1Disclaimer: 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 up-front 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 Five

To the Manor Born

For the longest time Nick could only stare. His gaze shooting between his new partner and the somewhat enigmatic smile she presented him, and the vast collection that her seemingly modest home, if it truly could be called that, contained. For a few lengthy moments, he was genuinely speechless.

A demanding yalp from Raleigh garnered his attention back to the now somewhat drawn appearance of his partner. "You'll have to excuse me," she began in a passably amusing Igor impression, complete with hunched over posture and half-sealed eye. "My master demands his dinner. And I know better than to argue with him." She shuffled away a few paces toward a dimly illuminated kitchenette. "Last time I was late he dug up my fake bougainvillaea." She straightened up and strode more purposefully toward the kitchen and impatiently waiting dog. "Help yourself to a look-see around. Be with you momentarily." Then set about the task of opening and dishing out the canines dinner. "I swear, Ral, I don't know how you can eat this stuff." She griped to the dog teasingly. "Course you probably feel the same way about some of the stuff I eat."

Amused by the banter, but not a party to it, Nick wandered into the heart of the room, gazing around, still disbelieving in the sights presented, with wide, almost awe-struck eyes.

There was more art hanging on the walls in the same style as the knight and lady that held it's own place of honor on her office walls. It finally struck him the resemblance between the women in the illustrations and Kayla. It was uncanny.

Also adorning the walls, in the company of genuine European tapestries, were oil paintings similar in period to the woven artworks that were their companions. In one oddly shadowed corner he saw framed posters of classic film noir movies. A table, set below a large poster boasting the name Bela Lagosi as Dracula, housed a myriad of trinkets of distinctly Egyptian flavor. Upon closer inspection they revealed a number of items of antiquity that he knew more than well not to touch: ushapti, ankhs, figurines of ancient Gods of the region, and framed bits of papyrus with elaborately printed out sections from the Book of the Dead.

What had gained more his fuller attention was the stuffed raven black charger in full battle armor, posed at a full gallop. The only thing missing from the scene was the knight astride the beasts back. As he approached the steed closer the eyes of the creature seemed to glow with a kind of other worldly light (surely a trick of the lights above). But there was no question of the fire in the depths of the equine's mocha brown eyes. It was unnervingly entrancing, and brought back an onslaught of old memories that, at the moment at least, Nick felt better leaving buried.

"His name was Raven Knight." Kayla's soft voice whispered from his shoulder causing him to visibly start. "He belonged to my..." her voice faltered and died for a moment. With an obvious effort she cleared her throat and continued. "He belonged to my last partner, Patrick." Reaching out a hand she lovingly caressed the exposed portion of the creature's ebony jaw. "When he died, we had him...preserved...and dressed him up in this old armor." A soft puff of mirthless laughter passed her lips. "I think the old guy would have liked it. He was a show-off. Even for a horse."

Sometimes discretion truly was the better part of valor, and so Nick didn't press any questions about her former partner, obviously one of the two photographs in her office, at least for the time being, and moved on a different tack. Clearing his throat politely he turned to face her. "Not that I want to pry," he began, but the smile and utterly disbelieving cast of Kayla's eyes his direction told him, without a doubt, that she didn't believe that statement for one second. "Alright, then you know I just have to ask...how did you come into owning all this," he made a grand, sweeping gesture with his hand, "stuff."

The half-smile she had fixed to her lips didn't falter for a moment. "I inherited most of it from my family. I guess our line goes back even further than I had researched." She shrugged dismissively. "It seems this place has become more museum than home now, but I guess I shouldn't complain." She chuckled softly. "I know a few places that would give their right arms, and a few other things, to get even half of this...collection." Again a soft chuckle then and ill stifled yawn. "But, I still owe you a drink, right." When she saw him open his mouth to object to the offer she quickly raised a hand to silence it. "And I won't take 'no' for an answer." She muttered with a finality. "I get put off by rejection. Hope red's okay." She called out over her shoulder as she made her way back into the kitchen drawing out two wine bottles and glasses.

Pouring out a glassful of a sweet, floral scented white wine into one glass, she then portioned out a deep ruby red from a bottle emblazoned with a coiled, winged serpentine figure that was etched into the other glass. It struck Nick with an almost physical shock upon recognition of the symbol. He had seen it's replica not but a few hours before - a wyvern.

Gesturing for him to take a seat on a plushly stuffed black leather sofa she handed the red 'wine' to him with a disconcerting, knowing smile on her lips. "Wyvern's special reserve." She muttered by way of explanation. "The same I saw Dante pour you the same at the club and thought you should at least have the pleasure of being able to drink it."

Silently and uncertainly he took the glass from her and hazarded taking a sniff of the liquors bouquet. That served as more than enough to convince him that it was what he had suspicions of. Blood. Mixed with a powerfully aromatic red wine, but it's tale-tale trace was there without a doubt. It's scent alone was intoxicating enough without the added lure of actually being forced to drink it. It was then that an unnerving thought occurred to him, one he was hesitant to even lend his voice to. "Does LaCroix frequently gift you with such vintages?" Phrased as delicately as possible.

Kayla was in the midst of a sip of her own wine while the question was presented. She made a soft, affirming sound and nodded faintly. "Sometimes he does. Lucien has an open invitation here. He's one of the few people I don't mind dropping by unannounced."

Nick's stomach turned to icy lead. "And does he come by often?" Try as he might, he couldn't keep the hint of sudden envy and chill from his voice.

Kayla quirked a fair eyebrow to his tone as much as the question it postured. "Occasionally, when he has time or a reason to visit. Last time was just about a week or two ago." Her own curiosity was obviously piqued. "Why do you ask?"

A sudden wave of excuses, explanations and reasons flooded his mind, but nothing that wasn't shy of outright accusatory came to bare. "I...I'm just curious is all." He glanced her direction, in what he hoped was a casual manner. The expression he was met with assured him she didn't believe a word of that. With a resigned sigh, he set the wine glass down and turned to face her directly. "LaCroix is a dangerous man, Kayla. You have to know that. I don't think you're aware of just how much so, and," he paused briefly, or perhaps just a little too long, then continued in a somewhat milder tone, "I would hate to see you hurt because of him."

Kayla seemed to take a moment or two to digest what he said and something, wholly indecipherable, flickered just behind her eyes. It could have been perceived as anything from amusement to annoyance at being told how to behave around someone she believed to be a legitimate friend, but some how it left him with a distinct feeling of a different emotion. She was touched by his concern. The smile she granted him after she carefully considered his words supported and cemented that theory.

With an air of undeniable grace that was entirely out of place with her otherwise and outwardly 'nothing's going to touch me unless I want it to' attitude, she set her wine glass down and leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, one arm draped over the back of it resting absently on the polished surface of a brass and glass sofa table and ran her fingertips along the edge of the beveled smoky glass, her eyes traveling along it's smooth, rounded edge. Her words were spoken softly and chosen with the utmost care, even to the naive ear, one could hear the underlying affection she held for LaCroix. "I appreciate your concern, Nicola, believe me I do. But,' she paused and fixed him with a gaze so intense he actually felt a kind of heat rise at his collar and actually made him feel just the slightest bit uneasy under its scrutiny. "I'm a big girl. I've seen more on this job that would make most people loose their lunches." A soft chuckle softened her words, and the flicker behind her eyes was replaced by one of something far more akin to one that was a mix of affection and amusement. "I've seen some rookies come on the force who are all boastful talk and peacock strut, but when they face up to the reality of what we sometimes see here, only to turn ghost pale and run back to a patrol car and get quietly sick in the back seat. Which, by they way they have to pay for,"

Her gauze wrapped right hand closed around the wine glass and raised it to her lips, drawing from the sweet scented nectar a deceptively delicate swallow before it resumed its place on the coffee table. Her eyes, for a long moment, remained diverted and locked upon the glass in a contemplative fashion. Absently, again as before, when they had been booked off and she suggested a visit to the Wyvern, her fingers strayed and caressed the silver chain around her neck and the silver Celtic cross that it bore. "I know you're concerned about Lucien, Nicola, but you really oughtn't be. He was the best friend I could have asked for after Patrick..." again she struggled at the mere mention of her former partners name, and again spoke softer at the mention on his name, "after he was killed. So many people deserted me then. Silently accusing me for the incident, without words telling me it was my fault my partner died. He was the only one who seemed to know better. He offered a shoulder to cry on and a compassionate ear when all others had turned away."

Another heavy silence descended, though this was far from uncomfortable. She glanced at the steel shuttered windows and mused absently. "The sun must be up by now. You're welcome to stay here the day since we're both supposed to work a shift today anyway, you might as well. I think I have some of Pat's stuff that might just fit you if you want. And the sofa is comfortable, but I have a spare room upstairs that I rarely use." She smiled, still distracted by the pale gold of her wine. "That is if you don't mind Raleigh paying you a visit and being a heating pad."

Something in her offer ticked an invisible cog in Nick's brain. Not many people would make that offer the way she did. A mild concern knitted his fair brows together in a knot of concern. What did she know about him that she wasn't letting on? About the Community as a whole? About LaCroix? It concerned him. Moreover, it worried him. Particularly where it concerned LaCroix. But before he even knew what he was saying, his mouth seemed to answer for him without his brain's conscious consent. "Thank you. And the guest room would be fine." The easy smile that had endeared him to so many in the past was now directed at his fire maned partner. "And I don't mind canine 'heating pads' as you call him, at all." He managed to bite his tongue before adding 'I don't mind human ones either.' Thank goodness for that.

An invisible weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. For her posture grew instantly more relaxed upon hearing his answer and a nearly inaudible sigh flared her nostrils. "I'll get the night clothes for you then and any toiletries you might need." A bit too hastily she got to her feet to retrieve the promised items, and it seemed only the span of a few heart beats placed her at the back of the sofa again offering him said items with a soft, no longer reserved smile on her lips, though obvious secrecy shaded the depths of her eyes. "Come on, I'll show you the room."

She lead him up the wrought iron appointed stairs to the second level of her home, or museum, as she appropriately called it, to a decent sized room with what looked to be a queen sized bed made up with claret shaded satin sheets. "There's a bathroom adjoined just there, full up if you wanted to take a shower or anything." She gestured vaguely. "And my room is just there." Again gesturing to a room just one door down suffused in the tell tale flicker of what was, no doubt, the illumination of several candles. "Just give a shout or give me a nudge if you find you need anything." He could see her blush slightly to her own words. He found it quite a fetching look for her, and very flattering, but managed to catch himself before he commented to, or actually complimented, her on the rosy hue, he managed a grateful smile and modest statement. "I'm sure that won't be needed, but thank you none the less."

She smiled in an alluring innocent way that reminded him again, in a heart rending way, of his dear long departed sister, Fleur. "Well, good night then." She chuckled and shrugged slightly, a bright spark of amusement lighting her eyes to glow vibrantly. "Or day, whichever." She leaned against the door jam and regarded him contemplatively for a moment or two, the smile never wavering from her lips. "Either way, I hope you have peaceful dreams, and if Raleigh annoys you just give him the boot. He'll only hold it against you for about thirty seconds...or as long as it takes him to find one of his chew toys."

He smiled winningly again at her, all ill ease vanishing like so much fog on a sunny day. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Yea." She muttered absently. Then, purely on impulse, of so he hoped, at least on her part, she bridged the scant distance between them, placing her wounded hand on his chest, just shy of his shoulder and leaned up to plant a soft, unmistakably affectionate kiss on his cheek. "Have a good rest." She muttered softly, almost in a whisper, then back away and padded down the hall to her own room, turning just in the doorframe to regard him with one last statement. "Nicola,"

"Yea?"

"I know you're worried about Lucien, but please don't be." Her words were still soft, still carefully spoken, but they sent a chill through him like an Arctic wind. Her eyes fixed on his and held him in an almost hypnotic gaze. "I know who he is. I know what he is." A heartbeat's pause, then pointedly, "And I'm not afraid of him." She turned and entered her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

The last statement hit Nick like a ton of bricks. He wasn't afraid of LaCroix either.

Suddenly, he was terrified.