DISCLAIMER: Maybe I should call this author notes? If you wish translations of the different lingo just review and ask and it shall be given. Oh, and October 21 is the date of the DVD release of the first season. Also, thank you Kristin for coming back online. Everyone needs to visit this site KnightVision.

Again, TPTB thanks for the loaner.

Up the ante on the rating for this chapter—maybe very strong PG-13. Nothing major, just strong suggestions.

CHAPTER 6

"He is a real sheik," this was Jill speaking of Alan Ladd. She sat with her feet up on the Chippendale divan, in Cary's lap with her head against his chest and his arms around her. She sounded and looked very content, as if there was not anywhere else she would rather be. Jill had kicked off her heels and her legs looked very long to Nick, who hadn't seen such intimacy in a while.

Nick himself sat on the matching camelback loveseat with Esme next to him. He had taken off his blazer and it was hung over the arm of the seat. They were watching the movie in the Library—really the dining room. However, as Cary told Nick, he did not need one, so he converted it. All around were tall, built in bookcases. One of the bookcases had some panel doors, and behind this was the entertainment center—television, VCR, surround sound system—the works.

"Just look how Veronica Lake looks at him, like he's lunch or something," she continued and sighed.

This movie was new to Nick, though it appealed to the detective in him. It was the first original Raymond Chandler penned for the screen and took many twists and turns. It concerned Johnny, the Alan Ladd character, who comes home from WW2 and finds his wife, Helen, has turned into a party girl. After a disturbing revelation about their late son, Johnny leaves and gets picked up literally by Joyce, the Veronica Lake character. Helen soon is shot, but by whom? Nick enjoyed the flick, a perfect example of film noir.

Jill's chatter shattered enjoyment of the movie somewhat though. She had lived in Hollywood during the 1940's and knew a few of the stars. Cary kept telling her to hush, in a very soft way, punctuating each occasion with a kiss. These grew in ardor as the movie progressed, so Nick presumed that Jill had a reason in her mind to keep talking. However, he could not stop feeling he was on strange double date where one pair got along, and the other just sat. By the end of the movie, the dark haired vamp and his red headed date were completely enthralled in each other, not even noticing or even caring about the other couple in the room.

They broke out of it, somewhat, when Esme cleared her throat. Nick could see the slight gold flecks in Cary's hazel eyes. Breaking off a vampire in the midst of passion could be very deadly to human and non-human alike. After all, vampires lived by seduction—their whole manner and being revolved around it. It was why human victims were so readily found, why they were so mesmerized by them.

"There is a time and a place, tu trouves pas? Do you not think?" she inquired.

"You are a wowser, Esme," shot back Jill. "However, you are correct." She pulled her date to his feet. "A ce soir, and have fun." She giggled at that and Cary gave her a very disapproving look. She replied to this with a kiss and they walked out. Soon a door was heard closing and then came a couple of barks, a whine, and a growl.

Esme laughed at the sound. Nick stared at her, as she took the rewound movie out of the machine and popped in the other.

"Jealous dog Cary has, n'est-ce pas?"

Nick had to laugh at this, and realized that it had been a while since he really laughed. Esme came to sit back down and, with the remote, fast- forwarded through the ads and stopped when she saw the black and white MGM lion.

"I would figure Jill liked Ty Power," remarked he.

"Bien sur, however, she likes Cary better."

Another small laugh from Nick.

"I've noticed." He looked at her curiously. "And you?"

"Like Cary? Romantically? Mon dieu, mignon, I don't even know if I like him as a vampire. Besides, cher, he is too beautiful, no?"

"Unlike myself," cracked Nick, putting an arm around her and surprising himself by doing so.

She thought a minute.

"No, cher," she said, stroking his cheek, "you are handsome. Cary is pretty, and vain. Besides, Helena would keep me away if I even was so inclined."

On screen, Norma Shearer as Marie Antoinette was just arriving in Paris. They watched a while.

"She did a good job, but was way to old to play this part. After all, Marie was just 15 when she came to Versailles, and just 19 when she became queen."

Nick agreed. "Robert Morley, however, does capture the essence of Louis."

"Oui, he does. I always felt so sorry for him, and for her. What fun days, before the Revolution, and the styles created by Rose Bertin! All the fringe ruffles, lace, and tassels. Oh la la—the headdresses! All that flour and paste! Mon dieu! It is a good thing vampires do not get lice!"

That got a laugh from the other, a real chuckle. They watched some more of the movie and Nick noticed that the grandfather clock read nearly 5:30, almost dawn. He felt the slight scrape of teeth and something moist on his neck, just above the collarbone. He sort of turned and was greeted with a very soft kiss to his lips. Nick responded to this for a moment, then pulled away. Esme looked at him wide-eyed.

"Mon cher, did I do something wrong?" she asked, in a hurt voice.

He looked away and sighed. "No, it's not you. It's me."

She considered this and gave him a comforting smile. Nick noticed her perfume—some sort of oriental scent of jasmine and spice.

"How so, mignon?" she asked him, softly.

Another sigh. "It has been a while since I've been with another woman," he told her, honestly, to her raised eyebrows.

"But, cher, with your charm and your looks, how could...I mean, it's just not in our nature."

Nick got upset at that. Esme gave another soothing smile and ran a hand through his hair.

"Cher, tell me. I can see something bothers you, no?"

"Oui," affirmed he.

Esme pulled her legs up and put her arms around them, shut off the television, and gave a decidedly French gesture for him to go on. But could he? How could he explain about what happened the last time he was with a woman? Kissed one? That had been Nat, and look what happened to her.

Of course, he reasoned, there was a bit of a difference—his partaking of any blood would not harm Esme. But the very memory of that night and the aftermath still haunted him. Could this undead beauty understand the love he felt for a mere mortal? The hell with it, he thought. If it ruined the night, so be it—que sera sera.

"I was in love with a human back in Toronto, a very gentle but strong woman. She was trying to help me. Then a friend of hers committed suicide, and I thought I lost a friend as well, my human partner on the force. So one day she comes to me and asks me to bring her across. What could I say?" He rose from the settee and walked toward the wall, leaning on it. "I tried to discourage her, but my heart was not really in it. So, I took her, and as LaCroix would say, I took too much. She almost...died. And that was that." He turned to face her. "I left Toronto and came here, to find myself I suppose."

Esme was very quiet and sat staring at him for quite some time. The grandfather clock chimed 6:30; the day was upon them. No light came through the heavy drapes on the window, though. Then she rose from her place and came to him, putting her arms around him and kissing him deeply.

"I understand, non cher. Mortals have their own power over us that is why we try to avoid them. This woman, is she well?"

"She's alive, and a resister."

"I too was once in love with a mortal," admitted Esme, speaking now in French, as if English could not convey the story. "His name was Jacques. However, the temptation proved too much. I was just a fledgling then, and could not stop the thirst, so he did not survive the encounter. But I went on, as my maker told me to do. And so must you, you'll never be happy or whole until you move on. Remember her in your most cherished memories, mignon, but do not let them overwhelm you. You are strong, you have immortality—you too will survive. You hide too much inside, let the feelings out, let them guide who you are, what you want."

Nick was silent, wondering at her words. For a moment he stood there, arms at his sides. Then he put them around her and kissed her, softly at first and then with more passion. Esme responded in kind. He gallantly picked her up and made his way to the stairs and then up and into his room. The dog was lying at Cary's closed door, looking very sad as only dogs can. Nick put Esme down when they reached his door at the end of the hallway.

"Are you sure of this, mignon. I do not wish too push you too fast. You need time to heal, perhaps?"

"I do, Esme. And the healing begins here," he asserted, closing the door. "Do you think you can cure the wounds?"

She gave him a long, slow, seductive smile, kicking off her shoes and undoing the clasp at the back of her dress.

"Cure, cher? That I do not know," she stated, stepping out of it. She grabbed his tie and led him over to the bed. "Ease, oui. Most definitely."