CONTINUITY: Part 2 When All Hell Threatens

DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I hold no rights to these wonderful characters created by Tanya Huff and the production crew of Blood Ties.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can only hope that those who enjoy the Lifetime Series as much as I do are not offended by the direction the characters are taking in this piece of work. One can only hope that the caretakers of the series check out the desires of the fans and perhaps take a look a good look at this site, not just my story. I will always stand by my belief that if the series is going to succeed it needs to step out of the stereo type of paranormal vampire series and play up the wealth of possibilities they have in having a character that has lived through some pretty frightening and pretty fascinating pieces of human history. May I dare suggest as an example…Highlander? Let the stories go deeper, let the relationships unfold at a pace that is not so haphazard or sketchy. Keep continuity in the episodes, give the stories their time to unfold and not rush them to a conclusion in an hour. You have us at your mercy, be kind and give us something more.

Once outside, he slowed, allowing his form to be visible to Detective Celucci who was waiting with his usual impatience beside his car. Closing his ears to the words Vicki and Coreen shared in the building behind him, Henry turned toward his own car.

"Fitzroy."

Henry gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement before unlocking the Jag. "Celucci." Setting the grimoire on the seat, he made certain the unused blood sacrifice that had filled the chalice had dissipated; absorbed by the evil of the goblet, before locking it away in the glove compartment. He was more than aware of the detective's approach as he settled the blade back into the inner pocket of his jacket.

"You gonna explain to me what happened here?"

Straightening, Henry eyed him with arrogant disdain. "Was there something you missed?"

"Yeah," sneered Mike. "How 'bout the fact that if it weren't for you Vicki and Coreen wouldn't have damn near lost their lives tonight!"

"If it weren't for me," repeated Henry in deadly tones. In a heart beat he was standing right within Celucci's comfort zone. "Detective, I do not have to answer to you, though I suggest you do a bit more research before you continue further."

Drawing himself to his full height, Mike forced himself to not step back. He refused to let the likes of Henry Fitzroy intimidate him. "You forget, vampire, I'm very good at research."

Henry's full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. "Are you perhaps referring to your narrow minded conclusions based on what you might think is a complete story? Have you got another body lying in the morgue with teeth marks on the neck and no blood?" He leaned closer, allowing his eyes to blacken, allowing just a hint of the power within him to escape. "Or is this some twisted ploy to get me to drink from you?"

Instinct beyond Mike's control had him stepping back before he could stop himself. The muscles and flesh of his neck suddenly throbbed in memory of Henry's sharp fangs digging cruelly deep and taking his fill of Mike's very life force. "You're sick!"

Henry stalked closer. Though he was shorter, he was no less a threat, no less able to reach out and draw the man to him as a mother would a needy child. "I am hungry, Celucci," he countered with a low growl. "More than you can ever know." And that was a truth, Henry could never refute, not even to himself. He burned with hunger, within his gut, within his soul, within his heart. Never in all the centuries since his turning had he felt such a all encompassing need that had only once source. Having admitted it to Michael Celucci was certainly not one of the smartest things he done this night, but if it got the mortal to stop and think of who and what he was trying to push, then it would be for the best.

Of course, he had to depend on Celucci having more than just a modicum of intelligence. Listening to the man's pounding heart, the rich angry, and yes, fear laced blood pulsing through the his body, the harsh rapid breath filling the man's lungs, Henry could calculate to the second the man's response.

"Why you son of a bitch….Over my dead body will let Vicki be alone with you!"

Teeth bared, Henry leaned close and whispered. "First, malign my mother again, and I won't hesitate to put you in your place. As for the second, if it weren't for Vicki's attachment to you, I would arrange that, Celucci. Your prejudice and imagined wounded pride is sincerely wearing thin."

Primal fear; that was how he would explain his reaction later. Genetic fight or flight instinct. The unnaturalness of Henry Fitzroy's life ate away at him until all he was left with was fear and rage. And if he was honest with himself at anytime, he would admit that this wasn't just about Vicki and whatever relationship she had with this creature. It was about himself, about having been a position of being the Alpha male in his territory only to have another, obviously much stronger man invade his space, hunt what he considered his. And Henry, in spite of his near animalistic behavior, was a man unafraid of those things which terrified Mike the most. And he hated that fear in himself as much as he hated Henry, God forgive him.

His right hand slowly, subtly slipped upward, inching beneath the folds of his jacket….

"Don't do it, Celucci," warned Henry.

"Mike!"

At the sound of her voice, clarity slammed into his mind. Slowly, feeling as if he were dragging himself out of the confines of a nightmare, he raised his gaze to the woman approaching. The sight of her cut through him and regret had his stiff shoulders dropping.

Walking with deliberate strides, keeping her eyes on her long time friend and former partner, Vicki found herself almost numb with disbelief. It didn't take much to guess the two of them were at it once more. Knowing Mike better than she knew Henry, she knew exactly who had started it, but she didn't absolve Henry completely. He knew exactly which of Mike's button's to push.

"Vicki," began Mike. "I can't—"

Vicki's hand rose sharply, stopping his trail of words with cold precision. "I want you to listen," she said. "I'm going to say this once, and I want everyone to listen. Please." Turning slightly, she included Coreen in her gaze, but she did not look at Henry. She couldn't, but deep down, she knew Henry would not feel slighted. She had no doubt he could easily sense her body's reactions to him standing so near. Instead, she looked back at Mike. One day soon, my friend, she promised, you and I are going to have to sit down and have a very serious heart to heart. But not tonight. She would be lucky if she had enough resistance left to keep herself from falling in Henry's arms after his revelation upstairs. "There is no blame. Whether you like it or not, Mike, as cheesy as it sounds, we are in this battle against darkness together. I know we might like to believe that we've seen the last of Norman Bridewell, but the reality is we haven't. He'll be back or worse will come in his place. We can't be dividing our strengths by trying to lay blame where it doesn't belong."

"Vicki, you don't know—"

She laid on Mike's tense arm, quieting him. Only then did she look at Henry, relieved to see his eyes faded back to their heart stopping green. "I know," she said. Her voice was low, almost a growl, but it was no less sincere. She did know, she had seen, she just wasn't up to acknowledging it. "But this is neither the time nor the place. I need you to take Coreen home, Mike. Make sure she's okay."

Having felt forgotten for a moment in the drama that was playing out before her, Coreen started. Looking from Mike to Henry, guilt washed over her. When she had come down the stairs after telling Vicki exactly what she had told Mike, she had seen the look on Mike's face, read too easily what he had been about to do. Not that it would have done much good, but the fact that he'd been about to draw on Henry told her how much she was responsible for his feelings. Still feeling raw from Norman's threats on her life, she didn't think she was up to handling Mike's suppressed rage. "Vicki, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

Turning slowly, careful not ramp up the headache to match the ache in her body, Vicki raised her gaze up to the young woman who had come to mean quite a lot to her. Like a baby sister or a whacky girl friend. How long has it been since she has had that? "Coreen, you have been through a lot, kidnapping, assault, threats upon your life, hell, upon your very soul, and not for the first time. It takes it toll, believe me. I have seen enough of the post trauma to know exactly how this plays out."

"But—"

Cutting her off, Vicki shook her head. "No buts. Go home, or better yet, have Mike take you to a friend's house or a family member's." She lowered her voice so that her next words reached only Coreen, but Henry heard them nonetheless. "Go be with someone whom you trust to hold you when you break down and cry, Coreen. Take advantage of that and hold on to them like there's no tomorrow." Her voice cracked and when she met Coreen's dark eyes, she knew the girl was both listening and understanding what she was talking about. "Don't come in until you're ready. Call me, leave a message. Let me know."

Coreen swallowed. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

"Yes, you will," agreed Henry as he slipped his hand proprietarily beneath her elbow.

"Vicki," began Mike.

"Mike, don't. I'll be fine. Just see to Coreen, okay?"

Gnashing his teeth, feeling as if his jaw was set to permanent ache from the abuse, Mike relented. He didn't want to fight in front of Fitzroy, hell, he didn't even want to fight with Vicki. He knew damn well his relationship with her was teetering on the edge of becoming a thing of the past and nothing more. It was that threat that cut him deep. "I'll call you in the morning," he warned.

Vicki shrugged then winced as the motion increased the ache across her upper back and neck.

"You do that, Celucci, but make certain it's not before noon."

Mike bristled instantly. "And what's it too you when I call, Fitzroy? You're not her—"

Unwilling to listen to another word, another unveiled accusation, another ounce of intolerance from a man she had thought better than that, Vicki turned away. "Henry," she said quietly, uncaring of how her behavior might seem. "Take me home. Please."

"Of course." Schooling his face to impassiveness, Henry allowed himself only a mental smirk and a silent, but childish so there! He knew it was beneath him, but it soothed him almost as much as being able to walk away with Vicki in his hold and Mike looking on.

Settling herself into the passenger side of the Jag, Vicki closed her eyes as Henry fastened the seatbelt around her and shut the door. The softness of his touch, however, lingered, sending a rush of heat curling down to her toes. As she waited for him to join her, she listened for the slamming of Mike's car door ahead of them. Seconds later, the low growl of his engine started up. All too soon, and then again not soon enough, the sound faded as he and Coreen left the scene. It was then that she became aware of the course texture beneath the palm of her left hand. Prying open her eyes, she looked down. Though the interior of the car was flooded with shadow, she knew it was Norman's spell book sitting between her and the driver's seat. The brittle texture scratched at her palm. Inside her head, his voice whispered it chilling promise. "You're the doorway, Vickie." She shuddered at the idea of there being no sight of peace in her future. Will this ever end? Somehow she just couldn't see it and the futility brought a wave of tears to her eyes.

"It will end." Henry said softly as he removed the book between them, setting it carefully in the back seat.

Vicki started. She hadn't even heard him get in, let alone heard herself speak aloud.

"I just can't promise how or when." Glancing quickly in her direction, Henry started the car. "But I can promise I will be there with you when it happens."

Fists curling against her thigh, Vicki fought the fear binding the words to her heart.

Sensing her turmoil, Henry's right hand drifted from the steering wheel and slid beneath hers. Slowly, masterfully, he opened her hand until her fingers were entwined with his. With the lightest of touches, he stroked his thumb across the tender flesh at the base of her thumb. Wrist to wrist, he felt her pulse as if it beat within him. It was a very erotic sensation, one that had him growing hard. But he did not push her. He said nothing, but gave everything in that silence, in his touch. He only hoped it was enough.

In the quiet Vicki sighed. "I know what you're doing."

"Really?"

"Hmmm. You're trying to wear me down."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Is it working?"

Vicki opened her eyes. All around her the street lights were washed together in a kaleidoscope of blurred lights. Allowing her hand to remain secure in his cooler palm, she shifted on her hip. Bracing her back against the car door, she faced him. His profile was not much more than a shadow of lines, but her memory filled in the contours; the high cheekbones, the square chin with its well defined cleft, the wave of his silken hair, the perfect fullness of his lips. With absolute clarity she recalled how it had felt to have those lips moving beneath hers, to have the taste of him on her tongue even as the taste of her brought him comfort, healing, and life. Had it only been a few short hours ago? It seemed a lifetime, yet what was a lifetime when compared to all those he has lived through?

"How do you do it, Henry?" She asked softly.

A smile came and went in the darkness. "Is this one of those trick questions where I had better come up with the right answer or have certain vital body parts rearranged?"

Unwillingly, Vicki chuckled. "I doubt you'd let any one get close enough to do that."

"I would let you, would welcome it." He replied on a rough note. "You tie me up in knots, Victoria. The thought of you, the scent of you…"

The tone of his voice sent heat dark and wicked spiraling through her body. Moisture built at the core of her. Her breasts tingled and a warm flush rose up her throat and flooded her cheeks. Throat growing dry, Vicki swallowed. The sound seemed loud in the quiet confines of his car. But old habits die hard, and she was not yet ready to give in to what her heart yearned for. "You're trying to distract me. That's not what I meant."

Scenting her rising desire, feeling his own growing in response to the heady perfume she was now exuding, Henry struggled to keep his tone light. "What did you mean?"

"How do you reach out when you know in the end you will wind up hurting?"

Heart leaping in his chest, Henry tightened his one handed grip on the wheel. Of all the questions he imagined her asking him, this was not the one. Of course, he also imagined having this kind of conversation in a place more conducive to exploring deeper connections. It was just like Vicki to blindside him with the unexpected. Still, he was hardly going to waste the opportunity. She was talking to him, with him, on a level that had little to do with solving a new case. "Because," he answered quietly, his eyes dark with sincerity. "The rewards of having loved are what sustain me in my solitude. They are my comforts, Vicki, but they are few."

"You could do better."

"Than you?"

Vicki gave a single short nod.

"You underestimate yourself."

"I am very flawed."

"Perfection is boring."

Vicki groaned, though her mouth was turned up in silent laughter. "We're not going to get into a battle of homilies, are we?"

"As long as we get to kiss and make up in the end, does it matter?" asked Henry as he pulled up in front of Vicki's apartment building. With quick efficiency, he slid the gear into park and turned off the ignition, plunging them into a cocoon of silence. Bracing his left arm across the steering wheel, he twisted to face her, a smile playing about his lips. "Wanna neck?"

For a long second, Vicki stared at him in open mouthed surprise. Laughter bubbled up inside her and she found she could not contain it. "Wanna neck?" She asked. By the light of the streetlamp at the front of the car, she tilted her head to the side, exposing the her vein. "Or do you mean wanna neck?"

Henry laughed. He couldn't help himself and it was strange, for he could not remember the last time he had made such a sound.

Vicki blinked and smiled. "I don't think I've heard you laugh."

"I'm afraid it's been a very long time." Henry replied with surprise.

"You should do it more often."

"Another cliché?"

"An honest observation."

Henry nodded. "Since we're being honest here, I have to say that there is not much time left of this night."

"I know." She made an attempt to pull her hand from his, but he would not let go. "I should go inside."

He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing the softest of kisses over her bruised knuckles. "I would like to come with you."

Flustered, wanting the same, but feeling the old fears rise up and trap her, she hesitated. "I can take care of myself, you know. Been doing it a long time now."

"And you've done a terrific job, but this isn't about what you can do, but I what I need. Can you give me that, Vicki?"

Vicki drew a breath. "What do you…need, exactly?" She whispered.

Henry gave a short soft laugh, caressing his cheek with the hand he still held. "The night is too short to list them all, but I will settle for seeing to your care and comfort."

Vicki blinked. It was not what she was expecting. "My comfort? That's all?"

"For now."

Swimming between disappointment and relief, Vicki found herself nodding. Really, how intense could walking her to her door get?

"Yes?" confirmed Henry.

"Yes."

Elation filled him, like the high of victory on the battlefield. In a breath he was out of the car and to the other side. Giving her no moment to change her mind, Henry reached a hand toward her, lifting her with ease, taking her weight just in that one touch, but leaving her pride intact. Vicki was all about pride, but Henry was about to take advantage of weakness. After all, it was what a warrior prince was trained to do.

"Bridewell's horde," gasped Vicki, surprised and ashamed she had almost forgotten, especially after having given Mike the speech about having a care that it wasn't really over.

"Will be safe for the time being," said Henry as he closed the door.

Vicki eyed him skeptically. "Henry, this is a Jag, a temptation in any neighborhood."

Keeping his hand on the car, Henry urged her with a silent nod to watch. A frown dropping her brows low over her eyes, Vicki squinted in the poor streetlight. At first she saw nothing different than the blur of pale fingers capable of dealing death and passionate heat upon the black glistening surface of the car door. Just as she was about to ask him what it was she was supposed to be looking at, she saw a brighter glow begin under his palm. A whisper of a voice, his voice, speaking words she could not understand, brushed against her ears. Then as it began, it was quickly over.

She looked at him, surprise clear in her large eyes. "Magic? I thought you hated magic."

"White magic, confirmed Henry. "The power of protection."

Vicki eyed him carefully. "I am beginning to understand there is a great deal about you I have refused to see."

Henry returned her gaze. "It's easy to see only what you want to see when you're afraid."

"It makes me no better than Mike."

Henry tightened his hold on her, tucked her against his side and started toward her door. "Hardly." As he reached the front entry to the building, he mentally commanded the lock to release, guiding her in before she even noticed. Their footsteps were quiet, singular on the hardwood floor. When he gained her apartment door, Vicki stopped, but before she could speak, he grasped the door handle and let her in.

Nerves jangling, alarm bells sounding inside her head, Vicki turned. Her plan to put control back into her hand faltered at Henry's soft smile.

"Your comfort," he reminded her. "My need." Raising his hand, he gently traced the line of her cheek down past her jaw, brushing aside the curling length of her hair. As sensitive as his fingertips were, he felt the rising heat of her blush long before he saw its soft color warm her skin. Slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, he leaned forward to finally fit his lips against her own.

Soft satin, sweet temptation, her sigh filled his mouth and set every nerve in his body soaring. His other hand came up to frame her face, to hold her captive, as he deepened the touch, parting her lips and sliding his tongue within the moist heat of her mouth.

Divine pleasure was not something Vicki would have placed into her landscape of vocabulary or experience, but at this moment, those were the only two words rattling around in her brain. At first she could only remain frozen in the smashing wave of sensations coursing through her body. It was like a cascade of fine crystal ice suddenly flaring to shards of spine tingling heat from her scalp to her toes and back, centering deep in her womb. Her heart stuttered. Her breath rushed from her lungs, being carried into his as if he needed it more than she. His long fingers, capable of such violence, gentled her face, held her still for this sweet onslaught, but as her body awakened, as she moved to embrace him, to hold him to her, he moved back. 'My need," he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead lightly against hers. His eyes were black. He knew this with a certainty. His fangs ached to erupt, but with the will of centuries, he held them back. Shuddering, he allowed his fingers to fall. "Your comfort." The first step he took away from her was difficult. The hard on he carried protested the confines of his pants, his stomach nearly cramped with the Hunger, but he was determined to show her the truth of his words. This was not about him, but about her. In quick, controlled, human movements, he left her standing in her entry and headed for her bathroom. Flicking on the light, he quickly went about drawing her a very hot bath. As the water ran, he picked up a large brown bottle sitting on the ledge of the tub. Bergamot, Rose, and Lavender the label read. Perfect. With efficient motion, he flicked open the top and poured a generous amount of the oils into the churning water. Next he started on the few candles scattered about the small room. With a single whispered command, their wicks flamed.

"It works better if you're undressed," he said as he bent to test the temperature of the water. A billow of heavily scented steam rose up. Breathing deeply the familiar herbs, he slowly straightened.

"Good thing, that," murmured Vicki as she lifted her naked leg and stepped into the awaiting water.

Hardly daring to breath again, Henry kept his gaze low, allowing it to travel over every inch of bared curving flesh as she submerged herself into the soothing waters. Supple thigh, the gentle curve of a hip, a tight tucked in waist, the crook of her elbow hindering his view of her perfect breasts. Her lack of inhibitions surprised and pleased him and he let loose a low rolling growl of approval as she lay back against the tub, watching his reaction as her rose colored nipples crested the lapping ripples of the scented water. Desire, deep and hard brought him to his knees and with all honesty of her power over him written on his face, he laid a near fevered brow onto the cool surface of the bath.

"Henry."

Her voice was soft, deep, filled with yearning he dared not answer. He was too close; to her blood, to the need to lose himself inside her tight sheath, to sink his teeth deep and taste the truth of all she was. He wanted to bind her to him so tightly that neither of them would know where one ended and the other began. He could see it in his head, feel every surge of their joined bodies, taste every flavor that was her and him together.

"I have to leave," he confessed with a gasp.

"Dawn is still an hour away," Vicki protested.

He raised his gaze to her face. "I need to feed, Vicki."

Drawn by the dark desire in his face, the stark hunger in his voice, Vicki raised her arm.

He captured it, licked the water from the satin of her skin, hesitated over the hard rhythmic beat of her pulse. "No." Gently, reverently, he laid her arm back into the soothing comfort of the bath.

Disbelief tore a gasp from Vicki's throat.

Henry, knowing exactly where her mind just went, hastened to explain. "Shhh, it's not what you think."

Lying in liquid sensuality, bathed in the warmth of candlelight, and engulfed in the heady scent of her own bath oils, Vicki struggled to keep her defensive sarcasm from jumping to her mouth. It was just her look to have such a perfectly romantic moment ruined. Queen of bad timing that was her; Vicki Nelson, woman. "Then tell me what it is, Henry, because I remember the last time you denied what I offered, and I can tell you I didn't like how that made me feel."

"I was angry then."

"And you're not now?"

"I am starving."

Vicki frowned. "I don't understand. You fed last night. Didn't you tell me you could go without taking blood for a day or two?"

Black eyes unwavering, Henry confessed. "I didn't feed."

"But—"

"I couldn't." He gave a short, unamused laugh. "It's never happened to me before."

Before she could help herself, Vicki smiled. Happiness threatened to bubble over, but she managed, just barely to hold onto the laughter. "Performance issues?"

Bristling with pride, Henry looked down his aristocratic nose. "Hardly….Yes, but it has left me with a problem."

"I can imagine."

A flash of a smile in candlelight reassured her.

Trailing a hand through the water, following the line of her supple arm to the curve where shoulder and neck met, Henry paused. "I want you to understand, Vicki, I will not take from you anything less than what you offer in passion, not compassion. I tell you I am hungry, but I do not say it out of any expectation for you to feed me as a mother would a child. I can find my food, take my sustenance and in thankful return, I will offer the memories of pleasure. It is the least I can do for the theft of someone else's life force. Memories, Victoria. Do you understand?"

Oh, boy, did she understand. He was at last promising something she could live with. He was committing his emotional needs and desires to her and her alone. "That's…." She licked her lips and tried again. "That's, uhhh…."

Henry smiled. "Scares the hell right out of you, doesn't it?"

"Right down to my toes," she admitted with a smile.

"I'm right there with you, you know."

"Good to know I'm not alone in this."

He captured a trailing curl and tugged.

Reading the signal, Vicki leaned closer until their lips were scarcely a breath apart.

"Never alone," murmured Henry as he placed one more kiss upon her wet lips. Then with a long sigh, he pushed himself up and away. "I will come to you tomorrow night."

"Be prepared to take me to dinner," she warned.

"Anywhere you like."

She smiled. "Promise?"

"Absolutely."

"Then sweet dreams, Henry."

"I wish I could," said Henry on a sigh.

"You don't dream?"

He shook his head, his hair brushing against his collar.

Vicki's eyes warmed. "Then I'll dream for us both."

A smile spread across his full lips. "As long as it doesn't conjure our incubus friend."

A/N: There could be more, should anyone be interested. Let me know. I'm working in new territory here, so your honest insight and suggested would be much appreciated.