7/24/09: 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 16: The Enemy Within

As the laughter reverberated in the air, the darkness slithered over and around him, like a serpent of thought inspecting its prey.

"And who do we have herrre?" it asked.

Andrew felt the hairs on his neck bristle at the sound which seemed both female and male somehow. "Who are you?" he asked it, seeing nothing but...well, nothingness. Was this another memory or something worse?

The voice chided, "We asssked firrrst."

"Very well, I'm Andrew," he warily answered, "a friend of Nicholas."

More laughter that was menacing and unsettling as it mocked the angel.

"Frrriend?" the voice snickered, "Nicholas has no frrriends."

"What do you mean?" Andrew shivered, not liking this at all. "He has lots of friends."

The feminine side rose in dominance, cackling with glee, "Not after I--!" it began, then changed timber as it admonished itself, "WE neverrr forrrget we." It then reverted as the angel first heard it: monosexed, affirming to itself, "We arrre. We ssshall surrrvive. Here. Fitting. Revenge. As I said."

Andrew cleared his throat to get its--their?--attention back.

"Still here, are you?" The disembodied voice took on a prim attitude as that of a snobbish teacher. "Vampires do not make friends. They make associations, family members, and...meals. Which arrre you? Why ask it that? It's just a meal, a snack, a 5-liter refreshment in Loafers. Orrr sssneakerrrs. True. Yess, we arrre always rrright. The remnants of a meal it is. So long since a decent one. Ourrr influence? Flatterer."

"A friend," Andrew reaffirmed to the disembodied voice, getting annoyed now as well as afraid of the insane chatter.

"Insistent isn't it? Yesss...we think ssso. But amusing. Forr a passsing mealll. Much better than cow memories, this. Tell us, friend Andrew, what are you doing here?"

"Trying to help Nicholas..." he began, only to be cut off.

"Trying to help? Trying..." the voice dissolved into laughter. "Fool. Yesss, we agree. Fool! Oh, but wait---trying to help do what? Yesss...what?"

"Return to God---Father Jehovah---the true Master of his soul."

The sniggers swiftly changed into a long, drawn out hiss, rich with loathing. "Not amusing! NOT! And he held so much prrromissse. A pity. But still a fool. Yesss, still a fool. We agree. He isss of no consssequence."

Struggling to understand the voice (voices?) Andrew felt another chill go through him. "What do you mean? Explain! Who are you?"

"Shall we?" the voice conferred with itself. "Oh, why not...it may be amusssing. Yes..do it!"

The blackness shattered, rearranging into a mosaic of black and gray images, as with poor grades of digital photos. People talking, shouting. Now what was happening? Concentrating, Andrew recognized...

Detective Knight watching an exorcism as part of a case. The possessed man suddenly stared at him, declaring "You are MINE!"

De Brabant in the Raven, first kissing then throttling a female vampire before being interrupted by La Croix, who sets the vampiress free while praising his son for coming back into the fold.

"Please help me, La Croix. I can't control myself."

"Good. Although a little more discretion might be in order."

"Something's happened. Something terrible. It was an exorcism. It wasn't mine, but I was there. Something happened. I think the demon came into me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Nicholas. It is merely your true nature coming into form."

"No!"

"Listen to me, Nicholas. There are no such things as demons and devils."

His son continued to plead with his sire to take him back to the exorcist before he was destroyed by it.

The disembodied voice broke in as the scene momentarily froze. "La Croix was alwaysss so serious. Not like Nicholas---such passssion, such pathosss, such...lovely anguish. A pity Vanderwal cut the fun short. And that woman. Oh, yesss... herrr."

Andrew frowned in confusion. He decided to just watch the 'movie' as the voices seemed to want.

De Brabant was strapped to a table with La Croix close by as the exorcist; Dr. Max Vanderwal--an ex-communicated priest turned exorcist talked to him:

"Yes, I suppose it could be possible after all," the human mused aloud. "You see, the Devil doesn't just go away. He always seeks refuge. Usually, in the conflicted---those who wage war with themselves. It's this inner turmoil that opens the door in which the demon may enter. You don't want to believe any of this do you?" he noted, seeing the look on the other's face.

"My thoughts on the matter are irrelevant." the Roman refuted him. "I'm merely indulging Nicholas."

"Look, whether we speak literally or figuratively, God and the Devil reside in each of us. The question is," the exorcist rhetorically asked, "which one of them is motivating us."

"Are you going to do this or not?!" the vampire father groused.

"Which one?" Vanderwal emphasized the question, turning back to his patient. "Nicholas. Look at me. Is that you, Nicholas?

"Yess," hissed an unworldly sound from the bound knight's throat.

The exorcist frowned down at him, clearly not convinced. "Why don't I believe you? What is your name?"

"I am the ssson of Belial."

Stepping away, the ex-priest conferred with the older 'man'.

"The demon in him is very powerful. I need your help, Mr. La Croix."

"This is all nonsense," the Ancient sneered, yet looked worriedly at his son, forced to acknowledge that something was seriously amiss with his favorite child.

"And yet you are here," Vanderwal pointed out to him. "Because you feel compelled? Grief? Are you responsible for his turmoil? Did you open the door to let the Devil into him? The Devil you tried so hard to dismiss? Help me. Help him," the former priest half pleaded, half commanded.

A torn look from Lacroix told his answer before the words did.

"I can't."

"He knows you," Vanderwal persevered, "he trusts you. That may be the only thing, for at the end, we may lose him."

Sick laughter from the table:"He iss alrrraeady llost Nicholas belongsss to mee. He iss miine. He no longer needsss you, Luciuss."

The nasty taunt provoked La Croix into revealing the Vampire as he hotly contested with what appeared to be Nicholas, yet was not. "He is my creation--- my son! I won't let you take him from me!"

"You, too?" The exorcist gasped.

Displeased with his lack of control, the General growled back, "Yes."

"No wonder you try so hard not to believe. To admit the Devil is to admit God, and yet, you see both before you."

"You are weak, La Croix," the demon crowed in delight. "Nicholass iss weak. You have not power over me."

Curious, Vanderwal asked, "What made you choose this one, demon?"

"De Brabant hasss been many people," the demon replied with relish. "All of them, killerss. But insside he iss resstrained by some sssickening moral conssciencce. He wantss to destroy again. Oh...Nicholasss and I will make a fine pair. He has grrreat potential." It loosed a demented chuckle. "I have revived, revived the vampire'ss tasste. I have revived the vampire'ss tasste for death. All this goodness in him, it hass been driven out. I will be with him forever!"

"Fight, Nicholas!" the General commanded his child.

"Thiss iss not your fight, La Croix. You are one of usss. You belong to usss."

La Croix ignored it, reaching for the Nicholas he knew.

"Listen to me, Nicholas. There is good in you! There is God in you! Use it!"

("Sssickening," Andrew heard his host's voice mutter near his ear. "And then that morrrtal trrrollop ssshowed up.")

A woman with brunette hair burst in upon the scene seconds after the demon managed to break the bonds that kept it on the table. The demon used Nicholas' body to thrust her against a wall, poised to bite.

"'Nick?" The woman looked scared--- something that Andrew could hardly blame her for as Nicholas's fangs came close to her jugular vein.

The woman strove to remain calm as she spoke to him, "Nick, don't. It's me. Natalie."

Stumbling away from her, Nicholas gulped for air.

"Nat? Where?" De Brabant spotted the priest and stammered, "Dr. Vanderwal, what...?"

"It is gone," the exorcist assures him. "Nicholas, you're back. You're back."

The brunette, Natalie Lambert, looked between them and La Croix, clearly unsure of what they were doing. "Oh, my God, Nick. What happened?"

Dr. Vanderwal smiled at her through his exhaustion as he answered, "For the Devil to be driven out, my dear lady, one must first believe that God has not abandoned his soul. Torn as he is by good and evil, Nick does have faith.. Mr. La Croix, your acceptance of that helped to save him."

"I did what was necessary to reclaim him," Lacroix looked about, clearly uncomfortable and just wanting to get out of there.

"Yes. Of course you did." the ex-priest agreed with a disappointed air.

"You see! You see, Andrew?!" the voices angrily proclaimed as the images reverted back into nothingness. "Such a wassted opportunity. Although...We did manage to rrreawaken his thirrrst for human blood, didn't we? And it worked out ssso well. Not well enough. Oh, don't complain! My turn!"

The images reformed.

A room that was clearly, a warehouse loft converted into an open-style living area. It was sparsely furnished with a Harley motorcycle and grand piano in one corner by a large sliding door. A massive, wood fireplace mantel looms over a gas-powered pit, its surface decorated with 3-D carvings of gnomes and a Chinese dragon. In the center sat a black leather couch and a coffee table along with a large entertainment center. A small, but tidy kitchen was to one side. Windows with industrial strength security blinds. Two sets of stairs lead to an upper room. Against the wall, stacks of paintings with an easel holding up the latest offering patiently waiting to join that collection: a fiery red and yellow sun motif.

De Brabant's home, Andrew theorized, and not very long ago either, from the modern looks of the entertainment devices.

His hypothesis was borne out when the blond-haired vampire slid open the lift doors and walked inside, peeled off his long, dark, outer jacket and threw it unto the couch as he snatched up a remote. A click started the fireplace going; warm flames for a cold room.

Suddenly he froze and looked up at the staircase. A young girl---maybe 14 or 15 years old---in a black leather outfit was regarding him with a chilling smile...

"Divia...?"he queried the intruder.

She acknowledged his guess with a slight incline of her chin.

"Lucius told you about me. How I made him mine as Vesuvius tried to snuff his life out. How he repaid me by 'killing' me when all I asked for was...a show of affection." She stalked towards him; a bipedal feline on the hunt. "You know why I'm here."

Nicholas swallowed, but stood his ground.

"You've come to kill me," he said with false calm, "your vow to murder or drive away everyone close to him."

"Don't take it personally, but you are La Croix's son: his favorite. Your death will be the final blow. After this, he will have no one but me." She smiled sweetly at him, an angelic face infused with demonic madness. "It will be worse for you if you try to fight me. But that's up to you. Ready?"

As Nicholas stood there in shock at this display of callous evil, Divia struck at his head then easily tossed the much larger vampire over the couch where his right hand landed in the fireplace and caught fire. Quickly pulling off his jacket to extinguish the flames, he was too busy to see his 'grandmother' leap on top of the coffee table in order to viciously kick him with a booted foot. De Brabant staggered backwards, only to have Divia fly behind him his burnt and bleeding form. Fangs bared, she bit deeply into his throat as he screamed in agony at the assault of her teeth and injected memories. Then she left him, mangled and prone on the carpet, his head resting atop the fallen picture of the sun.

Utterly still.

"Sstupid of uss not to make ssure he wass truly dead," the voice intoned. "We bit him. He was as good as dead. Sshould have been! Yes... nasty awakening that."

"How so," Andrew asked, trying to hide his horror now that he knew who these were: the spirit of Divia and the demon Legion. Somehow they were still aware in the lower psyche of their only surviving victim. They must have entered through Divia's tainted fluids after she'd bit Nicholas. It gave the term 'blood poisoning' a whole new meaning. Poor Nicholas! Was he even aware of what had happened to him-- of these loathsome parasites lurking within?

"De Brabant," the voice spat out in answer to the angel's voiced question. "We had Lucius in our grasp, weak and defeated by the knowledge of our...activities. Ready for usss to deliver to Hell! But he was suddenly there---this mewling spawn of Lucius, this medieval anarchism of chivalry! ----destroying our body and keeping La Croix from coming to our aid when we asked for it! Damn him for that! And damn Lucius for choosing him over hisss daughter!" Throaty snarls unlike the sounds of any feline devised by God. "But we have won, haven't we? We exissst within! Growing stronger! And Nicholas shall pay an eternity for his crimes. And ssuch crimes! He rejected us! He lived! Defiance of my will!" the separated voice screeched in unison. "Yesss...revenge isss ssweet. And torture ssso pleasssurable!"

The combined voice shouted, so loud Andrew had to cover his ears.

"NNNIIICCCHHHOOOLLLAAASSS! COME!"

A ball of blackness formed within the Darkness, its shape writhing as if something was held inside and trying to break free. A length of shining metal burst through, hacking away, until a very disheveled 13th Century-garbed Nicholas de Brabant was violently spewed out to tumble on the 'floor'. Well, 13th Century with the exception of the metallic restraint from the room at the Raven. Rolling over to regain his footing, the knight swung his broadsword around in an erratic circle, unruly hair flying about his desperate face.

"Démons! Choses de Vile! Qu'avez-vous fait maintenant? Combat honorablement! Faites- facemoi!"

("Demons! Vile things! What have you done now?! Fight honorably! Face me!")

A wisp of darkness wrapped around the metal band and bit of titanium chain encasing his torso, viciously tugging him around until he fell on his knees. Blue eyes glistened with pain when an invisible force knocked his head back as if he had been backhanded. He panted hard, only one arm stubbornly keeping him from falling totally on his back.

"Is that 'facing' enough? Aaahh, de Brabant....how good of you to join our little Tête a-Tête," the voice smirked.

Groaning, Nicholas nevertheless shot back, "I...won't...let...you...have me."

"Poor, Nicholas..." the feminine side crooned as the dark shape caressed his bruised cheek. He tried to pull away. "Oh..does it hurt? Let grandma make it all better. Give all of yoursself to usss. Why fight it? Why, sssuffer? Everyone you loved is dead anyway. You killed them."

"No!"

"Is this the champion of Honor and Truth speaking?" the voice cruelly laughed. "Shall we show your latest victim more of your prior selves? How you killed your very wife upon your wedding night?"

The knight's eyes widened and then shut in private pain as the memory of a splendorous 16th Century wedding in Austria was replayed for them: Nicholas in white clothing joined to a golden-haired beauty that would have made Aphrodite jealous.

"Alyssa..." the knight groaned.

"She adored you. Her gentle man of a husband-to-be." the voice giggled as the woman walked with her new lord, adoring eyes never leaving his.

"Stop...."

"Oh, but you weren't a man were you, Nicholas, as she soon found out on your bed. Yet ssstill the little fool trrrusted you, even when you ssshowed herrr what ssshe had trrruly trrrusted herrrssself to. Trusted you--"

The woman fainted in her lover's arms as she was drained in their wedding chamber.

"Stop it! Please..."

"..to know what you were doing---a vampire trying to rebound from the rejection of his lady love just 30 years earlier. She was to be your new and faithful wife; you, her loving husband and master. How could ssshe know that you had neverrr trrried to bring acrrrosss anyone beforrre?"

A distraught de Brabant, cradling his dead lover, begging her to come back to him, but she didn't stir.

"Alyssa..."

"Dead by your incompetence. And she wasn't the last was she?"

"No..." the knight hugged himself, sobbing, "no..."

"LEAVE HIM ALONE, IN THE NAME OF JEHOVAH!"

Screaming like a banshee, the vile blackness retreated from the knight as a Andrew ran over to stand protectively over the huddled being. The angel's body was covered in a feeble blue glow shielding him against the encompassing darkness, he pointed an accusing finger at it, voice shaking in righteous anger.

"How dare you torment him this way. You have no right to judge!'

"Right?! RIGHT?!" the voice screamed back. "We have every right! We were here firrsst! It is you who intrude! By what right doesss an Angel of Him interfere--- and an Angel of Death at that? You are far too late to claim him!"

Intent as he was on confronting the demons, Andrew failed to see the look of horror that filled de Brabant's face as he stared up at Andrew, his mouth soundlessly forming the question: Angel of Death? Grabbing his sword, he scuttled far enough away to gain his feet and took off before Andrew could say anything to explain.

The angel groaned. Terrified of death, Nicholas would not easily listen to him now.

Turning his back on the demonic blackness, he raced after the de Brabant only to run into an invisible wall.

"Angelll of God," the voices ranted behind him, "leave! We havvve played by the rrrrullles---His own rrrrrules! Nicholass iss ours."

Frustrated at losing sight of Nicholas yet again, Andrew banged his fist against the barrier so hard his 'body' actually jumped up a few inches from the force of the blow. Whirling he confronted the Evil.

"I have had it up to here with this! What right are you claiming?" He watched warily as the Darkness circled him, keeping a healthy distance from his muted glow.

Despite his fear-numbing anger, Andrew wished God's light could shine a bit more brightly. Legion was a strong compilation of demons while Divia was another brand of horror.

"This time we entered a vampire asss isss allowed." the Darkness began. "Divia's madness freely let usss in.! Through her, we entered Nicholas. There is NOTHING in the agreement that says a vampire must agree to an entering by another vampire. Vanderwaal cannot remove us thiss time! Not even HE has the right to oust us now. You can not call on that name to do so.!"

"Agreement..." Andrew crossed his arms, determined not to budge until he understood everything. "Tell me about this agreement."

Loud cackling filled the darkness.

"Angel--- you do not know? It isss an agrrreement nearly asss old asss Man himssself."

"Really? Tell me of it."

"Why ssshould we?" the demon taunted. "Go assk your masster. Leave usss to what iss oursss!"

"No," Andrew told it. "You don't own de Brabant. You may be parasites within him, but he has not given in to you. You don't own him, otherwise..." he paused as the truth of his thought sank in. "I couldn't be here."

"Not yet," the voice sourly agreed. "But it isss only a matter of time. And we have plentyof that." It giggled gleefully at the frowning angel. "We will own him fully thisss time. Then what carnage we will loosssen! The blood will run freely and Man ssshall fall as an empty corpsse. Earth will belong sssoley to our kind!"

"We'll see about that," the Angel of Death confidently stated, as he called upon the Glory of his Father to allow him to break through the demon's invisible wall. The blue glow around him brightened as he was able to move forward. Gasping as he emerged from the other side, Andrew looked in dismay at where he was.

A sterile jail cell.

Review Answers:

Tracey: Some like 'em, some don't. What's a writer to do? –smiles- I honestly thought about culling some of them, but then remembered that what I write is all some readers will know of Forever Knight. Sure it can be boring for those who saw the series. The flashback's are for those who haven't—and in the above case, explain part of the plot. It would be like trying to explain American culture without delving into American History. You now know why Nicholas has not gotten better despite the earnest attempts of family and friends.

All I can say is if you don't like them.... Scan through the paragraphs or stop reading altogether. Because I still have at least Last Knight to do. I think that's the last one, but I'm still editing and it's been two years since I've read the original copy.

Alynna Lis Eachann: Lacroix is one of those people you have to get to know first before you develop at least a grudging liking for him. Or, at least respect. It was interesting during the first season that we saw him only through Nicholas's wounded psyche. Later, we saw why LC acted the way he was. Bit of a spoiler... Joan will show up again later and not in a flashback.