A/N Well, I've been trying to get this out for days!

Part 26: Something Wicked…

Toronto: Southern end of Tommy Thompson Park

Monica's group met up with the Enforcer who was holding Nicholas at the broadcasting antennae that crowned Canada's famous CN Tower-once the tallest man-made structure in the world. The ones holding Jenny and herself landed nearby and not in any way that showed a concern for the law of gravity. Fortunately, the structure was equipped with servicing areas so they had something to cling to other than just the metal pole.

The tower's gentle swaying from the winds at this altitude was not a reassuring feeling, Monica decided. She wished they could have landed on something more solid like the observation deck far below; or for that matter, any other part of the Tower actually meant for tourists to stand on. But then it was vastly preferable to zipping through the air at 75mph with nothing at all under her feet.

The angel had to admit that the position they were in certainly afforded a magnificent view of the city and surrounding countryside. Below, the myriad lights from the metropolis were as glistening gems on black velvet, the numerous lights reflecting off of the shoreline of Lake Ontario. If only the situation allowed her and Jenny to properly enjoy the beauty of it.

Kurkan and his escort arrived just seconds later, neither of them even bothering to land, but keeping levitated at a slightly higher level than the others. The Turk appeared to be in a good humor as he also took in the cityscape below them.

"A charming city, Toronto; said to be the pride and joy of Ontario province. I really must come to hunt in her streets more often," Kurkan mused to his prisoners. He pointed out to the southwest where a long, misshapen-shaped peninsula jutted out into the water as if trying to keep the Toronto Islands from wandering out like little children into the deeper parts of the Great Lake.

"Mmmm… yes. Can you feel them, Miss Monica, Miss Jenny?" the Interviewer asked them. "No?" The bald vampire chuckled menacingly. "I bet Nicholas can. So many of our race gathered together in one place. We usually abhor big crowds unless there is plenty of blood to go around: there's too much chance of infighting when the powerful meet together in less than an utterly formal atmosphere." His gaze settled on the angel. "It's the territorial part of our nature, you see, my dear." Kurkan hovered closer so as to caress Monica's neck, delighting in the sound of her rapid pulse and the fear scent pouring of the two women. "You know, your smell reminds me of figs and honeysuckle… a fully matured wine yet still retaining its fresh bouquet. Perhaps I should taste the wares to verify their flavor before I offer them to my guests?"

"Damn it, Kurkan-you promised to leave them alone!" Nicholas growled at him despite the tightening grip of an Enforcer.

The Interviewer gave an exaggerated sigh. "So I did." He flashed his teeth at the fuming knight, levitating over to him. "But I never promised not to let others enjoy them. Which human do you think your friends will prefer? Lord Joran may decide to give one of them as a sort of dowry present to your sire if he adopts you. That means the others will have to share the remaining female."

The string of multi-dialect curses regarding the Turk's probable ancestry that came from the blonde vampire's mouth made Kurkan laugh.

"Language, chevalier, such language, have you forgotten the tender sensibilities of young mortal women? Besides, I believe that last is a physical impossibility for even one of us." He grabbed a fistful of the golden waves and jerked upwards to exhale cold air into the other's face. "Do you know, I have quite decided that even if Joran rejects you as a lowly member of his entourage, that I will ask for ownership myself? I'm sure my master will grant my request for a personal bit of play. What do you think of that, eh, Sir Knight of the Cross?"

"I think your sire let Hunters stake him just to be free of one sick puppy," Nicholas spat out.

"Such a flatterer," Kurkan smirked. "However, that was an inaccurate guess, De Brabant. My dear, departed sire met his True Death not by a pack of insipid human exterminators waving crosses and torches, but by Councilor Joran himself. It was a deed that gained him my loyalty." Letting go of Nicholas, Kurkan dusted off his hands as if they'd been dirtied. "But enough of this tarrying… it is time to proceed on. The others have waited long enough to say their good-byes, and my lord is anxious to obtain my report."

When they landed several moments later between a golden-eyed crowd of vampires and the open waters of Lake Ontario, Monica was not sure if her and Jenny's uncontrollable shaking was due more to being hungrily eyed by over 30 monsters, or from having traveled so many miles through very cold air wearing only leather dresses. The angel sorely missed the heavy coats she and her assignment had been carrying while on their way to the club. Of course the temperature impervious vampires that had snatched them could not have been bothered to bring their cold-weather articles along. What did these creatures care if two humans died of hypothermia? Maybe, she thought dourly, they liked their drinks thoroughly chilled before imbibing.

Looking around at the sea of faces, Monica recognized a few from her short venture into The Raven. There was the waitress Alma, Miklos the bartender, and the owner who had tried to hit on Andrew-Janette, hadn't she introduced herself? Yes, that was the name.

An imposing male Monica didn't recognize seemed to be their leader. He sported a bleached blonde crew cut and tailored clothing that looked very expensive. This strange vampire stepped purposely forward until the Enforcer holding the crusader growled a warning. He stopped, eyes meeting De Brabant's. Ice blue eyes studied her fellow captive for a moment; neither smiled.

"Nicholas?" the silken voice solemnly inquired. De Brabant straightened up as if he was a child about to be reprimanded. The tension in the air was supercharged. Monica held her breath, sensing some emotion pass between the two, but unsure of exactly what it was.

"I'm fine, Lacroix," de Brabant lied, not wanting his sire to do something rash and worsen the situation for Jenny and her angel. The look in his sire's eyes told him his attempt was probably in vain.

"No. You are not."

Greeting done, the master vampire turned on his heel to confront Kurkan.

"My son has been kept hungry and in pain," the Elder accused. "Is that by the High Council's decree?"

Kurkan was not impressed with his adversary's ire, knowing that he had the Elder at a distinct disadvantage. "The whelp's condition is his own fault. I made available what food could easily be procured." He smirked, adding, "Unfortunately, there were no dairy farms nearby to satisfy his baser tastes. As for his other pains-perhaps you would like to take that up with the Enforcers." He chuckled with amusement as Lacroix instinctively backed away a half step from the 'Undead Police Officer' standing beside the Interviewer. "I thought not. I suppose you'll be gratified to know that your precocious cub stood up to their pounding quite well…"

"Nicholas is my son," Lacroix affirmed, a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth showing that he was, indeed, proud of his child's deportment under the duress. (Did Kurkan believe he would have chosen to bring over a weakling?)

"And yet he was not so courageous when-"

"When women and children are threatened by a bully?" the Elder finished for Kurkan, beating him to the punch. "Yes, I know. I admit it is a rather annoying predilection of his-yet charming in its own way." (Lacroix narrowed his eyes. If this cretin thought he could shock him with his son's failings, Kurkan would be sadly mistaken. Had he not been dealing with them for centuries? No, nothing that anyone could say would change his opinion of his Nicholas.) "Where is your master, lackey? I grow bored dealing with underlings."

"High Councilor Joran is coming, never fear. No, I misspoke-you should definitely fear," Kurkan let his fangs drop to their fullest as he raked the Canadian vampires with a scathing stare, "especially if you are thinking to mutiny against his decision. Think hard on this now," he informed them, "for later on if you persist in this show of resistance the only thing you will gain is a stake through the heart."

There arose a murmur amidst the gathered; some rethinking their stand, others outraged at what was being done. One of them strode forward to speak. Lacroix mentally growled as he eyed the approaching vampire-or angel as he had earlier claimed to be. Lacroix told himself that it didn't really matter either way; he just wondered when the noisome fellow had shown up. Out of the corner of his eye the General noted that his son's countenance as well as that of the adult mortal woman had lifted considerably at the new arrival. A pang of jealousy stabbed Lucien. That his son would take obvious heart in this Andrew's presence, was an insult to his status and to his pride. And what was this mortal woman doing here with Jenny Schanke? Or was she human? Miss Schanke he recognized as he had made it his business to find out about everyone his son had had contact with since his unfortunate attempts at independence. Jenny was merely the offspring of that inane police detective his child had once worked with. But this older mortal was a mystery. What was her part in all of this?

Andrew smiled encouragement to Nicholas, then held Monica's eyes with his own, willing her to take heart. After a moment, he turned to address the assembly, standing next to Lacroix. He ignored the look of disdain the General gave him. Lucien's problems could be dealt with later if need be. Right now Andrew had to concentrate on barring Evil from its goal. Smooth and clear, his voice traveled over the gathering.

"Two thousand years ago, a great lie was spoken to one in order to entrap all. The Interviewer speaks of what your fate might be if you decide to act for what is right. He holds up your fears of what might be if you stand against him. But I feel that it would be just as wise to ask: What will you gain if you allow evil to steal entry into your hearts? Think-"

"Enough!"

Kurkan quickly stepped over and roughly grabbed Andrew by the shoulder, pulling him close so that they were standing face to face. He spared a quick glance to make sure that his Enforcer escort was following. Growling, the Enforcer holding Jenny tossed her over to the one in charge of Monica so that he could join his fellow bruiser in flanking Andrew. Satisfied that he had enough backup to cow the stranger, Kurkan smirked at this upstart Ancient.

"I asked you before who you were, Andrew-or whatever your name is," the Interviewer hissed, "but you were disinclined to answer me then. Perhaps now you will feel more moved to tell me where you came from and who sent you. Or would you rather fight with my employees? I assure you they will cool your ardor for trouble making quickly enough."

"Are you afraid to fight me yourself, Kurkan?" Andrew smiled, letting his eyes take on a golden hue.

"No, Andrew-don't do it," de Brabant cried out. "You must stay out of this."

Kurkan glowered at the knight's interruption. He'd been hoping this Andrew would try to take on two Enforcers so he could watch the mysterious vampire ground into the dirt. The old one deserved it for having earlier spoiled his fun with Lacroix and Nicholas at this very place.

"And why must your hapless bodyguard refrain from fighting?" Kurkan sneered at his prisoner. "Is he too weak? Too easily bruised?" Expecting Nicholas to answer, the Interviewer was surprised when another voice spoke up instead.

"Be thankful that he cannot fight you, Kurkan-or he just might use your hide to sweep clean this park."

From Enforcer to near fledgling a rippling shudder ran through the assembled vampires as a tall, dark haired vampire shot down from the air to stand with the chief players of the meeting. A leaden blanket seemed to descend along with the new Ancient: foreboding of coming calamity and pain. The feeling prompted at least one vampire to recall an appropriate quote from the English Bard.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes..." Aristotle whispered uneasily under his breath.

The Canadian vampires stirred restlessly, a few looking inclined to just take to the air and fly away, but black eyes seemed to linger on each one and steal even their desire to flee. They stood together like stone statues before the dark Ancient before them. Even Lacroix-who had known this encounter was coming and to whom it was nothing new-felt constrained to avert his eyes, centering instead on the sickly pallor of his children. Oh yes, Janette remembered Joran. His normally composed daughter was trembling. But that was nothing compared to Nicholas, who appeared ready to vomit onto the wet bank whatever substance his stomach might yet contain.

Monica also felt her gut rebel at the cloying darkness surrounding them. Even the gentle lapping sound of the water just behind her had taken on a sinister caste, like a giant sea creature tonguing its victim's throat. The very air felt oily.

"Bow, everyone," Kurkan demanded as he pompously sneered at the assembled audience, "Bow to the Most Revered High Councilor Joran, Third of the Regency Seats, Judge of the Community-"

"Oh, do shut up, Kurkan," Joran brusquely dismissed his servant as he thrust the bald vampire aside in order to stare at Andrew.

"But-my Lord and mentor," Kurkan knelt down upon his knees, forehead touching the ground. "Your humble learner has done as you asked. Both Nicholas de Brabant, his family and his friends are gathered here together for your pleasure."

"So I can see," Joran snorted, casually nudging his protégé back down with the toe of his boot when the Turk started to rise. "Don't bother to get up, Kurkan. I like you so much better down there at my feet."

"My Lord?" the Interviewer asked, both angered and perplexed at this public humiliation by his master. Had he done something wrong? Forgotten some command?

Joran ignored his humiliated servant as he leered down at Andrew. The latter responded by baring his fangs in challenge.

"My, my...The world is indeed a finite place. Fancy my meeting you again, young Andrew; and at such an occasion as this. Was it not even a millennia ago we met? You do seem to still exude the stench of incompetent youth."

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Jenny was shivering against Monica as they watched a vamped-out Andrew and Joran face each other.

"What is going on!" the teenager asked. "Who's that big guy?"

The caseworker could only shake her head. "I wish I knew," she answered back. Monica had the oddest feeling that she should know the answer, but what with the physical discomfort her human body was in as well as being scared out of her mind... that particular piece of information was proving elusive. Teeth chattering, she closed her eyes and tried to pray. Something soft thudded against her goose-pimpled right arm, and she unthinkingly clutched at whatever it was with her cold fingers before even opening her eyes.

It was a heavyweight, black woolen vest.

Turning her head to the right, Monica saw that De Brabant's upper body was now clad only in the thin, silken poet's shirt, the dark gray material shining dully where the moon's light struck it. He gave her a small nod of his head, eyes flickering towards Jenny before turning back to watch the confrontation. The angel looked away to where the immodestly dressed Jenny was already wrapping the garment around herself like a blanket as she pressed against the angel in an attempt to share body warmth.

"Thanks, Uncle Nick." Jenny gratefully called back to the vampire.

Her words went unacknowledged which prompted Monica to look again to her right. Six feet away, the blond vampire was practically leaning against his uncaring Enforcer guard, his posture slightly hunched over and his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach as if trying to keep it from detaching and falling to the ground at his feet.

So he had given them an extra article of clothing, Monica argued with herself. From what she understood, he didn't really need it-it was only for show, worn to help him blend in with his human prey as he lived amongst them. He didn't feel the cold. He didn't feel mercy or kindness or love and caring. The murderer didn't feel anything at all.

He couldn't possibly.

"Oh, c'mon, Miss Wings. You know that isn't true," Tess scolded as she appeared at her student's elbow. Monica's supervisor gave the oblivious Enforcer holding her friend a disgusted look as she craned her neck up to study his oblivious face. "Goodness... but they sure are growing them big and ugly these days, aren't they?"

"Tess!" Monica whispered in horror.

"Relax, baby," Tess smiled as she read the thought on the other's face, "Goofus here can't hear or see me, so you just listen. You've got Nicholas all wrong, Miss Wings. He isn't one of the bad guys like Mr. Creepy out there chatting with Angel Boy. The child's got a deep sense of responsibility. Why do you think you're still here instead of with the Father?" Seeing her underling's expression hadn't budged an iota, she sighed in exasperation. "Monica, honey, Fang Boy over there could have drained you and Jenny both before his hunger pains went away. And he wasn't exaggerating when he described what it felt like. You think he's pulling an act right now? Angel Girl, De Brabant is using everything he's got by the way of willpower to keep from feeding from anyone here.

"He's a vampire," Monica exclaimed in a strained whisper, afraid of drawing the attention of 'Goofus' yet wanting to defend herself. "He's taken pleasure in ending human lives." Fortunately for her, the Enforcer seemed utterly enthralled by what his superior was saying, so he ignored her words.

Not so her own supervisor.

"He's also a hurting soul," Tess countered with an unhappy look, "whose trying to save your life even while he's facing losing his own-uh oh."

"What?" Monica turned her head to see what had upset the older angel.

"I think our Angel Boy's about to be in trouble."

TBC

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Review Responses:

To: Dr. P.G. Thirteen: (Kyer curses FFN's annoying tendency to make her divider lines and emoticons disappear. In other words, they literally wiped the smile off of my face in answering your last comments. What have they got against all but parentheses? Its bigotry- that's what it is!) My brain was strained at birth and has never recovered.

To: Wanderer D: Wouldn't we all? During the Inquisition you either had to watch your mouth and/or not be so rich that some Inquisitor desired your estate for himself since heretic property went to the Church. For all that I respect God, I would have been burnt at the stake before puberty.

Monica is being a pain mainly because I wanted some more conflict going on. If all the angels acted... like... um... perfect little angels, what fun would that be? For this, Monica got the short end of the stick simply because she used to annoy the heck out of me (like Pollyanna does) and this is my revenge. Hahahahaha! ahem

Kurkan has indeed received an eye opener. Woe unto those who backstab... for in so doing their own rear side is left undefended. He should have gotten that promotion deal in writing. ... Sucker.