Part 25: Gathering Forces

Kurkan's Toronto Abode: Cellar/Current Time

An amber-eyed Nicholas awoke from his dream to find all of the angels gone save for Monica, who had once again hidden her celestial form within that of a simple human female shivering from the cold. Jenny was lightly snoring at his side. Hearing a key being inserted into the door above them, he hastily handed the teenager to the camouflaged angel before struggling to place himself between the women and their captors.

"Ah, de Brabant…feeling poorly yet?" Kurkan tsked at the swaying Brabantian as he and a quartet of Enforcers flew down. The Turkish vampire looked with naked surprise at the obviously still intact Monica whom he had expected to find totally drained. "I see you have refused my offer of a meal. Do you intend to starve yourself? I fail to see the purpose of such an attempt." Circled around the knight, Kurkan illustrated his words with a tap here and a poke there upon Nicholas's torso till his adversary's eyes became flecked with brilliant red. "If he so wishes it, Janor will simply have blood poured down your throat, or..." he finished maliciously, "perhaps an IV tube into the stomach if you prefer to continue such displays of obstinacy."

"Sorry, my fast is spurred by nothing so melodramatic," Nicholas retorted angrily, "it is only that breathing in your stench seems to have curbed my appetite."

His defiant stance earned him a backhanded blow to the face from one of the Enforcers. Precious blood dripped freely from his nose before the mild injury was healed; a fact that the Interviewer noted with a smirk for it underlined the Belgie's weakened state.

"Such disrespect from the young these days," Kurkan sighed in mock disapproval as he gestured for an Enforcer to 'help' the knight back to his feet. (The Enforcer complied by holding the latter's arms twisted behind his back before pulling him straight up.) "However, I suppose it is to be expected considering your pedigree. Lucius always had such abominable manners-one can not expect that he would have taught politeness to his offspring." Cold, black eyes studied smoldering scarlet of Nicholas's eyes. "I give you one more chance to submit to Interview during what time we have left together-reminding you, my arrogant whelp, that it is in both our interests not to test Joran's patience."

Nicholas smirked insolently at him, sorely tempted to release his furious inner beast upon the other vampire. Fortunately, his more logical side knew such an act would be pure folly even if he had been in optimum health-which he wasn't. Still, even though he couldn't risk a direct attack, Nicholas realized that Kurkan must also be under some restraints. Why else had the Interviewer not simply blood raped him if he wanted answers if such an act had been allowed? Could this be Joran's orders? Perhaps he should test that theory.

"Bite me."

The dare issued under the guise of a silly human retort earned him a hungry glare.

"Don't tempt me, de Brabant," the Interviewer scowled, licking his lips in a deliberate manner. Kurkan's own eyes became scarlet as they fixated on the drying blood trailing down the knight's lip and chin. Closing his eyes for a moment, he regained his self control with an effort.

"What's the matter, Kurkan?" his captive sneered back. "Not allowed to play with your master's toys?"

"Oh, don't worry, I fully intend to ask for the privilege of tasting your personal flavor," Kurkan assured him. "A nice slow, drink," he ran his right index finger under the knights left ear, "from right here, I think." With reluctance, Kurkan stepped away. "Until then, I think I will avail myself of the feed you spurned." He smiled wolfishly at Monica, who shrank back against the bricks as if she was contemplating passing right through them.

Perhaps she is, Nicholas thought as his gaze locked with hers-and knew somehow that he had to do something before the frightened angel gave herself away.

"Wait!" De Brabant growled. "I give my word that I'll submit to three questions if you leave the women alone. You know you won't get anything out of me otherwise, Kurkan."

Kurkan stopped, musing that Nicholas's words might unfortunately be true. De Brabant had proved to have a strong tolerance for pain-probably gained under Lacroix's tutelage as Lucius despised weakness of any kind. It was, as far as Kurkan was concerned, the Roman's one saving grace.

"Three questions is hardly a proper interview," he countered.

"You said yourself there isn't any time for the full thing," Nicholas reminded him, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice. "Will you accept or not?"

The elder made a show of mulling over the offer. If only Lucius was here to see his precious warrior-child capitulate so easily to the demands of a 'barbarian'-and for the sake of mere human chattel. He'd just have to recount the whole tale for the pompous Roman when he had the chance.

"Why are you concerned for such fare?" Kurkan asked him. He laughed at a speculative thought. "Chivalry towards your food source, de Brabant? Don't tell me the medieval knight is yet intent on fighting to save his damsels in distress?" The laughter died when he saw the desperate glint in his prisoner's eye. "But you're serious, aren't you?" the Greek, realized with mild astonishment. "By the blood… The rumors are true, aren't they? You drink only animal blood like some filthy carouche?"

His prisoner gave a slight smile, ignoring the insult that he had been brought up that he was an 'inferior' class of their kind; i.e., those first fed on animal blood instead of a human's. "Shall I take that as question number one?"

"Very well," the Interviewer conceded. It was almost time for them to leave anyway. Joran would flay him alive if they were late; while he would be expecting some piece of information from his protégé. "What is your preferred feeding?"

"I'm no carouche, Elder. Drinking bovine is only a personal choice and not a compulsion," Nicholas responded with quiet dignity. "Next question."

As he had expected, the others wrinkled their noses in undisguised distaste at his admission.

"Cow… How vulgar," Kurkan snorted, thinking that Joran would not be pleased by this news. Still, it was an easily correctable bad habit as his master need only force feed the youngster purer vintages until his palate would accept no other. And, perversely, it increased Nicholas's value. If the General desired the Brabantian even with his body polluted by such a vile substitute as animal blood, how much more sweet De Brabant's nectar must be when strengthened by a proper diet. Yes...Kurkan would place that spin on it if need be. The sooner Joran was made happy, the sooner he would bestow on his loyal student the promised gifts.

"Very well, de Brabant, I will ask two more questions which you will answer quickly. Then we will meet Councilor Joran so he may decide on your fate."

"Fine, but let the mortals go," Nicholas suggested. "They aren't of use to you now."

"Don't be ridiculous. They are very useful. Why, their presence has even persuaded Lucius' stubborn pit bull to capitulate to an Interview-if a rather truncated one," the Greek chuckled, patting de Brabant on the cheek. "Now, let's continue, shall we? Time is becoming rather rushed. Second question: What possessed such a 'godly' man as you once were to agree to become a vampire?

"I can't answer that here," Nicholas choked a little, his pale skin becoming slightly pinkish as he looked askance at Monica and his 'niece' in mortification. "There is a lady and a child present."

"Well, who would have guessed that the son of General Lucius is shy," Kurkan chuckled. 'You had your chance, young one. And do not think to lie to me. If you do, our agreement is made void and one of your mortal pets will suffer. Of that you have my word."

Bristling in an attempt to hide his discomfiture, de Brabant closed his eyes as he recounted with as little detail as possible just which mortal failing had set him down this path.

Kurkan smiled at his increasingly embarrassed subject in pleasure. Yes, he was already privy to this knowledge; however, the fact that the knight was obviously loathe to reveal his not-so-pure side for public consumption just made hearing its disclosure all the more delectable. Nothing made the Interviewer feel more powerful than watching others squirm helplessly before him.

He asked his third question-an also previously known incident-just for the satisfaction of getting the same response.

"Louder, Nicholas," he leered. "The ladies are fascinated by how you got the monies to start your charitable Foundation which...isn't it the one that little Jenny and her mother get their financial aid from?"

"Why don't we leave the Schanke's out of this!" Nicholas snarled.

"Have I touched a sore point? My apologies…but do answer the question."

Face pale Jenny gulped several times as de Brabant reluctantly told of his kidnapping a member of the mortal aristocracy with the aid of a human collaborator-all quite literally for a king's ransom in treasure. It had happened in the middle of the 16th Century when he had become enthralled with the idea of procuring great wealth as a way of asserting independence from his master. Exultant at their success, he had then turned on his co-conspirator just for the fun of it, killing the mortal in a decidedly unfair duel.

Monica was aghast. Was this cold-blooded killer the one that her friends had been working so long to help? Why, he was no better than a serial murderer! That such a beast had been allowed to influence this child! Oh, she had accepted Andrew, all right-but he was still Andrew inside. This...creature though...this was a different matter altogether!"

"It all happened so long ago... yet it is something that I deeply regret to this night. Certainly it is not something that I ever intend to do again," Nicholas told Kurkan, though his eyes were fixed on hers and Jenny's as he silently pleading for forgiveness.

"But you did murder… indeed, countless times," Kurkan chuckled, "and the remorse was often only an afterthought at best. As for your use of blood money as a gift, my, my-I begin to see Joran's interest in you: Such lust and deceit."

"I was young and foolish," Nicholas argued back at him, "and, I thought, without much choice if I wanted to stay sane." Again he turned his imploring eyes to the women. "I'm sorry-but what else could I do? The Hunger when you don't feed... you have no idea until you feel it. It is far worse than anything suffered by mortal flesh-the pain is like having a sphere of sharp knives rolling in your gut. I had to feed-the need was too strong and alien for me to control back then."

"But...murder. For money..?" Jenny cringed.

"Yes, Jenny," her 'uncle' agreed. "I once murdered for money and for other not very nice reasons as well. You see, for a long time-I was not a nice person."

Nicholas gave Jenny's ensemble a disapproving look. "I noticed you've gone Goth. Do you imagine that being a vampire would be 'fun', Jenny? To fly and hypnotize and generally get away with things you never could before? Well, it isn't-though none of the Community will tell a prospective 'fledgling' just how difficult our life can be: how you become more of a ravenous animal than a 'superior being' for the first century. Or told not to give a damn for anyone but the Community, because why should you? Can you imagine living that way? Trying to face yourself every night-night after night after night, decade after decade-knowing that you must feed soon or suffer the consequences? Accepting that you can't do without blood?"

Weary, he rubbed his face with his hand. "Oh, Jenny, you have no idea how much I wanted to believe my master's assertions that my guilty feelings would pass. But they didn't go away. I finally thought I could only cope by going ahead and letting my baser self have more control. Maybe my trouble was I wasn't trying hard enough to be 'superior'. I surrendered to the Vampire's urges. But that proved to be a dismal 'failure'. Ignoring the guilt was not a solution for me- the guilt just got worse. So, I forced myself to learn greater control over hundreds of years: to go without for longer, to deny myself with twice the fervor with which before I had let myself slide. It's still not easy, but I won't go back to where I was. And I try to make up for my past. I don't live on that ransom money, Jenny. I only direct my accountant to where the contributions should go, but I don't consider it mine. It's for others' needs only. I won't touch it myself for it would only revert to blood on my hands; however, only my hands would be cursed by holding it again."

Nicholas gently took her hands and smoothed them open with his own, palms up.

"Your hands are unstained by my sin."

"Oh." Jenny said with round eyes. She looked up at him. "Uncle Nick?"

The remorseful vampire held his breath. "Yes, Jenny?"

"I don't think I really want to be a vampire after all."

Her friend bowed his head in tired thanksgiving. He hated to think what Don Schanke's spirit would have to say if he let his daughter slide into temptation. "I'm glad to hear that," Nicholas told her, raising his eyes to meet Monica's in mute challenge. 'We share the same goal, angel. I do not wish her to choose what I am, either.'

Monica was about to reply when a leather collar with the seal of the High Council on it was snapped around de Brabant's neck and he was pulled away into the arms of an Enforcer.

The crude band was to symbolically show to other vampires that an Interviewer had decided Nicholas was a potential property of the ruling Elders and not of his sire- at least until his employer decreed otherwise. It was redundant of course, Joran had all but formally decided on De Brabant as his, but Kurkan enjoyed putting it around Nicholas's neck. Just as he looked forward to the day when Joran would remove the more permanent, but hidden, chain version the Interviewer was obliged to wear as a servant to the Council. Then Joran would loop the pewter sign of a favored slave around the neck of his replacement and Kurkan would join the Council as a member. So Joran had promised him and Kurkan had for centuries loyally kept his side of the bargain by unquestioningly doing as he was told.

The Turk was glad that Joran had finally chosen someone else to wear his pewter.

"Such an interesting discourse," Kurkan smirked, "but alas, it is time to depart."

"Can I take her home now?" Monica asked, rising to her feet.

"Oh, my… tired of dear Uncle Nick's company already, are you?" Kurkan nastily chuckled. "No, I'm afraid you must come along as well. You see, I've decided to invite both of you to a formal gathering. I'm sure at least one of the other guests will have better taste than our knight here. And after all, what kind of host doesn't supply his guests with proper refreshments?"

Toronto: The Raven

Standing on the silent dance floor, the vampires who had been issued 'invitations' by Kurkan, waited for their Elder to come down from his rooms.

Upstairs, Lucien Lacroix got up from his chair and placed his hand upon the metal of a securely shuttered window, his instincts alerting him that outside, shadows were lengthening as the sun touched the western horizon. Dusk was near, and despite all of Merlin's attempt, they had failed to discover where Kurkan had taken Nicholas.

Lacroix was worried sick. Other than a few sporadic spikes of fear and pain coming from their bond, he had not had any news of how his child was faring under Kurkan's not-so-tender mercies.

Shutting the images away to the back of his mind (though he planned to recall them quite clearly when he had the uncouth Vandal's neck firmly grasped under hands and fangs), Lacroix centered his thoughts on more immediate matters.

Soon, he would be fighting the greatest battle of his long life: the fight to regain his son from his long-time enemies. The Interviewer held the backing of the Enforcers and the High Council. The odds were formidable- likely insurmountable. Yet somehow his child had managed to capture the attention of other powers as well.

The Elder sighed, eyeing the emptied green bottle the one called Sam had gifted to him. Such a wealth of knowledge the fragile container had held. How like Nicholas to garner such… interesting acquaintances. Sure, the boy was always getting caught in the middle of extreme forces be they human ideologists or vampire power mongers. Yet now his child had surely surpassed himself in entanglements.

Andrew was not a vampire at all, but a celestial servant of the Jewish Yahweh; his brother 'Sam' professing that satanic beings wanted his protégé as their own.

Angels and Demons; Heaven and Hell.

Powerful allies and adversaries, those. And even if Heaven prevailed-where would that leave him? Would these angels whisk his son away from his true master as surely as these demons intended to do? What did they plan for Nicholas? Lacroix grimaced at the memory of his own crossing over. If he had learned anything during his long life it was that nothing was given for free. There was always a price to be paid and the amount rarely revealed until the reckoning was due.

Was the price of saving Nicholas to be losing him no matter the outcome?

Idle speculation-for which there was simply no more time.

Picking up his jacket, the General went downstairs to join his 'troops'.

"Janette, Aristotle, Merlin, Feliks, Miklos, Alma, Bridgette, Alex, Ian," Lacroix nodded to each of them, noting that like himself all had elected to arm themselves with a couple of wooden stakes and appeared well fed. They were ready to fight.

One minute later, ten dark blurs lifted up from the back alley behind The Raven, setting a southeasterly course. Within moments they had left downtown behind and were passing above the Toronto Islands, their destination an elongated peninsula of land hugging the islands' far side as it stretched out into the shipping channel.

This was the piece of real estate officially named by the city as Tommy Thompson Park, but which the locals had christened The Leslie Street Spit. During the weekends, it was open for non-motorized public recreation-particularly bird watching, as the many inlets hosted bird sanctuaries. However, on weekdays such as now, it was used by construction companies as a place to dump their landfill.

Tonight, its isolated tip was empty of all but sleeping birds as the vampires silently lit down upon the soil to await their 'hosts'. Moments later, they were joined by others, some from the outskirts of Toronto, some still smoking under their protective armor of thick fabric, having driven in from nearby cities or from the airport. Two had come from as far away as Montreal, all were either friends of the family or ones who owed the General a favor. They come to offer their assistance.

Lacroix acknowledged them all. Ten had now swelled to thirty. It was about what he had expected, and before the angels had come, he had been confident it would be enough to challenge Joran's lackeys as well a Joran himself. Now, thanks to Sam's gift... he could only hope it would be.

The tree of Knowledge was bitter fruit indeed.

Heaven: In the Presence of the Father

It is time.

Sam, Adam, Tess, and Andrew stopped their praying and bowed as they stood beside a dozen battle-ready Warriors.

"Father," a huge, red-haired Warrior nervously spoke up, "what should we do if Nicholas fails to outwait J'ranor's patience?" None of his brothers were afraid of the challenge itself, but the specter of another Heavenly War meant that many in all dimensions would suffer its consequences.

The Glory intensified, bathing them all in a warm glow.

It will be well, my angels.

The Warrior Angels looked at each other with restored confidence, then bowed to the Glory and disappeared from Heaven, bound for Earth.

Andrew?

Obedient to the call, Andrew reformed from where he had been about to transport to Earth with his friends. He bowed his head. "Father?"

Evil cannot stand before My Light, Andrew. And the act of receiving is worth much more when the act is willingly returned. Blessed are those that share what they have. Remember that.

Puzzled by the reminder, Andrew nevertheless thanked Him before joining the others already appearing in Toronto's southwestern outskirts.

TBC

Review Responses:

To: Wander D: Why, W.D., don't you recognize the Voice of God when you see it? You some sort of heathen? LOL Yep, that was meant to be the Almighty talking to Nick in dreamland. smiles

Argh…you just had to remind me of another unfinished fic. slams head against keyboard while mumbling against awol muses A famous saying goes that the veneer of civilization is very thin. We are all struggling with our 'beasts' while grasping one handed to the rope of 'humanity'. Some of us manage to hold on for the duration of our lifetimes… some of us slip a bit…. and some totally loose their grip.

And speaking of loosing one's grip…

To: Worker72: Um... Yes. Thank goodness this is just a work of fiction. cough

(Okay, on the off chance any vampire lifestyle humans and they do exist- I saw the Special Report on the news are out there reading this story... for the record, Forever Knight and Of Knight Death are works of fiction and not an attempt to spread false rumors about alternate lifestyles. Let your imagination soar ...and all that. Nuff said.)

To: FuFuMira: I have to spout warnings every now and then because you never know when someone will take something the wrong way. Just look at the rising cases of road rage or reader reviews and you'll get my drift.

Glad you liked the ego/id animal/human scene. I'm not totally happy with it myself as far as word flow, but oh well. It hopefully got the point across that the Vampire is no more evil than any other animal predator and that you have to accept all aspects of yourself if your going to strive to become something better.

To: Dr. P.G. Thirteen: Forbidden Planet is a classic that I have watched a gazillion times. Also watched ST: TOS a gazillion times to the point could quote entire scenes. Beam me up, Scotty. He's dead, Jim. Hailing Frequencies are open, sir. I'm A Doctor Not A...

Save my creative juices? As in there's a shortage? I think I've just been flamed! gasps