Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Forever Knight (though if I did, things would have turned out differently!), they are property of Sony/Tri-Star and I am merely borrowing them and promise to put them back relatively unscathed when finished with them. No copyright infringement is meant and I incur no financial gain by the posting of this story. It is merely for entertainment purposes only.
Detective Kayla MacInnis (amid other characters introduced herein), and The Wyvern, however ARE mine and I will personally tear the throat out of anyone who dares steal them.
This takes place several years after 'Last Knight'
That said, and with upfront apologies to all Nick-and-Nat-packers (just wait till the end of the story till you flame me, please), enjoy the story.
Das Vampyre
Under the Wyvern's Wing
Chapter Four
The Wyvern
A pair of guff looking bouncers stood as sentinels in front of the club from whose interior thudded the dull thrum of alternative techno music. And bore the moniker of "The Wyvern" in wrought-iron traditional Gothic style lettering in company with cut-out image of the self-same named winged serpent above the windowless double doors.
One man was built like a sumo wrestler and solid as the brick wall he stood by and looked like he could spit nails should the need arise. The dour, sullen expression that lined his face melted to a friendly smile when Kayla strode up and he cracked a warm smile over the diminutive Detective who by all appearances he could squish with about as much compunction as an elephant to an ant. "Hey, Mac!" He called jovially, and offered her a hasty wave to the front of the line extending from the club entrance. "Long time, no see." He regarded Nick curiously. "Not here on business, I hope?"
With a negative shake of her head she retuned the smile and friendly embrace that was offered her by the massive bouncer. "Not this time, Butch. Just a friendly social call." She gestured to Nick. "This is my new partner, Nicola."
The bouncer, Butch, gave him a visual once-over and smiled, a bit more reserved, but friendly none the less. "Any friend of Mac's is fine by us." He shook Nick's hand with a bear-paw of a hand, and then returned his full attention to the red-head. "By the way, Mac, He's been asking after you. You shouldn't stay away so long." He chuckled, a sound akin to the rumble of a small earthquake. "He gets jealous, you know." He tilted his bulbous, bald head back over his shoulder. "Go on in. Good to see you again."
The interior of The Wyvern was dimly lit with multi-colored recessed lights and the glint of spotlights on mirrored balls flashed on the floor and black walls of the club. Nick was instantly struck by how much it resembled The Raven. Down to the undeniable and distinctive presence of members of the Community, it was almost unnerving.
Several vampires, unknown to him, but genuine, called out greetings to Kayla she wove them a path through the dancing throng to the expansive ebony and brass bar at the far end of the club. There, the bartender, a raven-haired vampire, flashed a toothy grin. "About time you decided to show up again, Mac. He almost put out an APB on you." He offered a knowing glance and smile in Nick's direction.
"Then he should learn how to pick up the phone and call a body if he's really worried." She muttered airily taking up a deserted barstool and leaning on the polished brass handrail. "Shouldn't he, Dante?"
Dante smiled indulgently, clearly he and Kayla had engaged in this banter before. "Best you take that up him personally, Mac." He casually passed a white cloth along the bar in front of her. "The usual for you then?"
She shook her head in the negative. "Surprise me with something different."
Dante shrugged and chuckled. "You're the boss." He cast an appraising eye to Nick. "And what will it be for you?"
Nick gave a noncommittal shrug. "A glass of wine would be fine." He responded. "Red." Dante nodded curtly and vanished momentarily to retrieve the drinks. In the interim, he regarded Kayla with open curiosity. "You're well known here." He remarked with just a hint of amusement. "You don't strike me as the type to frequent a place like this."
"I'm full of surprises." She offered in an uncharacteristically sultry purr as Dante passed them two drinks.
The tone of her voice surprised Nick more than even he wanted to admit.
"He knows you're here, Mac." Dante muttered in a low whisper. "He'll be down to see you in a bit."
"Did you tell him I'm annoyed with him then?" She teased taking a delicate sip from the drink proffered her. "Wolf's Blood?" She pondered aloud with a lightly raised eyebrow. "That is a surprise."
"But of course, my dear." A silky smooth voice Nick was all too familiar with purred from behind them. "I would never have you served a second-rate beverage."
It made Nick feel physically ill when he took note of the smile that suddenly graced his partner's face as she drew her glass up to her lips again and take another small drink.
"Maybe not second-rate drinks, Lucien, but certainly second-rate consideration for friends you are supposedly concerned about." She intoned in a sarcastic jibe, turning slightly on the barstool to regard the ancient, fair-haired vampire.
Lucien LaCroix offered his trademark caustic smile and a look of mock-wound. "You cut me to the core, my dear." He muttered dramatically. "Surely there is something I can do to make a mends." He captured one of her hands and with a flourish of noblesse oblige pressed a kiss to the back of it. "But I could reflect the same to you, Kayla. It's been far too long since you've graced this establishment. I do not respond well to such an affront." When he rose from his impromptu bow to regard her more fully he caught sight of Nick and offered the ghost of a truly wicked smile to him. The impact of which was lost on Kayla. "Not here on business, I hope." He purred as he took a recently vacated barstool behind her, one hand resting possessively on her shoulder.
Kayla actually tittered like a schoolgirl. "Hardly." She scoffed. "I can't drink on duty. No, this is purely a social call."
"Excellent!" LaCroix cooed, taking a proffered glass from Dante. "And to what do I owe the honor?"
She shrugged. "Showing my new partner my haunts, maybe." She offered by way of explanation. "Lucien, I would like you to meet my new partner, Nicola..."
"We've met." Nick cut her off somewhat more tersely than he had intended, and instantly regretted his tone for her reaction.
"Oh?" She queried with raised eyebrow and a glance over her shoulder to LaCroix.
"It's been a few years." LaCroix muttered smoothly, not missing a beat, and extended a hand to him as though they really were old friends. "Always a pleasure, Nicholas."
Nick took the proffered hand of his master as one would a dead fish and shook it thusly, under the intense scrutiny of Kayla's curious gaze. His own eyes fixed on the older vampire.
There was a moment or two of uneasy silence between the trio, punctuated by the backbeat of an alternative ballad.
"You really shouldn't be such a stranger, Kayla." LaCroix suavely purred, a little too close to her neck for Nick's comfort, though he knew his master was far too tactful to make a scene like what he imagined. "You've been missed here."
"Though obviously not by you, Lucien." She shot back with a mild and good natured barb.
Her neutral expression told Nick more than he wanted to really know. She was playing with fire – and she knew it. Unbidden, a name came to mind. 'Fleur!' He actually felt himself go cold with the memory. The sudden, sharp stab to his memory, the history between his beloved sister and his master was brought all too clearly. Briefly his head actually spun.
The look of brazen, arrogant triumph that flickered, if even briefly, across LaCroix's face told him as well, that was precisely the memory the master vampire wanted to evoke. The ancient vampire took in a deep breath – savoring the aroma of a phantom scent – and offered what could only possibly have been considered a sneer in Nick's direction – an expression that, clearly, Kayla was oblivious to. "The perfume you're wearing, my dear." The ancient vampire drew in another deep breath to punctuate his statement, "is simply," a brief but pregnant pause, "intoxicating."
To the casual observer, one would have thought nothing of the discourse between them. But to Nick it was akin to rubbing salt in a wound. He was about to launch into a subtle, albeit blunt tirade, on his partners behalf, when a young member of the Community approached and plucked Kayla's free hand away from the bar to press a kiss to the back of it.
The young man's appearance, to Nick at least, conjured images of none other than Rasputin. He offered Kayla a sloe-eyed smile and bowed courteously, if somewhat exaggerated. "I hope you didn't intend on monopolizing Miss MacInnis all evening, LaCroix." His voice was a slow, seductive purr of a predator on the hunt.
On the barstool, Kayla shifted slightly, but clearly uncomfortably under the intense raptor-like gaze that was fixed upon her and a nervous tick at the corner of her lip belying the sudden air of unease that she emitted like a cloud.
Even LaCroix didn't miss it. "I leave the monopolization up entirely to the good detective, Milos." The ancient vampire offered little more than a sneer and a cautiously raised eyebrow to the dark-haired interloper. "And it is entirely at her discretion." Therein lay a thinly veiled threat.
Milos offered a casual roll of his shoulder to LaCroix, hawk-gold eyes locked on Kayla like she was a savory side-dish. "I think that's for her to decide." He intoned somewhat acerbically. That was all it took to break the tentative spell of mesmerization that Kayla was held in. She visibly flinched, drawing her hand away, if only slightly, from Milos. It was a swift, definitive action, even if it was, for the most part, involuntary.
It was a tone that was ill-advised of a fledgling when dealing with the likes of LaCroix.
The fair-haired vampire's reaction was immediate. His hand was on the young fledgling's wrist in less time than it took to blink, and the snarl that graced his lips and tone left no room to brook argument. "I believe it has just been made abundantly clear that she is not interested, Milos." His voice lowered an octave as he growled in the young mans ear. A golden hue lit his eyes, which were thankfully, at least to Nick's mindset, concealed from Kayla's view, as he glared the younger vampire down.
It didn't take long for Milos to quail under the intense gaze of the elder who held him in the regard of no higher than maggots – and that would have been saying something positive for LaCroix's feeling towards the fledgling. But, the brash youngster wasn't of his creation and so of precious little concern to him; save where Kayla MacInnis was involved. Then, as far as fledglings were concerned, in his eyes, all bets were off.
The young vampire snarled softly and backed away, blending into the suddenly faceless masses swirling around the club. LaCroix was, apparently, mollified, as he turned Kayla to face him. "Ever the annoyance, n'es pas, ma petite?" He cooed smoothly, taking her freed hand and gently pressing his lips to the back of it. "My most sincere apologies, Kayla, I assure you, I will not happen again." He said it as much to reassure Nick as the clearly shaken detective.
Kayla shook her head slightly, clearing away the last of the cobwebs that hung on her mind. This action seemed to perturb LaCroix immensely and he glared in the direction Milos had vanished into. Nick couldn't immediately fathom the reason. Then a possible explanation hit him; she was what the Community referred to as a 'resister'; one who could not be easily mesmerized, and yet had seemingly been.
Nick gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Kayla? Are you alright?"
She shook her head again and nodded faintly. "Gotta watch those weird drinks, I guess." She muttered softly and cast wan eyes over to an equally perplexed looking Dante. "More likely it's the shots they gave me at the hospital." She offered an apologetic smile to the bartender. "Nothing personal, Dante." She leaned slightly against LaCroix's shoulder. "I think I need to go home now..." Her last statement was little more than a soft whisper against the ancient vampire's shoulder.
Silent, and suddenly very stoic, LaCroix inclined his head ever so slightly to her. He spoke softly, almost tenderly, in Gaelic, guarded words that even Nick couldn't catch, but whose meaning was clearly a balm on Kayla's nerves – for she issued a soft, comforted sigh and sank slightly against him. He turned an intense, icy gaze to Nick. "I don't think I have to impart to you, Nicholas that this young woman is under my protection." There was no thin veil on this implied threat. Between these two there was no need for such pretense. "I would have another take her home, but there are few here that I trust enough with her safety in this state. And I can hardly leave the club right now." His tone took on a hard edge. "You know not to let me down, Nicholas."
The unspoken request was met with a sullen nod and hard gaze. Nick couldn't tell who he was more annoyed with at the moment; Milos, LaCroix or Kayla. But it hardly mattered. LaCroix knew him too well. Knew he would put aside their personal differences and putting the welfare of his partner first and foremost.
In that same stoic silence he gathered Kayla up to him and offered LaCroix another barely discernible nod. Having gently laced her arms over his shoulders and tucked her head securely in the crook of his neck, he hefted her into his arms, and weaving through the throngs that writhed on the clubs dance floor navigated out the door and to the waiting car.
It occurred only briefly to Nick that he had no notion where Kayla lived, and the glassy-eyed expression that met his anxious look did little to reassure him of her wellbeing. But a quick glance into her wallet for an address and a few wrong turns planted them under the corrugated metal awning what looked like an old warehouse. There, he gave momentary pause, wondering if he was in the wrong place, but the incessant barking of a dog and the flicker of recognition that glittered in the depths of Kayla's eyes told otherwise.
He glanced up at the sky as he gently lifted his partner's unresisting frame back against him. Dawn would be cresting soon and a part of him knew there was no way he could get back to his own loft in time.
As if reading his thoughts, Kayla muttered from the crook of his neck. "Don't worry, I've plenty of room and you're more than welcome to stay. I'd actually," she faltered slightly, "appreciate it if you did...if you don't mind..." The sensation of her breath of his neck made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and an unfamiliar shudder to course down his spine.
He was about to mutter a declination of her offer when he was set upon by a black ball of fur and teeth that yelped joyfully at his mistress' return.
Kayla waved a dismissive arm to the black German Shepherd. "Oh pipe down, Raleigh!" Her hand made contact briefly with the dogs' snout; softly, playfully. "Worry wart!" She chuckled softly. It was enough of a cue for Nick to know that she was ready to at least attempt to stand on her own two feet. A task he was grateful, if a bit begrudgingly, lent himself to. She managed to gain her feet, however wobbly, and still relied on his shoulder and arm for support. "I told you he gets suspicious." She reached down a hand and ruffled the fur between the canine's upright ears.
Raleigh, a coal black Shepherd with moderate white markings and wolf-like gold eyes, for his part, the dog regarded Nick with only mild interest. A slowly wagging tail and a moderately suspicious snuff in his direction were all that were granted him before the dogs full attention was on the ear scratch that Kayla offered.
The dogs name suddenly struck Nick. It was the same name he had given a cur that had shared his company decades ago. A creature that found it within its own heart to share the company of a vampire with little regard for his nature and was just happy for the fresh meat, and a warm, dry place to sleep. The same dog that he had been forced to hunt down and slay himself after LaCroix, ever his envious self, led the dog to a caroche – a sub-vampire that subsisted on the blood of animals only and were regarded by the Community as a whole as little more than a blight on an otherwise affluent species.
He only allowed himself to get lost in the memory for a moment. He helped Kayla up a flight of dimly lit stairs and up to a heavy steel door on a landing. An illuminated keypad beside the door was more or less the only source of light at the end of a long gloomy hallway. She leaned over and punched in a sequence of eight numbers, not really taking any great pains to conceal them from his sight. A soft, dull click from within the workings of the door and she pushed it on its sliding rollers.
Raleigh yelped with glee and bolted on ahead, his claws clattering out an uneven tattoo on hardwood flooring. Kayla groaned in mock annoyance and slipped inside the dark, cavernous maw that represented her home.
"You can at least see me in and allow me to offer you a drink." She muttered, still at his side. "It's the least I owe you for being such an ass tonight."
"You don't owe me anything, Kayla..." Nick began as she flicked several switches and bathed the interior of the building with soft light. At first he winced for the sudden suffusion of light. What met his eyes when adjusted was reminiscent more of a museum than any home one would suspect for a detective of the San Francisco PD.
What met his gaze was more strongly a reminder of the loft he had left in Toronto, only with a more varied selection of object d'art. Everything from the oil paintings and tapestries that dressed the walls, to the stuffed horse in full period armor; it was a collection worthy of any museum he'd certainly ever known.
Or of someone who was everything but what they appeared to be. He cast a shocked eye throughout the buildings interior. Oblivious, at the moment, of Kayla's presence.
A soft chuckle at his shoulder brought him back to some semblance of reality. A soft smile of understanding graced weary lips, and a glitter of an all too familiar mischief flickered in the depths of emerald eyes. "Welcome the Museum de MacInnis, Monsieur DeBrabant."