7/23/09: Edited for original upload errors caused by text editor.

Touched By An Angel was about angels helping people.

Forever Knight was about a vampire family--one of whom sought redemption.

I wrote the crossover, but don't own either property.

Chapter 5: The Elder

However now was not the time to be musing on such things, Andrew decided as he noticed that her 'bodyguard' was silently eying him from his post in front of the door...and he still had no idea of how to politely decline her invitation.

Seeing Andrew's hesitant look in her employee's direction, the lady vampire dismissed "Merlin" with one word, and then waited expectantly for the 'ancient' to take the first bite.

Fortunately, Andrew was saved from having to make up an excuse when the phone on the desk rang.

With a little sigh of disgust at technology's ill timing (as far as she was concerned), Janette picked up the offending device in one dainty hand.

"What is it, Miklos? I told you I would signal if-- Bridgette?"--concerned frown--"Oui, put her on, then."

Andrew watched curiously as the vampiress drew in a sharp breath, her fingers closing on the phone piece so hard he could see the plastic starting to crack under the pressure.

"Escaped?! Impossible! Sacre... Combien de temps? Alright, alright....I'll take care of it. Of course he will be upset! Bridgette, calm down! I will reason with him. It's not like this hasn't happened before---he traveled with Houdini for Mother's sake. Just go home and stay away for at least a week to...oui."

She set the phone down with a mumbled curse.

"Problem I can help with?" Andrew asked her diplomatically.

The proprietress started as if she had forgotten he was there.

"Er....non, Monsieur," she responded, appearing both flustered and distracted. Andrew got the feeling that she suddenly had no desire for his company. "It is a small problem, but one that needs my immediate attention. If you would excuse--"

Janette's eyes widened as her face managed an even paler tone. A second later, Andrew became aware of the return of a stronger tingle, one slightly more powerful than the guard's had been. Another second and the doorway slammed back as a dark blur blew into the room like a meteor. Andrew instantly found himself pushed back against the far wall and suspended several feet above the floor. He looked down to find himself in the grip of a red-eyed vampire male with very short blond hair---and very sharp looking fangs. 'Enraged madman', the angel decided, was not even close to describing his attacker.

"WHERE IS HE?!!! RETURN HIM---NOW---OR BY THE GODS, I WILL RIP OUT--!!"

"Lacroix!" Janette exclaimed.

"Attend to your business, Janette. I will take care of this," the infuriated assailant spat out a rumbling sound that rivaled that of an adult lion's building from his throat as he bared his teeth even more.

"But, Lacroix," Janette moved to stand just behind the other, yet out of arm's reach. "It is not what you think. Monsieur Andrew was just apologizing to me."

"Apologizing?" The reddish eyes slowly flecked into an amber hue, harsh with suspicion as they burned into Andrew's. "Apologizing?" he hissed, eyes narrowed to slits.

"Ye...ess." Andrew hoarsely managed to squeeze out. He felt himself lowered until his shoes once again rested on the floor. The terrible grip left him, and he rubbed the bruised area, even though it was already fading as his enhanced immune system repaired the damaged tissue at hyper speed.

"So... Ahndrew..." the male vampire drawled the name in a derogatory manner, his hands drawn into such tight fists that droplets of blood were falling from where his nails were cutting into the palms. "You are of an advanced age. Pray tell...what apology can so ancient a one give---FOR KIDNAPPING ANOTHER'S CHILDE!"

Kidnapping?

"I don't understa--"

"LIAR!"

Andrew gulped. Apparently, respect for age meant nothing when a paterfamilias thought you were coming between him and his offspring.

The vampiress inserted herself between the two, imploring the other with her eyes to calm himself.

"Non, mon pere!" she asserted. "Please! The ancient was here in the Raven before it happened."

"Yesss....I heard of that little debacle at his table," her father snorted. "Undoubtedly a ruse while he secreted my son away." He stepped right up into the dumbfounded angel's face, glaring menacingly. "I know who you are....Andrew. And you shall not have him. It is not the time---do you think I could miscount the years? Another three decades by mutual agreement. You're early. Oh yes, I know. You thought I would not complain. I can picture him sitting in his oh-so-mighty high seat, salivating. Thinking to himself that General Lucius is in a weakened position. Discomfited by his own progeny. He will easily concede those years without a fight. Well, he is WRONG! And you can just hike yourself back to Joran and tell that miserable son of a harpy that I said so!"

Once again the other vampire's fangs were right in Andrews face, and this time he felt his own body respond to the challenge. Of their own accord, his newly acquired fangs descended and his vision took on a warm, golden glow; his senses detecting even the most minuscule differences in thermal energy that the broadcasting room provided. Snarling like a Siberian tiger spying a rival, he pushed the male away, sending him stumbling back several feet.

How dare this upstart treat--!

Andrew

The faint rebuff from the spiritual bond Andrew had with his 'sire' was enough to awaken the Angel of Death to the danger and he offered a prayer of thanks to God for stopping him in time. The territorial nature of the vampire had risen up within him, eager for a fight. Human form, human emotions; Vampire form, vampire emotions. He would have to stay vigilant to keep the animalistic side of this body under control.

Feeling more or less himself again Andrew outstretched his hand towards the fallen ancient, offering to help him up, but was not surprised when his aid was brusquely ignored.

"I'm truly sorry," Andrew said despite that, "but I was telling the truth. I don't know what is going on and I certainly had nothing to do with your son's disappearance." He saw that the city Elder did not look very convinced of his words, but what else could he do but try to reason with him?

Help me, Father...

Again the phone rang. Janette lunged for where it had been knocked to the ground like it was a lifeline; hoping that the caller would have news that would keep the visiting ancient from killing her sire or vice versa.

What was Lacroix thinking to openly challenge someone more powerful than himself head on? Janette wondered. Stupid question. She snarled impatiently at herself. The bond she felt with de Brabant as being one of the same bloodline felt dim---almost non-existent. As his sire, Lacroix would be feeling it stronger, but from the way he was acting, it must be very weak to him as well. This could mean only a few things: either Nicholas was unconscious, stuck in one of the trances he had a tendency to slip into ever since the...accident...or he was dying. Yes, it was no wonder the General was in such a feral rage. Only Nicholas had the power to upset him so: the solitary weak spot in his armor. One night, Lacroix's infatuation with that one would get him killed---and by the blood, had not Divia come so close in doing just that? Just what her master planned to do when the Interviewer came for her brother, Janette shuddered to think.

To her relief, the caller had just the sort of news she had been hoping to hear.

"Lacroix---" she happily blurted out, "he has been spotted by the lake and is unharmed. Feliks is with him now, but cannot get him to come home; he refuses to even acknowledge him. He thinks that Nicola left by his own power; his demeanor is the same as always."

The effect over her sire was instantaneous. Within a split second the monstrous visage had changed to that of a concerned parent. He practically tore the phone from his daughter's hand in order to hurriedly speak to the caller.

"Janette, you will stay here and prepare for our return."

"Oiu, mon pere" Janette gave a small curtsey to Andrew, "Monsieur," she added before leaving the room. The night air around Lake Ontario this time of year was very cold and if her brother had been sitting in it for almost an hour he would be thoroughly chilled by now. Not that the cold could harm them, but being warm was psychologically comforting. A hot bath would help bring him around. She would also see to it that several bottles of the Special Reserve---the vintages kept separate from those served to her mortal customers---were warmed to body temperature as well. Even if none of them could coax Nicholas to partake of it, Feliks and the other searchers would appreciate the offering.

A gentle prodding in Andrew's spirit bade him to speak up.

"Monsieur Lacroix, I will be coming too," he said with what he hoped was the right mixture of respect and command.

The Elder regarded him with open displeasure.

"This is not your affair."

"I'm sorry, but I must insist."

Lucien Lacroix, once General Lucius of the Northern territories in the Imperial Army of Rome, Butcher of the Gauls, shrugged his shoulders as if whatever the other did not concern him.

"As the Americans say, 'It is a free country'. However, you will stay clear of my childe or so help me, I will gut you."

Staring into the cold, ice-blue eyes, Andrew did not doubt it for a moment.