The following night was the first time Maura encountered the tall stranger in the alley. She took him for a street guy, though older than the usual, one of the curious who hung out in the back, as she glimpsed him from the back door. In a moment though she knew he was one of them. Unfamiliar, he had the furtive look of a newcomer but the edge of someone who knew how to take care of himself. For some reason he seemed to be trying to pass for mortal. And would have, if she were ordinary. He was lounging on an upturned milk crate, his cape-like black overcoat draping around him with curious elegance.
"Help you?" she asked him as she stacked her cases of empties. Funny Vachon hadn't mentioned the guy when he'd dumped them by the door for her.
"No thank you, I'm fine. Quelle nuit splendide, n'est-ce pas?"
"D'accord." She went back to the door a couple of times to bring more cases to stack next to the dumpster. He didn't offer to help, just watched as she worked. When she'd finished, she wiped the dust from her hands and approached the stranger.
"You're new around here. I'm Maura, I manage security for the club." She always introduced herself like that, it established her authority from the get-go in case someone was looking for trouble, and let them know she wasn't just some clueless bar back.
"Multitasking, I see," he replied, with a lazy wave to indicate the stacked cases of empties. "Janette likes her employees to show initiative." He hadn't shaken her proffered hand, so she withdrew it.
"You know Janette?"
He shrugged, casual. "We've crossed paths now and then." Given all he'd heard about such creatures as this, LaCroix was mildly surprised (or as much as he was by anything) to see nothing very remarkable about this Maura. Aside from the wafting fragrance of honeysuckle and amber, subtle but permeating, there was no indication that she was anything but a run-of-the-mill mortal. Nothing in her appearance, pleasant in a rough way but far from arresting, nothing in her manner, which was anything but that dreadful ethereal aspect that usually drew Nicholas out of himself when he imagined it called to him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, except perhaps to see something distinctive in the woman who had engaged Nicholas' interest, no, more than engaged it, for the first time in decades. As jaded as he was after witnessing centuries of his protégé's varying liaisons, he knew this one was different. And for the first time in centuries genuine curiosity was aroused, though he'd deliberately chosen to come to her during the high cycle of the moon. Curious he was, and determined to learn more, but even he was uncertain of the effect of one of her kind during the new moon. He preferred a guaranteed upper hand as he examined the seismic shift he'd sensed in Nicolas, from thousands of miles and many years away.
"Well why don't you come in and say hello? She's in the office."
"Yes, counting the night's receipts no doubt. No thank you, we can become reacquainted some other time." He said this in knowing fashion, as if he knew Janette far better than he let on. It had been a long night, and Maura wasn't in the mood for phony charm and banter.
"Look, mister, you're obviously not into sharing your name with me. You can tell me, or not, or come in, or not, but I have work to finish up before my ride gets here."
A subtle smile pulled at the pale stranger's mouth. "Your 'ride'. Better than someone waiting at home, is someone who comes to bring you there." He added, half to himself and with dry amusement, "He must be very much 'in love'." LaCroix rose to move into the streetlight, and was impressed when Maura stepped toward him instead of away. Most mortals fell back a step or two. But she was no ordinary mortal, was she?
"You read a lot into a couple of words." In fact Nick had left with Schanke today for Ottawa, to be deposed about a killing connected to a federal drug case. Vachon, now dropping off one of the waitresses, would return shortly to drive her home.
"I'm not sure what you're looking for, Mr. X." She answered his affected stare of wide-eyed innocence with a sharpened tone. "We both know that I know who you are. That is, what you are. And you know the same about me." His continuing cool appraisal of her was annoying. Who the hell did he think he was? "If you're waiting for me to be impressed or afraid, don't hold your breath. Then again, you've been holding it for a long time, haven't you?"
LaCroix laughed, his usual ironic timbre replaced by something as close to genuine delight as he was capable of. "Familiarity breeds levity. You are an unusual creature."
"Friend of mine makes the same observation."
"No doubt. I won't keep you any longer, your 'ride' mustn't be kept waiting. Adieu, Maura. You're a most engaging young woman."
Maura found his attitude of intimacy insolent, and offensive. "You have no idea what I am, beyond the obvious."
That smile again. "Perhaps not." He bowed with exaggerated graciousness. "Do give my regards to Mademoiselle Janette."
"Who should I say was here?" A last attempt at identification.
He straightened. "She'll know." And he was gone. She might have been impressed if she wasn't so used to the showy exits and entrances of her colleagues. Shaking her head, she went inside and bolted the door before heading to the office. When the money was locked in the safe (Janette did not believe in banks, having lived through too many of their failures) and they'd settled on the work schedule for the following week, Maura sat back in her chair.
"Met an old acquaintance of yours tonight."
Janette looked puzzled. Nobody outside of the regulars and tourists had been here tonight, surely nobody she knew.
"Didn't give me his name, just said you'd 'know' who I was talking about. Tall, pale as, well, the rest of you, piercing dark blue eyes, well, like the rest of you.' All vampires seemed to have piercing dark blue eyes, she'd learned. "Spoke French. A little, anyway. White hair, brush cut, kind of like an undead Marine. Very elegant manners, but he wears his arrogance like expensive cologne." Janette looked uneasy.
"He didn't give you a name?"
"Nope. Before he left he bowed like a courtier, and said 'Do give my regards to Mademoiselle Janette."
Janette muttered something under her breath that Maura couldn't hear. "You didn't recognize him? Nobody that you've ever heard myself, or Nicolas (she offered this with an odd tone of voice) mention?"
"Not at all. Just another of the Eternity Fraternity passing through, as far as I could tell. Doesn't he sound familiar?"
"Bien sûr." She forced a smile. "An old acquaintance, as you say, and fellow member 'of the Fraternity'." Janette tolerated Maura's flippant characterizations because she was so completely indoctrinated into their existence, even finding some of them amusing. And there were many more things she would be willing to overlook for Nick's sake. But this little omission of his was hard to comprehend. If Nicolas was so devoted to this mortal, so concerned with her well being and now so attached to her, why on earth hadn't he told her about LaCroix, the one unavoidable danger she was guaranteed to encounter by virtue of her connection to him? More dangerous, in fact, than anyone she'd faced during any of her new moons because his was more than an opportunistic interest. Her presence in Nicolas' life made her an irresistible target for LaCroix, who paled her other dangers by comparison. Janette should have known he'd be back, that no matter where he was or what debauchery he was enjoying he would sense that an elemental change was happening in Nicolas. Having lost Nicolas a century ago as a willing partner in depravity, the older vampire had satisfied himself with the knowledge of his young protégé's misery. Unwilling to accept what he was and unable to become what he felt he should be, Nicolas' continuing torment and consistent failure at self-redemption provided LaCroix with a vindictive pleasure nearly equal to that he'd enjoyed as he and his creation reveled in the depths of their dark existence together. He had been willing enough to leave Janette alone since they'd parted so long ago, undisturbed and even impressed (in his superior fashion) by her ease in creating a life and livelihood wherein their "condition" was actually an asset, their culture as both an entertainment for mortals and an enticement for them to be fed upon with little danger of discovery. And she could provide employment and residence for others of their kind as well. A dark symbiosis, LaCroix had called it. But Janette knew that the prospect of Nicolas finding a symbiosis of his own that might provide some semblance of peace, a vestige of relief from his self-loathing, could wake LaCroix from a hundred-year sleep. His arrogance simply would not tolerate it. And something else puzzled her, that she hadn't sensed his presence. He could prevent that, but only by design.
"Cherie, when is Nicolas returning from that tiresome trip of his?" He would have to be told of LaCroix's return, as his former mentor obviously was devoting himself to secrecy
"Day after tomorrow, he said," Maura told her as she gathered her things to leave. "I'm kind of enjoying having the place to myself for a few days. I haven't been on my own for a while." Not without being hyper-vigilant, anyway.
"Of course," Janette laughed, a little too lightly. "So nice to clear the air of testosterone from time to time." She followed Maura to the door, where Vachon was waiting. "Do me a favor, Maura, and tell dear Nicolas when he returns I'd like him to pay a visit as soon as he can."
Maura had a strange sense about this, but nothing she could put her finger on, and wrote it off to another of Janette's eccentricities of friendship. "I can give you his hotel phone number, if it's important."
"No, that's not necessary cherie. Just tell him I'd like to see him. So I can hear his details on your night of dancing and camaraderie, of course." Then to Vachon, who was jingling his car keys like a very mortal man impatient to get going, "Vachon, see Maura into the loft, will you?" Seeing the odd looks on Maura and Vachon she added dismissively, "I promised Nicolas we'd look out for son doucette in his absence, and he will know if we haven't. I'll see you tomorrow night, mes petits." It being Sunday, the club would usually be closed for the next two days. Most clubs were closed on Sunday but Raven seemed to attract a special crowd on that day, those who seemed to find a particular thrill in despoiling the Sabbath. This week a private birthday party had rented the club for Monday night; Vachon and Maura had agreed to tend bar and work security respectively. Janette, as always, would play hostess.
"Don't worry, Janette, Vachon will be both chauffeur and protector. Or I'll fire his ass."
Vachon protested as they walked to his car. "You can't fire me, I'm a bartender."
"Just watch me. I have an 'in' with the boss."
"Well living with her ex may not be it," he warned as he got behind the wheel. "She's pretty protective."
"Then I guess we're in the same boat, huh?"
As they pulled away neither of them saw the tall figure leaning against the wall just beyond the circle of the street light.
"So our Nicolas has found himself a pet." LaCroix appeared in Janette's office without greeting, and she betrayed no reaction as he settled in one of the velvet chairs as if he'd been there for years.
"I knew you couldn't stand it, Lucien. You are so sadly predictable." Janette finished locking her desk and the side room, and sat down to face him.
"'Stand' what? Surely you can't be implying that I wouldn't welcome the notion of Nicolas rediscovering the pleasures he's denied himself for so long?"
Janette stared at him with disdain. Who exactly did he think he was talking to, with this ridiculous charade? Now he leaned forward, with the eager expression of a village gossip and the tone of voice to match.
"But you must tell me, is he very much in love with her? More to the point, is he... in thrall to her blood? Tell me, Janette, is her hold on him as powerful as the legends would have it?" He appeared delighted by the possibility that Nick was bound against his will, forced by his deeper vampire nature into something he would ordinarily condemn.
Janette shrugged. "He seems... content. More than that I do not know. I hired Maura several months ago, and she and Nicolas met through his many visits."
"Liar!" he shouted with laughter to the ceiling before nailing her with his eyes, "You introduced him to her, you wanted to see what would happen to him. . You must have found out by now. Don't try to lie to me Janette, I know you far too well"
"LaCroix, you are like a meddlesome child!" Janette scolded impatiently. She had long since ceased being intimidated by his insolent airs. His full-blown rages were another thing entirely. "Why can't you just let him alone, as you have left me alone? We don't interfere with you, why can you not return the favor?"
"I'm not in a magnanimous mood, I suppose. I despise posturing, and our Nicolas has postured as a frustrated mortal for quite long enough. Of course now he's achieved a rare conquest. You can't blame me for being curious."
"You're bored, LaCroix. Find yourself a battlefield, or a convent, or one of your usual ways of running amok and you will feel much better."
"Now Janette, after all we have meant to each other, you and I and Nicolas, how can you imagine I am not interested in his personal development?" He delivered the comment like a devoted guidance counselor.
Janette tired of the game. "Lucien, you have nothing to gain by interfering. What could you do to Nicolas that you have not done before?" Countless times over the centuries LaCroix had both set up and shattered Nicolas' romances and friendships, relentlessly determined to teach him that nothing could endure except the bond between the three of them, that nobody was worthy of loyalty but LaCroix himself and nobody else could offer what he could. The problem was that what Nick wanted was so beyond LaCroix' understanding that his only response could be to destroy whatever he saw Nicolas discovering for himself. Even after a century he had not given up on the notion that Nicolas could be brought back into his dark fold, that things could be as they once were if only his protégé would recognize that the only connections worth having were based upon power, not compassion, and certainly not love.
And now LaCroix, too, became bored by his little scenario. "I will leave you to your evening's pleasure, Janette." He knew that she, at least, continued in the same long established patterns of their kind. She would find a diversion, someone rich with blood and sensual enjoyment with whom she would entertain herself without a moment's regret. Janette rose as LaCroix exited the office.
"Find your own evening's pleasure, LaCroix, far from here. There is nothing to be had from Nicolas that you have not long since tired of."
LaCroix smiled to himself. He would be the judge of that, and soon.
After Vachon dutifully saw her into her own home and checked in the corners with a laugh for "demons", Maura noticed the message light flashing. She smiled in advance, knowing it could only be one person. He called at eight o'clock according to the time signature.
"Save me," Nick's voice began, without greeting. "Four hours in the car with Schanke and I'm ready to hitchhike back to Toronto when the time comes. He wants to go out on the town. I'm not sure I want to know why. Maybe he hopes to get me drunk so he can see what's locked in my electric cooler. With any luck the deposition should go quickly and I can persuade him to go back a day early. I think I miss you. Or maybe I just miss well-adjusted company. See you soon."
"'Well adjusted'," she laughed to the empty loft, "he is in a bad way!" Maura found herself too tired to sit up and read, so she went upstairs and changed for bed. Spreading out in the silk sheets she felt a little guilty at the pleasure of having the big bed to herself. It was odd to be here alone, she thought, for the first time since she'd arrived. She reached over to pull his pillow to her face. He never wore cologne or anything with artificial scent, still she recognized him as she breathed deeply. If moonlight had a fragrance, Nick smelled like moonlight. Cool and still, like silver flowers. "I think I miss you too," she told the pillow as she drifted to sleep.
The private party went well the next night. A 30th birthday do for a financial analyst whose friends had decided on a Goth theme as the ultimate alter-ego event. It was actually fun, because none of this crowd had the oh-so-serious dark attitude of many of the regulars. It was a theme party, plain and simple. Aside from a few happy drunks trying to dance on the banquettes everyone was so well-behaved Maura had little to do but help Vachon at the bar. Even Janette, who usually found hosting private parties tiresome, took full advantage of the fact that nobody in this group took vampire lore seriously. She was able to be entirely herself, telling every terrible tale of her past that took her fancy, answering every curious question posed by the innocent guests who believed her to be play-acting. The company couldn't have been more entertained. Halfway through the evening, the young man who organized the fête approached the bar where Janette, Vachon, and Maura were observing the dancing. The boys managed to keep it just this side of satanic death metal, what they called their "tourist sets". Howard, the party organizer, was waxing rhapsodic over the decor, the music, and the staff.
"Really, this is exactly what we were hoping for, you have my friends eating out of the palm of your hand."
The metaphor raised three sets of eyebrows. Howard looked to be mid-twenties, dark and retiring. Just the kind Janette thirsted for, and Vachon and Maura were keeping an eye on their boss as a result.
"C'est nôtre plaisir, M. Dalton." Janette was charming the poor kid right out of his (likely borrowed) black leather jeans.
"But really, where do you all get the whole back story ideas from, how could you come up with this atmosphere, and the, well the culture of vampirism? You all speak as if you've really been there." He looked a bit nervous, as if he may have offended someone. All three laughed but Maura spoke first.
"Some people just have that creative bent, Howard. When there is no authenticity to strive for, it's easy to create your own."
Janette looked insulted for a moment, but her elegant snit was interrupted when Howard asked her to dance.
"Why, I'd love to, M. Dalton." As she trailed him to the dance floor wearing a too-familiar expression, Vachon called after her, "Have fun, boss,"
"But not too much," added Maura. Janette threw them the "death look" and they broke up. Everyone knew that Janette would never indulge with a private customer, regardless of how toothsome she found him. She was, after all, first and foremost a businesswoman. The everyday bar patrons, however, had to fend for themselves.
Maura glanced at her watch. There were no clocks at Raven, vampires having their own quite accurate internal clocks. It was closing in on 12:45 and the party had rented the bar until 1am. "Okay, Vash, it's that time. You rack 'em, and I'll stack 'em." As always, Vachon carried the cases of empties to the door and left them for Maura to put out by the dumpster. Tonight was a big wine night, so only two cases went out back. She took them together and set them in the usual spot. When she turned to go back in the bar, the door was blocked by the tall stranger from the night before, leaning against the doorframe as if he were an invited guest come out to get some air.
"Ah, you're wearing that lovely frock again."
Maura had been persuaded by Janette to "vamp it up a bit" by wearing the dress she'd had made for the awards dinner. She really wasn't in the mood for more forced cleverness.
"So glad you like it. Janette's inside, she seemed to remember you."
"I told you so." He smiled like a lizard sunning on a rock. But Maura knew the sun wasn't his element. She'd had about enough of this Whistler wannabe.
"Y'know you were amusing for a few minutes last night, it's always amusing to see someone who takes himself so seriously be worth taking so lightly. But I'm way past being impressed by the droll worldly vampire routine, so why don't you move it on to someone who is."
LaCroix was tripped up for a moment by Maura's insolence. He wasn't accustomed to such a response. Then again, he'd never encountered one of the prized ones before. He stood to his full height and stepped forward.
"It seems Janette chose her 'security manager' well."
Maura stood toe-to-toe with him, though she had to look up to look him in the eye. She could see she'd pissed him off, there were glimmers of red in the depths. "I could ask what you want from me, but I just don't care. Are you waiting for me to scream for help? Forget it. I'm done screaming. Wanna know why?" No answer but the barest snarl of derision. "Because I'm not afraid of you, that's why. So you can glower and growl, float in the air or burst into flames. There's nothing you can do to me that hasn't been done before. I'm not brave, I'm not all-powerful. I'm just worn out by the whole sage, and I just don't give a shit anymore. Like I said, save it for somebody who's impressed."
Enraged, LaCroix seized her by the shoulders and lifted her a foot off the ground. Somewhere inside Maura wondered why she wasn't cowering in familiar terror. It could be the strangeness of the nearly-full moon, or maybe it was that she'd grown stronger in the past months than she'd been before. She knew he could crush her in his hands, but for some crazy reason it didn't make a dent in her attitude. Maybe she'd been telling the truth, she was just weary of the drama and this guy got on her last nerve as if her were just another annoying customer.
"You wanna taste?" she taunted. "You remind me of some others. Lots of them really. Dying of curiosity but a just a little bit afraid. Is that it, dude? You wanna find out if it's true, but you're afraid you can't control it. Well you know you can't control me, don't you?" His eyes drilled into hers. She didn't even flinch.
LaCroix dropped her abruptly, and she fairly bounced to her feet. "Surprise, the legends are true. You can't do your hypno thing on me, and you can't bring me across to teach me a lesson. Just who the hell are you anyway?"
In spite of the buttons she was pushing in his ego, LaCroix regained his control. "You really aren't afraid, are you? I could sense it if you were, most mortals bathe in fear like cheap perfume." He paused. "Yours is... rarified, n'est-ce pas ?"
She made to push past him but he grabbed her almost without moving, and held her still entirely without effort.
"Well surprise to you, my dear, because I'm not afraid of you either. After all, it's the full moon, which renders you a dalliance and not an addiction." He gave the French pronunciation to "dalliance". He pulled her close against him in a parody of dance, and whispered in her ear, "Besides, I'm not interested in you. It's your vampire lover, your faux mortal dance partner, your latest protector that interests me."
This stunned her. "You know Nick?"
Her reaction pleased him. "Oh yes," his voice was a sibilant hiss, like a snake ready to strike, "and I'm about to know him much better."
The brutality of his bite should have triggered a flashback response in Maura, instant replays of every past attack. As it was it merely triggered a jaded sense of resignation, a "here we go again", as the pain filled her and her mind faded to black.
Originally intending merely to plumb her blood for answers, LaCroix now wanted to punish Maura. His eyes widened, nonetheless, at his first taste. If this was her weakest blood, its power at the new moon must be fearsome. He was seized with an orgasmic rush, which fed itself into a surge of power. He felt like a god. Rather than the upswell of euphoria it triggered in Nick and others, it exponentially magnified LaCroix's natural feelings of omnipotence. It wasn't his intention to kill her, but he was so possessed by the glorious power he felt that soon he realized she was nearer to death than he'd planned to take her. This was simply to be his greeting to Nicolas, by way of giving themselves one more thing in common. As in any feed, his victim's life, thoughts, and psyche came to him in the blood. She was strong, and had more knowledge of his kind than he had imagined. She also was no threat to any of them, she felt more of them than of mortals. And since meeting Nicholas a spark had awakened in her that helped her abandon the beaten creature she'd been for so long. No more the vampire's whore, she met them on equal terms. He sensed no knowledge of himself in her. So Nicholas hadn't said a word. All this and more came to LaCroix in the continuing gush of Maura's blood, impossibly complex but easily assimilated. At last he tore himself away, and dropped her carelessly on the ground near the door. He was caught in a quandary. Killing her would accomplish nothing, his pleasure was to be in exploring the reaches of Nicolas's new life, and that would be impossible if the catalyst was eliminated. What to do? Eyeing her closely, he realized it might be too late anyway. No matter. He pulled the door open just a crack.
"Bitch!" he roared, enjoying his affectation of a drunken lout, "private party? I'm coming in anyway!" He thumped the door open for good measure and, certain he'd been heard, retreated to a nearby rooftop where he could witness what would follow.
A voice called out. "Luna?" A young vampire, long-haired and dressed for formal bartending, nearly stepped on Maura as he came through the door calling, "Under control out here?" He dropped to his knees and saw the marks, his head jerked up with a hiss, but must have been able to sense the low flutter of Maura's fading life even before he touched her. "Shit!" he exclaimed in very mortal fashion. Then, "Janette!" he roared in full voice, abandoning his role, as he scooped Maura up in his arms and turned to run back into the bar. "Janette! TROUBLE!" The bar door slammed behind him, and LaCroix was disappointed to be shut out of the proceedings. Oh well. He'd know soon enough.
Inside the last of the guests had been ushered out and the door locked behind them, moments before Vachon exploded into the room with Maura in his arms.
For the first time in memory, Janette's face went blank with shock. "Vachon! What on earth..." She cut off short when she saw the wounds on Maura's neck. Savage, even by her careless standards.
"I heard someone yelling at her, and when I went out to check I found her lying on the ground in the alley. Janette, she's dying, what can we do?" Another first; a distraught vampire.
Janette muttered rapidly. "Think, think, we obviously can't take her to the hospital, and Nicolas is out of town. There's nothing he could do anyway,"
"Janette! Didn't you hear me? She's dying!" He could feel the flicker in her getting lower. Both he and Janette knew well she couldn't be brought across, though it was doubtful they'd go to that length to save her.
"Bring her in my office," Janette ordered, grabbed the cordless phone off the bar in passing, and dialed the city morgue.
As she floored it on the way to Raven Natalie tried not to think about how many regulations she'd broken. How the hell could a coroner justify "requisitioning" five pints of blood and a transfusion set? Well she was a doctor after all, and the first rule was "do no harm", and letting Maura Logue die when she might be able to help would certainly be doing harm. She wondered if Janette had called Nick.
En route from Ottawa, Nick was enduring another of his partner's endless tales of college conquest. But he was so grateful that Schanke agreed to do a red-eye drive back to Toronto after the night deposition, he kept his mouth shut. And his eyes. He was halfway into a true fugue when something very like an electric shock ran through him from head to foot, making him start violently and nearly sending Schanke off the road.
"Jesus, Nick, you wanna get us killed?"
Nick shook himself, the jolt fading as quickly as it came. But in its wake was a distinct uneasiness, a knowledge that something wasn't right. "Sorry, Schank, don't know what happened." Not explaining further he pulled out his cell phone and dialed home. Not likely Maura would be home yet, but worth a shot. When the machine kicked in, he said, "We're halfway home. Schanke listened to reason, should be crawling in the door in a couple hours. See you soon."
"Partner, you are one romantic fool." But Nick was pushing buttons again, this time calling the club. No answer there either. That was really weird, because come hell or high water someone would be behind the bar right now, getting things just right for Janette's exacting standards. He didn't bother to leave a message. The nagging dread persisted, a physical sensation of burning in his head and chest that he'd never felt before.
"What the hell happened?" Natalie asked as she rushed to set up the transfusion. Maura's complexion had gone grey, her lips and eyelids pale blue. She was right on the edge, and Natalie wasn't at all sure she'd gotten the blood pumping in time. She set the i.v. to push. Too fast though, and her system couldn't handle it.
"LaCroix happened," hissed Janette. "I should have known he'd do something like this. Maura told me about a stranger chatting her up in the alley last night, he sounded very like LaCroix. Clearly she had no idea who he was. But he came to me later, asking questions. About Maura, about Nicolas, about how things might have changed for him because of her. You must understand, Lucien LaCroix is not subject to fits of idle curiosity. His interest lies in control, especially where Nicolas is concerned."
Natalie nodded as she dressed the ugly wound on Maura's throat. She could practically have bled to death from that alone. "I've heard some about LaCroix, but not much. Nick doesn't like to talk about him."
"Yes, well better he had talked about him to Maura, then she would have some sense to protect herself from him. He is like a demonic child, LaCroix, and will indulge himself as far as he's permitted by circumstances."
"Are you saying he would have left her alone if she knew who he was?"
"Probably not. But she could have told me, or Nicolas, and together we could have persuaded him it was not in his best interests to interfere with her. Perhaps I should call Nicolas, and tell him there is trouble here."
Natalie checked the third pint of blood in the i.v. Now she changed it to a regular drip speed, setting the pump on low. Maura would maybe take in two more pints, but it seemed she was back from the brink.
"No, Janette, if you call Nick he might do something sudden, and reveal himself to Schanke. Better to call him later when I get her stabilized and he's less likely to fly straight up in the air from his hotel window."
Vachon ventured into the office, casting a nervous look at where Maura lay on Janette's Victorian fainting couch.
"How is she doing?"
Natalie smiled up at the young vampire. "I think we've gotten her back. If you hadn't gone out there when you did, she wouldn't be so lucky."
He shrugged philosophically. "You take some, you give some." He returned to the bar to finish closing up.
Nick shifted in his seat yet again.
"Want me to pull over?" Schanke offered.
"No, no. I just get this feeling that something's amiss at home, I just called and no answer. Then I called Raven, and no answer there either. It's just weird. How fast can this thing go?" They had taken a department unmarked to Ottawa. Schanke was about to make some smartass comment about his partner being pussy-whipped, but a glance at Nick's face changed his mind.
"Well I guess we're about to see, huh?" He hit the siren and Nick slapped the bubble on the roof as Schanke floored it.
"Hmm, 110 and still smooth, not bad. We'll be home in less than an hour."
After four and a half pints of blood Maura's color was beginning to return to normal, and her body temperature had risen to 96.3. Natalie decided to stop the transfusion and let her body make up what deficit might remain.
"I think it might be a good idea to get her home in her own bed. She's gonna need to be flat out for a couple of days." Natalie suggested. The intensity of what she'd just been party to overwhelmed any twinge she might have felt making that statement: "her own bed".
Vachon carried Maura to the limousine that Janette reserved for special parties of her own. He stretched her out in the back seat and held her head in his lap while Natalie sat next to Janette on the drive to Nick's loft.
"She really is gonna be okay," Natalie reassured Vachon, who seemed far too concerned for the average vampire. Natalie was beginning to grasp the special relationship that Maura had with these creatures. Their connection was more than just tolerance and need, it was obviously born of mutual empathy and common concerns. Before, whenever she'd seen Nick's kindness and concern for others she thought of how "mortal" it was. She was beginning to realize how arrogant that estimation was. Funny how crisis could burn off the bullshit, though maybe only temporarily.
Vachon carried Maura upstairs as Janette paced in the living room. Natalie got her into her pj's while Vachon discreetly turned away to pull open the bed. Between the two of them they got her tucked in securely and stood back to consider the situation.
"She should be fine if she rests and gets enough fluids."
Vachon couldn't suppress a smile. "I know the feeling..." His smile turned grim as he reached out a hand to touch her hair. "She didn't deserve this."
"Nobody does." Instantly Natalie regretted the harshness in her voice. He'd saved her life, after all. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Why did she believe that emotions were solely a mortal trait, along with kindness and loyalty?
Vachon's smile tightened along with his voice. "Of course. I'll go downstairs and see what Janette is up to."
Natalie wondered if she'd ever be able to mix with them as Maura did, speak the same language, stop judging them. That, she realized, was the difference between her relationship with Nick and Maura's. Maura accepted Nick bag and baggage, no judgments, for who he was. Nothing he shouldn't be, Nick told her once that was the most important thing he'd been told in centuries. He knew Maura believed, as nobody else did, that who he was, or almost-was, or tried to be, was enough, just so, and that his aspirations were as good as others' realities. Everyone else wished he could just be more this or less of that. And Natalie knew she was included in that number, and she wished she could change that. But she didn't know if it were possible for her, with her medical knowledge and hopes for change. That was the essence, she would never be able to fully accept that being mortal wouldn't be better for Nick, for any of them. And she knew that hurt him, even as he accepted her "help" in the spirit in which it was given, even allowing himself on occasion to share her definition of his nature as a "disorder". That is, until Maura arrived in his life and told him "You're nothing you shouldn't be." If it brought him such peace, how could it be wrong?
Breaking from her meditation, Natalie checked the dressing on Maura's throat. This bite wasn't healing as rapidly as those she had gotten from Nick. Then again, this was bestowed in violence and not love. She lit the massive candle that stood in the wrought-iron holder next to the bed, and turned off the lights. Leaving the door ajar, she went downstairs.
Schanke was as good as his word. Siren wailing and engine roaring, he got them to Nick's door in a little over forty minutes. Nick was wound so tight by the time they arrived, Schanke said nothing except "Hope everything's okay, call me." as Nick bounded from the car and let himself into the freight elevator. Some of the burning in his nerves had dissipated, but he knew instinctively things had gone terribly wrong and somehow Maura had been caught in the center of it. Caught. His knowledge crystallized as he burst into the loft and pulled up short to see Janette, Vachon, and Natalie conversing seriously near the stairs.
"What," he began, and before anyone could answer he flew straight up to the gallery and into the bedroom. As he approached the bed and saw the large bandage on Maura's throat, so pale and wasted she looked, he knew. Lifting her hand to his lips, he pressed the tiniest puncture into her fingertip and when he touched his tongue to the drop of blood that emerged he saw everything. He gripped her hand tighter and shut his eyes, dropping his head, speechless with rage and guilt.
"I would say she has had enough of that for one night, Nicolas," came Janette's chill voice from the doorway. His head jerked up, eyes aflame.
"Spare me your feral fury, Nicolas de Brabant, I haven't the patience for more drama tonight." Her expression was stiff with disapproval. "How could you not have told her, how could you be so foolish to think he wouldn't care, that he wouldn't interfere?
The fire in his eyes cooled, replaced by a deep shadow. "I don't know, Janette. I nearly did, a dozen times, we've told each other so much, the bad as well as the good. It's not as if I didn't tell her who I was, how I was..." he trailed off, looking back at the bed. "Maybe I thought a broad picture was enough. Maybe I thought to reveal all of it, and LaCroix is certainly all of it, maybe I thought that would be the one thing too much. The one thing I shouldn't be. It was selfish, and dangerous, and stupid."
"Trop stupide, cheri," Janette told him, not without some sympathy. "She welcomes everything you are, and ignores what you are not. She believes you are absolutely complete in yourself. And whether or not any of us agree or approve, even I know that the darkest truth from your past could not drive her from your side." She approached him, put her arms around his neck, confessing with near-wistfulness, "I envy you that." He tightened his arms around her, and they both held tight.
"Thank you, Janette, thank you," he whispered to his ageless friend/lover/sister. She stepped away.
"It was your friend Dr. Lambert who saved her. I only called her. Who better to help me than a doctor of the dead?" She smiled wickedly at her own bleak joke, and Nick kissed her deeply.
"Maura is my heart," he told her, "but you're my soul, the only soul I have."
"Go to her, Nicolas, she will know you are here."
He went back to the bedside, staring at Maura's face, nearly transparent in its pallor, in the flicker of the candle flame. Bending, he kissed her forehead as if to seal her safety. "He won't touch you again, Sweet. No one will."
Maura felt cool lips on her skin, heard a quiet voice murmuring words she couldn't discern. She wanted to respond, but felt liquid, beyond weakness, as if she were suspended in something timeless and gelatinous . It was not entirely unpleasant, except for the fiery pain at the side of her neck. Even her mind felt weak, unable to recall what had happened or what all of this dissipation and fluidity meant. Long gentle fingers, then, also cool like spring water, tracing her cheek and spreading in her hair.
"Sleep now. I won't leave you alone." Now she could hear every word, but still was unable to reply. He lifted her hand again and kissed the tip of her finger where he'd drawn out the knowledge. "I love you," he whispered, then tucked her hand under the covers and joined his friends downstairs.
They were preparing to leave. "Natalie," Nick began, and ended by nearly crushing her in a hug. "How do I say 'thank you' for what you've done tonight?" She stepped back with a genuine smile of personal triumph.
"I think you just did. On second thought, you can go erase the memory of the night clerk in the blood bank."
"Anything. Just tell me what else and it's yours."
She looked serious now. "Nick, I know you have your reasons for holding some things back. But this little sin of omission almost cost Maura her life. I know we haven't exactly been friends, but I really believe there's nothing you can't tell her. Even if there were, it isn't fair not to. Not when it's something this dangerous."
Nick waited until she was finished. "There's nothing you can tell me I'm not telling myself. And that Janette hasn't told me. And if it's any consolation, let me tell you when she wakes up Maura is going to be a worse handful than a bundle of crucifixes. But you're right. I have nothing to say for myself. I think the best thing to do is just step back and let her do her worst."
Natalie gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'm glad I won't be here for that. You might hide anything made of wood bigger than a toothpick." He looked a bit confused, so she shook his arm and kissed his cheek. "Nick, she's gonna be fine. Make sure she gets enough fluids, and don't let her out of bed for a day or two, okay? I'll check in on Wednesday." As the trio of rescuers proceeded out the door Natalie turned again. "Relax, she's okay, okay? Go lie down or something, you look terrible."
No doubt, he thought bitterly as he locked the door and checked the shutters. He hadn't felt this wretched since the last (the final) time he took one of Natalie's garlic supplements. He hit the lights and went to the kitchen to get a drink. Starving, and feeling like an utter glutton, he drained four bottles and dragged upstairs to change for bed. Maura was where he'd left her, lying on her back, head turned toward his side of the bed, deeply asleep. He thought maybe her color was a little better. Wanting to be close to her when she woke, but not wanting to chill her into worse sickness, he pulled some extra silk quilts from the ornate oaken chest at the foot of the bed and spread them over her. Then he settled against her, safely insulated, and pulled another quilt over himself. He laid his head next to hers on the pillow and draped a protective arm around her. Too late to be protective, he knew. "Forgive me, Sweet," he whispered. It was some time before he went to sleep.
She felt him there, unable to open her eyes still she knew it had to be him. She didn't know about time or day or night, but felt a warm face resting against her own, a comfortable weight lying across her. It had to be him. Why was she so warm? She'd thought cold was all she'd ever be since... since, whatever it was that had happened. But she was cocooned snug and warm, and he was there, close, with her? She didn't understand. Still unable to open her eyes, still feeling too emptied and weak to move, she somehow managed to turn her head just a fraction, just a hair, to press him closer against her cheek. Deep in his customary slumber he didn't stir. Something was different, something inside of her, as if whatever happened had changed her in some elemental way. She felt safe, secure, but it wasn't him that made her feel that way. It was his presence, though, that reminded her. It was too confusing to stay with for long, and she faded off again.