Derek's head; he had been thinking so hard about what to say that he relaxed his mind to the point where his keen sense of hearing took over. He heard the muffled thumping of Maverick's heart, a bit faster that it should be, but normal under the circumstances. Derek's eyes narrowed in on Maverick's neck, and locked on the pulsating vein that throbbed like a brightly-lit neon sign. Derek's fangs unconsciously began to lower, the vampire part of him preparing his body to feed.

The still lingering human part of him refused to allow it, and he quickly spun around, shutting his eyes away from Maverick, not wanting him to see his glowing eyes or the fangs. He covered his face with his arms, ashamed at what he had become.

Maverick spotted the change, which took all of five seconds. Witnessing Derek transform was a shock, and it shook him from his momentary delusion that Derek was fine, that he wasn't a vampire, and they could go him and forget about the whole thing. The greenish eyes convinced him that Derek was far from fine, and he needed his help.

"Derek," Maverick's voice creaked, "Don't turn away." He took two cautionary steps toward Derek, who flailed out to his left arm in defense.

"Don't! Don't look at me!"

Maverick gulped, feeling his face heat up and his eyes begin to water. Not now, he told himself fiercely, hold it together! "Come on, Derek, you're acting like I've never seen a vampire before. Turn around so I can talk to you. Please!"

Derek wiped his eyes and slowly lowered his arms. It seemed to Maverick that Derek was turning in slow motion, but when he finally faced forward, his face was creased with tears. Seeing Derek so vulnerable hit Maverick with a torrent of pity that he didn't think he could hold his emotions in check much longer.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" Derek said loudly. "Do you want to see what my carelessness did to me? How I let my guard down and let them make me one of them?"

"No, Derek-" Maverick started, moving closer.

"You showed me how to defend myself, over and over. Yet when it came for the ultimate test, I failed. I let them win!" Derek grabbed the lapels of Maverick's coat and pulled him close. "Look at me! LOOK AT ME!" he screamed, shaking Maverick. "I'm a monster! I've killed someone! I took her blood and I liked it!" He made eye contact with Maverick, trying to make them say what he couldn't verbalize. Blinking, he lowered his head slightly. "I liked it for a while, until I realized what I had done. After I fed, I felt guilty, and I couldn't stop thinking about her. Her face still won't leave my mind." He paused and squinted his eyes, attempting to keep back the tears that threatened to come unabated.

"You had no choice," Maverick said, soothingly. He took hold of Derek's wrists, ignoring the chill of his skin. "One of the very first things I told you is that a vampire has no control over his hunger. When it comes, it only gets worse until it's quenched. You're no different, Derek. She was there, and you needed her blood. End of story."

"I can't do it anymore!" Derek wailed, letting the tears come. "I don't want this! I'm too much like you to remain like this, I can't shut off my feelings just to quench my hunger. I can't kill someone and watch them die in my arms." He rested his head on Maverick's shoulder. "I'm not a monster," he whimpered softly.

Maverick's eyes were wet as he wrapped his arm around Derek's head. "No, you're not. You never were," he whispered into Derek's ear.

He was suddenly engulfed within Derek's arms. Maverick couldn't believe the feeling of warmth he was receiving; he couldn't remember if he had ever hugged Derek in all the years they worked together. This felt as if it were long overdue.

Derek lifted his head off of Maverick's shoulder and leaned toward his ear. "End this," he whispered faintly, his voice eerily even. "Please."

Maverick knew it was coming, but the wait for Derek to show allowed his mind to fall into a chasm of denial, a safe place that was shattered when Derek voluntarily asked him for a second death. He was thankful that Derek wanted it, relieved in the knowing that it was the best thing, yet he was suddenly filled with the most intense sorrow he had ever known. Killing other vampires was something that had become routine, and he had shed nary a tear over their deaths. This one would be the last vampire killing he would do as a hunter, the last and the hardest.

"I want you to know," Maverick started, his voice catching, "that I've regarded you as the closest thing to a son as I will ever have."

"I've loved you like a father, too," Derek replied, facing Maverick. "I was actually looking forward to taking over as a hunter, you know, like a son taking over the general store when the old man got too tired."

Maverick smiled. "You would've made a great hunter."

Derek rested his head back onto Maverick's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him even tighter than before. There was nothing more to be said. He embraced Maverick for the last time, and waited.

The stake was inside a inner pocket of his coat. Maverick didn't want to push Derek away and make him lay on the ground so he could thrust downwards into his chest, which was the easiest way. He didn't want to let Derek go. Gently, his shaking hand found the stake and pulled it out slowly. He rolled it around in his hand, trying to get the perfect grip for the upward thrust he would have to perform. When his hand was perfectly molded around the smooth wood, he gripped Derek with his other arm as tight as he could.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and plunged the stake into Derek's chest.

Pain encompassed every pore of Derek's body; he was suprised that a dead body could feel so much pain. His eyes were skewered shut, and he wanted to scream as loud as he could, just to have some form of release. He grabbed handfuls of Maverick's coat, and tried to burrow his face into Maverick's shoulder. Derek held onto his mentor until he felt his knees falter and he slipped to the ground with Maverick's assistance.

Tears were spilling from Maverick's eyes like rapids as he eased Derek to the ground. The stake protruding from his chest was slanted and blood from the wound trickled down Derek's gray shirt and onto his pleated pants. Maverick's hand was slick with blood, but he paid no heed. His eyes were fixated on his dying partner, the boy who he had raised, the boy he had to kill.

"It's ...not your...fault," Derek managed to say, squinting as he felt the blackness enter him, eating away at the edge of his vision.

"I know," Maverick mouthed, his voice refusing to form in his throat.

Derek tried to smile, and he wanted to say one more thing before he passed, but his eyes began to roll upwards, and his lids closed silently. He was gone.

Maverick stroked Derek's lifeless face, and tenderly smoothed back the blond hair. "I love you, Derek," he said, hoping that his soul could hear and understand.

A sound came from behind Maverick, but he didn't have to look to know who it was. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes in an effort to compose himself before he faced Detective Knight. "I need your help now," he admitted. "You see, usually when we--I mean, I --kill a vampire, I sprinkle some holy water on it, cut off the head and watch it decompose. Then I take what's left and burn it." He stood and dusted off his pants, turning to Nick. "I can't do that this time."

"I know," Nick nodded in agreement. "You've already been through a traumatic event." He bent down and picked Derek up cradling him in his arms like a sleeping child. "We have to go to the Raven,"

"Why there?" Maverick asked, puzzled.

"Janette knows of people who will take care of him."

"What do you mean,' take care of him'? What kind of care do other vampires dole out on their dead?" Maverick had a bad feeling about this. "I hope you don't mean that they eat-"

"No! Absolutely not!" Nick protested. "Vampires will not feed on others, especially dead vampires." Nick began walking at a steady pace; even with Nick holding Derek in his arms, Maverick had to increase his pace by about a step just to keep up. "Vampires are almost religious in their treatment of their dead. Just like any other culture, they have their processes. Derek will be properly laid to rest. You needn't worry."

"Well, I do worry," Maverick admitted to in a harsh tone. "I've never known of this sect of vampire morticians. It doesn't make sense, really. why would such a vicious race--present company excluded--go to such lengths to bury something that's already dead?"

"I'll admit, it doesn't happen often, but for Derek," Nick glanced down at the still form in his arms, cursing Lacroix for his lousy judgment, "they'll make an exception."

Maverick was touched. Knight didn't have to do this, yet it seemed that he was going out of his way to make sure that Derek didn't suffer any more than he already had. It was as if he genuinely cared. He knew then that his ancestor had made the right choice in letting Nick go.

They drove Nick's car to the Raven, parking in front of the near- empty bar. Patrons were filtering out to return to wherever they came from, be it a coffin or a regular house. As Nick gently pulled out Derek's body from the back seat, Maverick was stunned that no one seemed to care that a dead body was being dragged from a car. He shut his door and followed Knight into the Raven.

"Janette!" Nick called as he stepped onto the empty dance floor. Within a minute, the brunette vampiress sauntered into the room with two large men at her side.

"You're cutting it close, Nicola," she said, playfully tapping her wrist.

"You know you can't rush these things," Nick replied.

The two men came to each side of Nick and lifted Derek from his arms as if he was a newborn baby. Maverick tensed, but remained still. He had to trust them, even if trusting a vampire was something he was totally against.

Janette stopped the men as they prepared to leave. She gingerly brushed her hand against Derek's cheek. "Such a waste," she sighed. "He was not right for this." She waved the men away and they slowly walked towards another room. Maverick followed their every step, his gaze never leaving Derek. They approached a doorway, hesitated for a second, then disappeared.

"It may not mean much, but you have my sympathies," Janette said.

"Thank you." Maverick raked a hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, what now?" he asked, turning to Nick.

"We get you to safety. There's no doubt in my mind that Lacroix is aware of Derek's death, so we have to get you away from here."

"But where?"

Nick shrugged. "Where would you like to go?"

Maverick pondered the possibilities. He traveled extensively, but never stayed in one place for a long time, certainly not long enough to get a feel for a particular city. Nick was giving him a chance to start a new life, but he honestly had no idea where he wanted to go. "I don't know. Where would you go if you wanted to start over?"

"Let's see..." Nick circled Maverick, rubbing his chin in mock thought. "I think New Orleans would be a good place for you. You certainly look as though you'd fit in there nicely."

It took Maverick all of one second to agree. "Sounds good. I've only been there once, years ago when--" He stopped, and smiled in silent remembrance. "New Orleans is fine. I have some things back in my apartment. Should I--"

"Leave them," Nick said, shaking his head. "That's from your other life. You can get new things when you get to New Orleans. Besides, we don't have much time." He reached into his pocket, and paused when he realized it was empty. Nick gave Janette an imploring look."I..uh..seem to be a little short. Can you.."

Janette sighed. "You'll owe me much more for this one, Nicola." She walked behind the bar and pulled out a cashbox. Opening it, she extracted a wad of bills that she threw to Nick. He caught it with one hand, and handed it to Maverick.

"This should help you start that new life."

Maverick was stunned by the gesture: there had to be at least a thousand dollars! "I can't take this."

"Yes, you can," Janette said. "He'll make you."

Nick tapped Maverick on the shoulder. "Come on. I have to get you to the airport before sunrise."



They walked toward the exit, but not before Maverick took Janette's hand and kissed it. "Thank you, for myself and Derek."

Janette smiled sarcastically. "Nick reminded me that I hadn't done a good deed in quite a while. You just happened to be the lucky recipient."

Nick grabbed Maverick's shoulder. "Let's go!"

They went outside and retrieved the knapsack from the car. The sky was beginning to lighten; Nick knew that this was going to have to be quick. He stepped behind Maverick, putting his arms around his waist, "Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Maverick felt the sudden rush of wind on his face, but he wouldn't look down. He would have to contend with the feeling of flight without actually seeing anything. If he didn't open his eyes, he wouldn't get agitated, and it would lessen the chances of seeing him squirming and having Nick lose his hold. He could imagine what it would look like; the rooftops below him, buildings zooming past him as if he were a bird on a morning flight. He was happy with what he thought he would see, but there was no way he would open his eyes.

He felt Nick slow down, then descend, lowering them to the ground with practiced ease. As Maverick's feet touched the ground, Nick held him so that inertia wouldn't carry him forward. When he was steadied, he opened his eyes and realized that they were in the parking lot of the airport.

"That was quite a ride," Maverick commented.

"You won't find a more direct mode of transport, unless they start beaming people. like on that TV show." Nick was aware of his internal clock ticking away the precious minutes until sunrise. "I'd better go. I'll just make it back to my own place in time."

"I guess that makes us even, doesn't it?" Maverick asked.

"I would think so." Nick smiled and patted Maverick's shoulder. "Have a good life, Maverick."

"Thank you, Nick. For everything." Maverick shook Nick's hand, then watched him fly off. He followed Nick in the air until he became a faint dot that disappeared into the clouds.

Before he retired for the day, Lacroix decided to do some redecorating. It was the only way he could vent his anger over the loss of Derek. He grabbed a chair and slammed it against a wall, disrupting the angle of a framed still-life that innocently hung inches above the point of impact.

It wasn't just Derek's death that caused him such rage; it was the fact that the damn hunter got away, right from under his nose. By the time he sensed Derek die, he

knew it would be pointless to track him. The hunter would already have disposed of him, leaving nothing but a charred heap of ashes. If not for that pact, Lacroix thought angrily, I'd go after the man myself. That was his plan all along, a plan gone regrettably awry by Derek's overpowering sense of humanity, something Lacroix grossly miscalculated.

As he contemplated the displacement of an end table, Lacroix had a distressing thought: what if the hunter didn't act alone? Surely, Derek would not go to him unless he was coerced, and if that were true, he knew exactly who would be doing the coercing. Nicholas always had a soft spot for those who were not meant to be taken. There was nothing that could be done about that: Nicholas was beyond his help. Then there was the other option: Derek chose to die. The very idea of Derek willingly going to his death was something that sickened Lacroix. Vampire suicide was something he had neither the tolerance nor the stomach for.

Spent from his remodeling efforts and the nearing sunrise, Lacroix rubbed his face and tried to let the anger leave him in a less destructive fashion, "Maybe it was for the best," he said, mentally conceding defeat. He was sorely disappointed that there was to be no involvement from the Enforcers: he so wanted them to assist him in the destruction of the hunters. But it was not meant to be. Such a task would have to wait for another time, another victim. He would search endlessly for that perfect one.

After all, he had more than enough time.