Vengeance Will Be Mine, a forever knight fanfic

DISCLAIMER: Forever Knight belongs to Sony and no copyright infringement is intended. This story, however, belongs to me. It is not for profit and is for entertainment purposes only. Please do not publish this story or post this story on a website without asking my permission.

Well, folks, here is my current "offering" of fanfic, "Vengeance Will Be Mine." This story, for those interested, brings back my character Jacques DuPrey from "Lust for Blood." Although there are references to "Lust for Blood," I HOPE this story stands on its own. It was one of my aims, so please let me know if it does or not (new readers of my work, particularly).

Also, my thanks to Monica Seiler (... ...) and Mistress Darkness (... ...), who were the first to help me with my list query about some aired French, and Andrew Boryni (... ...), who supplied information about the Toronto police in answer to another list query.

I welcome comments, criticism or whatever.

-Sandra Gray

Vengeance Will Be Mine

by Sandra Gray

FIRE!

Jacques DuPrey's vampire senses were aroused. Had anyone else been in the attic room at that moment, that person would probably not even have had time to be afraid of his yellow eyes and his fangs. But the dingy room was dark-no flames licked up the cracked and pitted plaster or over the black draped window. The door was still barred-everything still the way he'd left it when he had retired to sleep at dawn.

Then he realized-it was the dream again. Odd that he couldn't entirely shake it off. Dreams usually didn't bother him as a rule, most of his pleasurable reenactments of his attacks on mortals.

But this dream was different. At first it was just an image of flames consuming someone. But over some months, it had gradually become more. The person consumed by flames became his old comrade, LaCroix. The flames became a burning wood post that had been thrust into LaCroix's chest by...a man, although he couldn't see who. Then LaCroix became the predator, drinking the blood of a dark-haired woman. Finally, tonight, words became audible in the dream:

"Damn you! Burn in hell! Va au diable.'

It was not a dream he had often-maybe once a month-but up until tonight it had confused him. He could recall nothing in his past-no past memory-to account for this dream of LaCroix. In fact, he hadn't seen LaCroix in...almost ten centuries.

But the voice. He sat up in bed. That voice he had heard before. His thoughts went back to a memory of almost six months ago.

###

"Do we-know each other?"

"No," replied the young blonde vampire, frowning.

Jacques studied him. "You are-yes, you are one of LaCroix's."

"How did you know that?" he asked, surprised. And DuPrey said,

"A vampire always knows his children-no matter how far the blood ties are removed from him."

Sudden understanding came into the vampire's expression. Looking closely at him, he said, "Jacques DuPrey."

DuPrey bowed and said, "How is LaCroix?"

"He's dead."

###

'"He's dead."' The voice reechoed in his memory. Jacques had sensed something behind the words when he'd first heard them.

'"He's dead."'

'"Damn you! Burn in hell! Va au diable."'

And Jacques understood. This-dream-he'd been having was a memory. But someone else's memory. The memory of the vampire policeman...Knight.

Jacques snarled. The blond vampire he had battled, the mysterious vampire with the odd profession who had somehow retained goodness in his nature, the vampire he had intended to seek out again one day-that vampire had done the unthinkable. He had killed his master, LaCroix.

Jacques stood up. Any mortal who might have feared his yellow eyes and his fangs before would have been even more afraid of the red glow that gleamed from his eyes now.

"It's time I went back to Toronto," said Jacques aloud.

###

"Hi, Nat," said Detective Nicholas Knight as he entered the morgue examining room.

Dr. Natalie Lambert, the county coroner, looked up from the body she was examining and smiled at him warmly. She looked at the clock on the wall. "Hi, Nick. What are you doing here? Haven't you clocked out for the night already?"

"Yeah," said Nick. "About a half hour ago." He looked at the clock. It would be dawn soon. "You wanted me to stop by after I got off, remember?"

Natalie looked confused for a minute. Then she blinked slowly and sighed. "That's right. I did, didn't I? Sorry, Nick. It's been a long night." She covered the body of the man she had been examining and Nick watched as she rolled him off into storage. When she returned, she pulled off her protective gloves and tossed them in the medical waste bin. She washed her hands.

Nick tried to wait patiently. He realized Nat was tired, but he could feel the sun creeping closer to the horizon. Finally he said, "Nat, it's late. What did you want?"

"Another blood sample, of course," she said, pulling on fresh gloves.

Nick frowned. "Again?" Nat just looked at him. "Why can't you do this when I'm in here getting your reports?"

"Because anyone could come in and how would I explain what I'm doing?" She got a hypodermic out of her bag. "This late in the shift makes it less likely that we'll be disturbed."

"Yeah, yeah," Nick grumbled. He took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeve. Even though the prick of her needle caused him little pain, somehow the taking of his blood-even in such small amounts-felt wrong and made him uneasy. To cover this feeling, he said, smiling, "Why don't you just come over and take your sample while I'm sleeping?"

Natalie smiled slightly. "I could, but it's more convenient to take samples here where I have access to all my equipment."

Nick rolled down his sleeve and put his jacket back on. "Yeah, well, seems like there could be an easier way to do this." He smiled again. "I hope that's all you wanted."

Natalie smiled. "Yeah."

Nick knew he should probably go, but couldn't resist asking, "Are you finding out anything useful from these samples I keep giving you?"

"Well..." She looked at the clock and then back at Nick. "We can talk about that when you have more time. You'd better get going." Her large brown eyes held a somewhat sad expression. Nick hated it when she looked at him like that-when she was forced to remember that he was a vampire. It always made him wish his fantasy world was real-that he was nothing other than a good homicide detective and that he and Nat were- He looked away from her and said,

"Yeah. I'll talk to you later tonight, I guess." Then he left the room.

Natalie watched him leave. Then she held up his blood sample and looked at it. She sighed and started to prepare a slide sample of his blood for microscopic examination.

Nick got in his green caddy and slammed the door. He knew he should be grateful to Nat for all the help she had been to him so far and all the help she could be in the future. But whenever she gave him that look of almost pity... How he longed to be mortal again, to be a normal man again...maybe explore a normal mortal relationship with Natalie.

Nat had been so much help to him. She could have chosen to run from the "dead" man who had suddenly sat up-alive!-on her examining table over two years ago. Instead she had tracked him down after he'd ran and offered to help him. Due to her efforts, he could now handle crosses without catching on fire, and he shuddered to think what might have happened to him when his "unnatural" diet of animal blood caught up with him and made him ill. If she hadn't discovered that it was certain human hormonal elements from blood that he was missing, he might have been unable to stop himself from killing mortals again. Her "hormone" injection had saved him-and opened a new field of research for her. (Although he was getting a little tired of her constant requests for blood samples.)

She'd said the samples were to compare to the original one she'd taken after the hormone injection, to monitor any changes the injection might have made in his blood. She hadn't given him any more injections, and so far he had suffered no more "ill" effects from not having the "human elements." He wondered whether she was doing anything else with the samples. But he guessed she would tell him if she made any other important discovery.

The sky was rosy as he pulled into his garage. He walked up into his converted warehouse apartment and picked up his remote. He pressed some buttons and watched the shutters lower and close out the morning sun's first feeble rays.

Jacques woke hungry. But he realized as he dressed for the evening that he needed to satisfy other desires besides his thirst first.

He stepped carefully out of the deserted warehouse in which he'd taken up temporary residence-the same warehouse where he'd last encountered the blond vampire, Knight. He rose up through the roof skylight and flew off into the deepening twilight.

But not far. He soon came down near a pay phone. Luckily the phone book was still there. He picked it up and looked up the Metropolitan Police. He noticed they had a basic information number. He dialed it and a female voice answered, "Metropolitan Police. How may I help you?"

"I am trying to locate where a policeman is stationed in the city."

"His name?"

"Knight."

"His full name?"

"I-don't remember." He heard the woman sigh.

"Well, I'll check, but-" Some few moments passed and then she said, "You're in luck. There is only one Knight employed by the Metropolitan Police. Nicholas Knight. He's stationed in the 27th Precinct."

Jacques smiled. "Thank you very much." He hung up the phone and consulted the directory for the number of the 27th Precinct.

"Metro Police, 27th Precinct. Sergeant Morris."

"Yes. I'd like to speak to Mr. Knight, please."

"Detective Knight's not here right now."

'Detective Knight.' "When do you expect him?"

"He won't be in until nine. Can I give him a message?"

DuPrey's hand closed tighter on the receiver. "No," he said. "No. I'll call back. Thank you."

"Okay," said Sergeant Morris. He hung up the phone.

DuPrey consulted the phone book for the address of the 27th Precinct. His last stay in Toronto had been so brief-only a few days. Usually he didn't study a city's layouts as his interests lay in the downtown bar and night club areas, which were never hard to find on aerial surveillance. And of course those less-travelled areas for daytime havens and-entertainment purposes. It appeared that this time his stay would have to be different.

DuPrey took to the air again and touched down lightly some seconds later in an alley near the heart of downtown. It was still a little early for the normal night revelers to be out and about, although his eye was drawn to an attractive brunette approaching him as he walked on the sidewalk. His mouth watered. She slowed and looked up at him as he neared her.

DuPrey imagined what kind of appearance he must present to her. Due to his preferences for more than "street rabble" during his hunts, he tried to present a nice image-understated subtly-striped black suit that enhanced his tall, lean build and broad shoulders, black silk shirt, black silk tie. His only ornamentations to relieve his dark appearance were a ruby tie tac and a gold watch. This "uniform" was usually inconspicuous enough to not attract great notice, nor detract from his face, which was cruelly handsome with a strong mouth and nose and very compelling black eyes. Those dark eyes fastened on the woman's eyes and he knew it would be easy to compel her to go with him.

He sighed and looked away from her, letting her pass by. He'd feed later. Although it was going to be odd to have to find places to hide bodies. But he didn't want this "Detective Knight" to realize he was back in the city yet.

He frowned in irritation. He hadn't had to take precautions for so long he found it difficult to think that way. And now-he was going to have to find a police station, of all things.

DuPrey hailed a passing cab. The driver stopped and he got in. "Take me to the Metro Police's 27th Precinct."

The cab driver took off and not many minutes later pulled up in front of DuPrey's destination. DuPrey paid him and got out. He looked up at the building, then at his watch. It was a little after eight.

He walked past the building and saw a police parking area. He looked around for a spot where he had a view of the lot and the station, finally settling for the roof of an office building across the street that was not too tall. He cleared a spot in case the wait proved long and squatted.

DuPrey watched the people coming and going from the police station. A green convertible car with the hood up pulled into the police parking lot. And he got out-Detective Knight. He still looked the same. Casually dressed, his blond hair palely gleaming as he paused under the street light. He looked in Jacques' direction and DuPrey wondered if he sensed him observing from the roof. That would not do! But then the blond vampire shrugged and walked on into the police station.

'"He's dead."'

'"Damn you! Burn in hell! Va au diable."'

DuPrey growled slightly. "Soon you will pay for your sacrilege," he whispered.

He looked at his watch. 9:00 p.m. Jacques settled more comfortably on his cleared spot of roof. Patient waiting was his aim now-a boring, but necessary, evil if he was to find out all he could about his adversary.

After a half hour, Detective Knight came back out of the station, a darker man with him. They walked quickly to the green convertible, got in, and the car sped out of the lot.

DuPrey took to the air, staying high and out of the lights as much as he could. He kept the green car in sight and followed it to a run down hotel downtown. He landed on a building across the street and watched as "Detective Knight" and his companion got out of the car. The blond vampire looked around briefly, then he and his partner entered the hotel. Soon an ambulance was on the scene.

Then DuPrey noticed that the green convertible's front windows were open.

DuPrey dropped down behind the building he was on and walked nonchalantly across the street. A small crowd had gathered outside the hotel and there was a bustle from the ambulance attendants, who were carrying a stretcher into the building. DuPrey approached the passenger side of the green car, carefully watching the crowd and the hotel entrance. When he was reasonably sure that he was not being observed, he moved quickly-checking first the sun visor and then the dash.

Anyone looking in his direction would see, he knew, only a vague dark blur of movement. He found what he wanted in the glove compartment: the car registration. "Nicholas Knight, 101 Gateway Lane, Toronto," he read silently. He slipped the registration back into the glove compartment and moved away from the car.

The ambulance attendants were returning with a shrouded body. Jacques looked around at the crowd; no one was paying any attention to him. He turned and walked quickly across the street and into an alley.

Foolish vampire-to leave his vehicle unlocked and unguarded. Even if he was a policeman. A vampire working with and for mortals. What did that mean?

Jacques wasn't sure he cared to know. But there was something he did want to know. What was this odd vampire's haven like?

###

"I say it's a murder/suicide," said Don Schanke.

"Well, it does look that way," said Nick. "But in a hotel?"

"Hey, who knows? This is a pretty sleazy dive. Maybe she had a lover on the side. He found out, shot her, then shot himself." Schanke bent down to more closely examine the woman's body, brushing the dyed blonde curls away from her heavily made up face.

"Yeah," said Nick, a little doubtful.

"The simple explanation is the one that fits the facts." Nick watched the forensics people take their pictures and gather the evidence. The dead man had already been examined and removed; they were now examining the dead woman. She was an attractive woman under the makeup, the man less so from what he could tell considering that part of his face had been blown away by what had looked like a point-blank pistol shot to the head. The woman had been shot square in the chest-very neat for a crime of passion.

Passion. "What about her lover, Schanke?"

"Huh?" said Schanke, straightening up.

"What about her lover? A crime of passion like you describe usually includes a dead lover too."

Schanke shifted from one foot to the other, frowning slightly. "Well, maybe he didn't show for some reason."

"Or maybe he did and left."

Schanke frowned deeper. "What are you thinking?"

"Maybe he got away. Uninjured."

"Or if he was injured-"

"He fled. For some reason."

Schanke turned to one of the forensics people. "I want you to gather lots of blood samples, okay? And plenty of prints."

"Sure."

Nick looked again at the woman. At one time, all the blood in the room would have bothered him a good deal. The scent of it still made him slightly queasy. But otherwise he was able to control his reactions. He had had better control since Natalie's "hormone" injection.

Nick and Schanke moved back out into the hall. They questioned the neighboring hotel guests from the room on the left (the room on the right was empty) and the other guests from the floor who had gathered in the hall. None of them were very cooperative. As Schanke had noted, it was a sleazy dive. Very few people wanted to get involved with a police investigation.

Forensics finished and the ambulance attendants came and took the woman's body away. They sealed the door of the hotel room with yellow police tape.

Nick and Schanke walked downstairs. They questioned the desk clerk, an Al Pinetti, but he claimed to know nothing. Nick left his phone number in case the man remembered anything.

Then he and Schanke walked out to Nick's car. Schanke got in right away, but Nick hesitated slightly before getting in. He sensed...what? He wasn't sure. He got in the car, but inside the sensation was stronger. He frowned.

"Schanke to Knight!" Nick looked at his partner. "We going back to the station or are we going to sit here all night?"

Nick blinked and said, "Sorry, Schanke. My mind was...wandering." He started the car.

"Just don't let it go wandering while you're driving, okay? I want to live to see my retirement."

Nick smiled. "Don't worry." But as he drove off, he couldn't shake the feeling that his car had been-invaded in some way. He pulled over to the curb and stopped.

"What are we stopping for?"

Nick got out of the car and checked the trunk. Nothing looked disturbed. He got back in the car. There was nothing on his sun visors, nothing missing from the dash. "You mind telling me what you're looking for?" asked Schanke.

Nick sat back in his seat. "Nothing." He paused and added, "It's nothing." Schanke gave him an exasperated look.

"So can we go to the station now?"

"Sure," said Nick, with a small smile. He restarted the car and drove to police headquarters. Once there, he said, "I'll be in in a minute." Schanke frowned and shook his head. Then he walked into the station house.

Nick looked around the interior of the car once more. Then he rolled up the car windows. And locked the doors.

Jacques got into the cab and said, "101 Gateway Lane, please." He sat back and watched the city pass by. He was not surprised when the vehicle drove into an old commercial area of the city. The streets were fronted by older, darkened business buildings-many of them older brick warehouses.

The cab stopped in front of one of these "warehouses." This building was also dark. "This is 101 Gateway Lane," said the cab driver. "But don't look like anyone's here. You sure you want to get out here?"

Jacques merely paid the man and got out of the cab. After the cab drove away, he looked at 101 Gateway Lane. The door itself was metal and there was a numbered keypad on the wall next to it. A coded security lock. He looked further along the building. There was a garage door, also locked.

He looked up at the second story windows, then flew up to them. The windows were closed off by what seemed to be steel panels which apparently retreated into channels at the tops of the windows. The third story windows also had these "shutters," as did a skylight on the roof.

Jacques looked at the skylight more closely. It seemed this Detective Knight was not so trusting when it came to his haven. And, considering the man had police training and, judging by the security door lock, perhaps some electronic knowledge as well, Jacques could only assume there was an alarm system built into the windows also. But he could try to break in.

Jacques stood on the roof for a moment, thinking. Knight was working and following him around all night would accomplish little. But breaking into the vampire's haven might also be a mistake-perhaps even a difficulty.

There was another source of information he could try. But it was something he had not done in centuries. And first he'd need blood.

He could talk to LaCroix.

###

The vampire bowed, his dark eyes, however, never leaving Nick. "How is LaCroix?"

"He's dead," said Nick, not without some satisfaction. Nick had finally come to terms with LaCroix's evil when he had found Nick again in Toronto. He had paid LaCroix back for the murders of his loves with the stake and with fire.

DuPrey sighed. "Too bad. We shared some interesting times." Then his face hardened. "But you-you would oppose me?"

"I must. Surely you understand the danger you're presenting to the other vampires here."

"You mean the cult in the Raven? What are they to me? I am the avenging angel of Satan-my mission to send as many mortal souls to his domain as possible!"

"The cult you belonged to is finished," said Nick. At least he hoped so.

"But its purpose has not. We are vampires. It is our sacred duty."

"It's not my duty."

"So I see," said DuPrey, his expression dark. "Then you are my enemy." His eyes turned yellow again and he bared his fangs, growling.

###

"Nick... Hey, Nick," came Schanke's voice into his consciousness. The memory of DuPrey abruptly faded.

Nick looked at his partner. "What?" he said.

"Nat called to say she's finished the autopsies on the hotel deaths. Since it's slow right now, I thought you'd like to drive over and see what she can tell us."

Nick got up from his chair. At the moment, anything would be more interesting than the paperwork on the Jimson murder. He couldn't seem to concentrate or make sense of the mass of information in the folder. He shut it and said, "Yeah. Let's go."

The car was stuffy and Schanke wasted no time rolling down his window. "Getting a bit paranoid, are we?"

Nick paused in rolling down his window. "No. Why?"

"Well, locking your car, rolling up the windows on such a nice night-"

"There's nothing wrong with being careful."

"In the police parking lot? You afraid Morris is gonna hot wire your car and take a joy ride?"

Nick smiled. "Of course not." He started the car.

"Caution's not like you. What's up?"

Nick looked out the window. "The sky is up," he said, pulling the car out of the police lot.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. What about the way you were checking over your car earlier tonight?"

"Schanke-"

"Okay, okay. I realize-your car's a classic. Geez, if you paid as much attention to some girls as you do this car-"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Schanke arched an eyebrow at his partner and smirked. "Well, Nat could have sent a courier over with her report. I think she just likes to see you."

Nick glanced at Schanke, then looked back to the road. "Nat and I are just friends."

"Mmm. Well, I don't think she'd mind being more than friends, comprende?"

###

"I love you, Nick," she said breathlessly.

###

Nick's hands tightened on the steering wheel. But he kept his voice even as he said, "I can manage my own-love life, Schanke."

Schanke shrugged. "Just a suggestion. She spends way too much time in the morgue."

"Well, why don't you ask Myra for some help? You've said she likes to fix people up with each other."

Schanke looked at Nick. He opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it.

Nick turned the talk back to police business for the rest of the ride to the morgue.

They found Natalie working at her computer. She had a ready smile for both of them.

"Hi, guys."

"Hey, Nat," said Schanke. Nick merely smiled at her.

Natalie picked up two folders from her desk and handed one to each of them. Schanke pursed his lips and read silently. Nick glanced down the report on the woman, Lily Gardner. "So she was sitting up in bed when she was shot?"

"Judging by the bullet's trajectory path, I'd have to say so," said Natalie. "Her-killer was an excellent shot."

Nick switched folders with Schanke and read the report on Don Hartman. "But he committed suicide, right?" asked Schanke.

"The wound is consistent with suicide, yes."

"What about the gun? Were his prints the only ones on it?" asked Nick.

Natalie looked at Nick. "Yes. Why? Do you have some reason to think it wasn't a suicide?"

"Just trying to cover all the bases. The blood types found were just the ones listed on these reports?"

"Well, I haven't checked all the forensic evidence yet, but so far those are the only blood types I've found."

"See, I told you," said Schanke. "Murder/suicide."

Nick glanced at Schanke, then looked back at Natalie. "Well, if you come up with any other blood types or other conflicting evidence, let me know."

"Sure," said Natalie, frowning slightly.

Schanke looked from Natalie to Nick. Then he took the folder from Nick and said, "I'll take these out to the car." Nick watched as his partner left the room. Then he looked at Natalie.

"You're not sure it's a murder/suicide?" she asked.

"I don't know. Schanke thinks she had a lover on the side. But if she did, where is he?" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I'm finding it hard to think very clearly about cases lately."

Natalie frowned slightly. "You feel okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just too many case loads right now, I guess."

"Well, Schanke may be right on this one, Nick. Every murder isn't complex, you know."

"I know." He hesitated, then said, "How was the sample?"

"Pretty similar to the others except..."

"Except?" Nick said, frowning.

Natalie smiled. "There's been an elevation in normal white blood cells. Not a lot but-"

"It's good?"

"The white blood cells fight infection, Nick. If you can limit or eliminate your intake of blood, they might become strong enough to throw off that weird virus you have."

"The one you think keeps me-the way I am?"

Natalie nodded. "But you've got to try to lay off the blood."

Nick smiled. "I'll do my best," he assured her. Her news was encouraging; it gave him hope that following her advice would actually work. If he could escape his curse... "Well, I'd better go. Call me if you find anything unusual about this hotel case. And-thanks, Nat."

"For what?"

"All your effort. And all your help." Natalie's dark eyes stayed fixed on his blue ones for a moment. Then she looked down and said,

"It's nothing I wouldn't do for any other...friend."

Nick reached out and took her hands. Her eyes met his again and he wanted to say that he wanted them to be more than friends. But that would have to wait until he was not a vampire any more. He let her hands go and said, "Schanke's waiting."

Natalie licked her lips, but said, "Go on, get back to work! You're wasting taxpayer dollars!" They smiled at each other. Then Nick left.

After Nick got in the car, Schanke said, "So. Did you ask her out?"

"Ask her out?" said Nick, frowning slightly. "No. We just discussed the case some more."

Schanke sighed and shook his head. "You got something against Nat?" he asked.

"No," said Nick slowly.

"Then why don't you ask her out? I bet she'd go out with you."

"I told you, Schanke. Nat and I are just good friends."

"If you ask me, you're wasting your opportunities, pal."

Nick shook his head and smiled a little. Then he started the car and headed back to the police station.

"I mean, Nat's intelligent, attractive, witty. I bet she'd be a good mother too," Schanke continued.

Nick frowned slightly. Schanke was a family man so it was natural for him to think in those terms. And he was right-with her caring nature, Nat would be a good mother. If he escaped his curse of vampirism, would he be able to have a family? He knew from his experiences with Janette that he could still function, but he was almost 800 years old. There was no guarantee that he was still capable of fathering children. But, since he didn't know Nick was a vampire, there was no way Schanke could know of his concerns.

Nick kept silent and was glad when Schanke decided to drop the subject. They talked about the hotel case and a couple of others on the way back to the station.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. Nick and Schanke spent it questioning various witnesses in various cases, none of which led to any major breakthroughs in solving said cases. Nick was glad when it was finally time to clock out.

He was weary when he finally got home. He trudged slowly over to the fridge and reached for a bottle of blood. Then he put it away again, unopened. Maybe he should hold off on drinking blood for a while. He was more tired than hungry anyway.

Yawning, he went upstairs and to bed.

Jacques looked carefully at the mostly stolen items that he had gathered into one end of the warehouse in which he was staying. He mentally ticked off each item against his memory of the spell's requirements. It had been a very long time since he had attempted an occult ritual such as the one he was now contemplating. Centuries.

His service to the Master had been simplified for several centuries. Pick those mortals who were lost-not the street rabble who were already His, but those mortals who didn't know that their unwillingness to pick sides already condemned them, those mortals who sought pleasures as their only rewards and thought themselves masters of their fates. These mortals he sent to the Master in abundance, the strength and power of their blood his reward.

Once he had reveled in the power he had as leader of the Cult. But that was before he found his clarity of vision. He first had had to suffer defeat at the hands of righteous mortals-not once, but twice. And suffered the cowardness of his own Cult members. Anger at their desertion flared even now after all these many years.

Even LaCroix, his closest comrade, had deserted him the second time.

Jacques frowned. He wondered briefly-why bother? He wasn't sure himself. Past memories of his best pupil perhaps. Had things gone differently, Jacques would have left LaCroix in charge of the Cult while he left France to found another.

Or maybe it was just curiosity-about what happened, about how LaCroix could have failed so completely, about how LaCroix could have so misjudged his "child."

Jacques went through the items one more time. He had everything he needed except for one thing-fresh blood. He would need a male for the ritual. He looked at his watch. It was almost two a.m. The bars would be closing; it shouldn't be hard to find someone. He left the warehouse and flew to the downtown area.

It wasn't long before he spied his prey-a young man walking alone in a bar parking lot. Jacques eyed the long leather coat the man had on-a fashion statement, as it was too pleasant an evening to need it for warmth.

Swiftly Jacques approached the man from the shadows. A slightly surprised look crossed the man's face before Jacques clipped him on the neck. He slumped, unconscious, and Jacques caught him before he hit the ground. Then he flew with the man up into the night sky.

At the warehouse, he removed the man's coat, then tied his hands and feet with rope. He put a gag in his mouth. Then, picking a spot under a metal crossbeam in the ceiling, he began to set up the Calling Circle.

When he had finished arranging the candles, incense, grave soil and other items, his primary ceremonial ingredient was stirring. Jacques walked over to him. The man struggled to free himself as he watched, making small mewling noises through his gag. Jacques smiled. Pathetic mortal. The wild beating of the man's heart made his mouth water. He hadn't fed yet and only a relatively small amount of blood was necessary for the ritual. No use wasting him.

Jacques pulled the man upright and bared his fangs. His blood was sweet, but there was an alcohol tang to it. So Jacques restrained his natural impulse and drank only enough to send the man unconscious. He did not want his thoughts fogged for the ritual.

Jacques carried the unconscious man over to the ceremonial area. He laid him down outside the large circle. He tied one end of a long rope to his feet. The other end he carried up and over the metal beam. Then he hoisted the man aloft until he was suspended some three feet over the center of the circle. After the body stopped swaying, Jacques walked into the center of the circle with the final ingredients-crushed human bone and a silver dagger.

He spoke the first words of the ritual as he traced a small one foot circle under the man's head with the bone fragments. Then he took the dagger and slit the man's throat. As the blood dripped into the inner circle, he chanted around the body within the confines of the outer circle and finished with, "By the power of He who is Master of this world, I command you, spirit of LaCroix, to come to me in this circle." The blood that had pooled in the confines of the bone fragments began to boil as though some fire heated it. Jacques waited expectantly.

The blood continued to drop and boil...

But no spirit of LaCroix showed itself to him.

Jacques repeated his command-to no effect. The man's blood pushed its way through the barrier of bone. Jacques bowed his head and frowned.

Had he done something wrong?

No, he was sure he remembered the ritual.

But then why hadn't LaCroix come, as commanded? The ritual should have summoned his disembodied spirit. The blood in the inner circle had stopped boiling and was starting to congeal.

Jacques watched for a few minutes as the "sacrifice" dripped the last of the blood from his veins. Then he snarled, eyes red, and cut the man down, letting him fall into the pool of his own blood.

After a few more minutes, Jacques picked up the dead man. He rose with him through the skylight and flew out over the lake. He dropped the body into the quiet, dark water. Then he flew back to the warehouse.

He looked at the ceremonial circle. He was sure he'd done the calling ritual correctly. Why hadn't LaCroix come? Could it be he wasn't dead? But, if not dead, why had he had the dream that Knight had killed him?

Dawn was approaching. DuPrey went off to the office he had converted to his sleeping area. As he removed his blood-stained clothes (ruined a good suit, he thought irritably), he went over all his ritual preparations and actions. He had made no errors, he was sure.

Then where was LaCroix?

###

DuPrey relaxed his grip on Nick's throat. He smiled at Nick and said, "No, I won't kill you now." Nick gasped for breath. He tried to move, throw off DuPrey, but the vampire held him in an immobile grip. "You intrigue me. I can see why LaCroix chose you."

"Why?" Nick croaked.

"For your goodness. Somehow-you have not lost it." The sound of sirens approaching in the night made the renegade look up briefly. Then he looked again at Nick. "How have you managed to preserve your goodness in the face of your corruption?"

###

Nick came awake, red sweat on his brow. He sat up in bed and took a quick breath.

His heart was beating rapidly, stimulated, he guessed, by the memory of his battle with Jacques DuPrey. Was it just six months ago that he had fought him?

And odd that he should dream of him when he was just thinking about the vampire yesterday. He passed a hand over his brow and got out of bed. Now that he was awake, his body retreated from its heightened defense mode.

Nick walked downstairs to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of blood. He was tempted to chug some of the liquid straight from the bottle, but forced himself to take down a glass and pour only a small amount. As he drank it, he thought again about DuPrey.

Jacques DuPrey was a wanton killer, with no respect for either mortal laws or vampire traditions. He had murdered three women (almost a fourth) before he had decided to leave Toronto. It still galled Nick that he had been unable to stand alone against LaCroix's creator. But the vampire had simply been too powerful for one vampire alone to handle. Or at least too powerful for him to handle. He could have killed Nick and even now Nick wondered why he had not. For whatever whim, the vampire had decided to leave Toronto, the murders he had committed consigned to the unsolved cases files. But someday, Nick promised himself, he would make DuPrey pay for them.

But why dream about DuPrey?

Maybe it was due to the hopeful signs for recovery he had had from Nat. With LaCroix dead, Jacques DuPrey was a force who might want to see him continue as a vampire. Or maybe it was just some fear that he wouldn't be allowed to achieve mortality.

DuPrey had promised they would meet again. But Nick hardly thought it would be so soon after their first meeting. After all, DuPrey didn't want to be mortal. And he didn't know that Nick did. As far as DuPrey was concerned, he had eternity to seek Nick out again.

Nick sighed. He rinsed the glass in the sink and put the bottle of blood back in the refrigerator. He looked at the clock on his stove. It was only an hour until he needed to get up and go to work. He decided he might as well stay up.

###

When twilight had deepened into night, Jacques DuPrey emerged from his warehouse haven. He had on a fresh suit; the bloodstained one from the previous night was secreted in a spot above one of the suspended ceiling tiles in his "bedroom." The sight of the burned out Calling Circle met his eyes in the large storage area. He had been too disgusted at the failure of the ceremony to clean it up. He still didn't care. The candles and incense had long expired into disheveled heaps on the floor which, fortunately, was cement. Ignoring the mess, he stepped out into the night.

It appeared he was going to have to try other methods of discovering what had happened between LaCroix and his "child," Nicholas Knight. Taking to the air, he decided to fly by the blond vampire's apartment. With any luck, he'd be able to discover more there.

Jacques was in luck. As he touched down on the roof of a building across the street, he saw that the windows on the second floor of 101 Gateway Lane had their shutters raised. Some lights were on and he saw movement. Jacques waited to see what he could discover.

At about 8:30, the vampire drove off in his green convertible.

This time he had left his windows unshuttered.

Jacques flew over to the windows on the second floor. He could see now that they were protected by alarm, but that didn't concern him right now. He looked into the large room revealed by the windows with interest.

It was a comfortable looking haven, filled with art and statues and antiques mixed with modern, but comfortable looking dark furniture. It was a male abode, however, which meant that the vampire lived alone or preferred male companions. Jacques imagined his prettiness had been a lure for LaCroix.

The area near what seemed to be an elevator door looked familiar. It was-yes, it was the same area visible in his dream! LaCroix had been impaled against that door with a burning wood shaft; he remembered it clearly from his dream. That meant the dream had been real-a real memory of Nicholas Knight.

But if that was so, why hadn't Jacques been able to recall LaCroix's spirit from beyond? If LaCroix was truly dead, the spell should not have failed to bring him to the circle.

Unless-was it possible that the memory was not a memory at all but a fantasy? Jacques frowned and shook his head. No, he couldn't believe something so vivid in detail was a fantasy. LaCroix was dead and Knight had killed him.

Jacques wondered if he should try to break into the building now that the shutters were not an additional barrier. He decided against it. He doubted very much that the blond vampire had any "confession" of his murderous crime readily available.

Besides, Knight had been no match for him before. There was no reason to think he would be a match for him now.

No, the thing to do now was wait to get the vampire alone. Then he would wring the truth from him and send his miserable soul to the Hell he deserved.

"Hey, partner!" said Schanke. He quickly approached Nick as Nick entered the station. "Something interesting's popped up in that murder/suicide case."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" said Nick.

"I ran the stiffs' fingerprints through the database. Turns out Don Hartman was really a Don Morelli, originally wanted in New York for a couple of 'hits' on rival criminal elements."

"Mafia?"

"You got it. Not a major player, or he would have been more careful about the cops fingering him."

"Well, that explains why he was such a good shot," said Nick.

"Yeah. But even hit guys can let their hearts rule their heads."

"Maybe."

"C'mon, Nick! There's still no evidence that it wasn't a murder/suicide."

"Then why did you mention he was a wanted hit man?"

"Just...being thorough."

"So you're not bothered by the lack of a 'lover?'"

Schanke sighed and made a face. "You're determined to run us ragged on this one, aren't you?" Nick merely looked at him. "Okay. I guess we can dig a little deeper."

"I think we should go question the desk clerk again. He seemed a bit evasive to me the first time." Schanke sighed again. "And I still would have wanted to do it, despite what you found out."

"You know, partner, sometimes you're just a little too thorough?"

Nick smiled and led Schanke out to his car. They drove to the hotel, where the night clerk, Al Pinetti, was on duty. Mr. Pinetti didn't look that happy to see them, although his greeting to them was friendly enough. "Good evening, officers. What can I do for you gents tonight?"

"We have some more questions for you about the murder here," said Nick.

"I thought you had decided it was a murder followed by the murderer's suicide."

"Did you know Don Hartman's real name was Don Morelli?"

Mr. Pinetti looked a bit uncomfortable and busily wiped the small speckled Formica counter that he stood behind with a hanky. "No," he said, not looking at them.

Nick grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and pulled him tight against the counter. "Are you sure? I'm not too concerned by the small criminal acts that go on in this hotel, Mr. Pinetti, but harboring a wanted murderer can get you in a hell of a lot of trouble."

"Okay, okay! I knew his name was Morelli. But he never stayed here!"

Nick felt the truth of the man's statement, but didn't let him go. "What was Morelli doing here last night?"

"Lily-Lily was his girl. He'd found out she was seeing someone on the side."

"Who?" The man didn't answer. "Who?" Nick repeated.

"Tony Vicente."

"Was he here last night too?" Pinetti was silent. "Did he tell you not to say anything about it?"

"He said-he'd kill me if I did."

"Why?"

"Hey, I don't know! C'mon man, I don't wanna die!"

"You won't die if you tell us everything you know," said Schanke. "The police will protect you if necessary."

Pinetti glanced at Schanke, then looked again at Nick. "I don't know that much. Tony-he'd meet Lily here. Like I said, Morelli found out. Tried to kill them."

"But Vicente wasn't injured last night."

"No. No-he hid in the room next door until the excitement got going. Then he snuck out before the cops got here."

"Where can we find Vicente?" asked Nick.

Pinetti's face got a fearful look again and his eyes darted from Nick to Schanke and then back to Nick. Nick sensed resistance and didn't feel like spending a lot more time dragging the information out of Pinetti. He concentrated his hypnotic powers on the man, locking Pinetti's gaze to his own. He focused on Pinetti's increased heartbeat, slowing it to match the slightly faster rate he had increased his own heartbeat to. Pinetti's face took on a blank expression and he said, "Concord Arms Apartments, number 12 C."

Nick smiled and released his hypnotic hold on the man. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Pinetti. We'll be in touch." He released Pinetti and turned to go, Schanke following.

"Hey, wait! What'm I supposed to do now?"

"We'll have someone come by to take you into protective custody," said Nick over his shoulder.

Nick and Schanke walked out to Nick's car and got into it, Nick saying, "Call it in."

As they drove off, Schanke got on the radio to the station. "This is 81 Kilo." He requested the protective custody for Pinetti, then added, "I need you to run a background check on a Tony Vicente-that's V-I-C-E-N-T-E?, I think. And pronto."

"Roger, 81 Kilo." In a few minutes, the female voice came back with, "Vicente, Tony. Criminal record. One conviction-assault. Charged with attempted murder-charges dropped. Currently wanted for questioning in the murder of Anthony Morelli, New York, 1991." Schanke raised an eyebrow at Nick, then said,

"Copy, HQ." He looked at Nick again. "Sounds like a real family affair."

Nick glanced at his partner. "Yeah."

"Should we call for backup?"

"Couldn't hurt." Schanke called in the request. Shortly afterwards, the two detectives pulled up outside the older, three story Concord Arms Apartments. They walked up to the third floor and soon stood before the door of apartment 12 C. Nick motioned to Schanke to stand to one side. Schanke obeyed, drawing his gun. Nick knocked on the door. There was the sound of footsteps and the door opened a crack. A handsome, olive-complexioned man peered out at Nick. "Tony Vicente?" Nick said.

"Yeah. Who wants to know?"

Nick flashed his badge. "I'm Detective Nick Knight, Metro Police. I'd like to question you about the deaths of Don Hartman and Lily Gardner."

"Don't know 'em," said Vicente. He started to shut the door.

"That's not the information I have," said Nick. "I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the station with me."

Vicente's dark brown eyes studied Nick. "Okay, just let me get my coat." Nick felt the lie, but before he could move, Vicente shut and locked the door. Nick drew out his gun and kicked the door open. The living room was empty. Nick rushed through to the bedroom, where the curtains at the window billowed in the light night breeze. Nick ran over to the window. Vicente was already halfway down the fire escape. "Schanke, cover the front!" he shouted. Schanke disappeared into the hall.

After Schanke was gone, Nick flew out the window and tackled Vicente just as he was stepping off the fire escape and onto the ground. He pushed Vicente up against the wall. "You got no rights to hold me, cop!" said the taller, dark haired man.

"You're probably right. But if necessary, I can get a warrant." He felt a bulge under the man's jacket near his waist and pulled Vicente's coat open, saying with a smile, "You do have a permit to carry that on the streets, don't you?" Vicente merely glared at Nick. Nick grimly took the gun from him and tucked it in his belt. "I didn't think so." He was putting cuffs on the man when Schanke appeared.

They loaded Vicente into a standard police cruiser that had arrived on the scene and followed the car back to headquarters. Vicente was booked for carrying a concealed and unlicensed weapon. Schanke wandered off to get a printout of Vicente's criminal record, then joined Nick and the man in the interrogation room. After a good deal of questioning (aided with a little hypnosis by Nick), they got the rest of the story. Vicente had used Lily in an effort to get to Morelli. Morelli had killed Lily and would have killed him too, but Vicente had surprised him and in the struggle between them, killed him. "It was self defense, man. If I'd've killed him, you guys would never've been able to pin it on me."

"But you did want to kill him," said Nick. "You wanted to set him up through Lily Gardner."

"Stupid bitch! She wasn't worth the time he spent on her."

"This Anthony Morelli, whose murder you're wanted for questioning about. He was Don Morelli's brother?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

Nick caught the man's gaze and held it with his own, exerting his hypnotic influence again. "Just curious as to why you'd want to kill his brother Don."

Nick sensed some resistance on Vicente's part to replying before the man said, "The Morelli brothers wasted my cousin Leo."

"So you wanted revenge-is that it?"

"Yeah. Revenge. Leo did nothin'!" He paused and then asserted, "But I didn't kill Don Morelli. It was self defense. And you got no proof that I did!"

Nick sighed. He sensed the truth of Vicente's claim that it was self defense. Anthony Morelli-that might be another matter. But one better left up to the New York City police.

"When do I get outta here?" asked Vicente.

"You've been charged with carrying a concealed weapon. Plus you're wanted for questioning by the New York City police department. I think you're going to be here for a while." Nick walked over to the door and summoned another officer to escort Vicente to the holding cell in the basement. Vicente glared at Nick as he was led away, but said nothing more.

"Think he was telling the truth about it being self defense?" asked Schanke.

Nick sighed. "Yeah, I do. We've got no hard evidence to suggest otherwise."

Schanke sighed. "Well, at least it's one case solved."

"That wasn't a simple 'murder/suicide,'" Nick couldn't resist reminding him.

"Yeah, you don't need to rub it in!" He sighed again. "Well, guess we'd better finish the paperwork."

Nick echoed Schanke's sigh, then headed out of the room and to his desk.

Jacques returned to the warehouse. It was still early-only four a.m.-but he had wearied of the fruitless waiting for Nicholas Knight to be done with his shift. The man had a mundane job, which meant that soon he would have to have a night off. And when he did...

So instead he went off on a hunt. It was too late to go to his usual hunting grounds (the normal bars and night clubs) so he made do with "street rabble"-an old drunk down by the lakeside dock area. After draining him dry, Jacques ripped off his head and pushed his body into the water. The head he carried back with him to the warehouse.

As he stepped into the warehouse, though, his somewhat fogged senses snapped alert. There was someone there, standing near the defunct Calling Circle. It was a young woman with short dark hair. Aroused by the prospect of a proper fear-filled meal, Jacques quietly put down the head he carried and crept closer to her.

The woman turned and he took a step back. Despite the darkness, his vision showed him plain as day a woman he had seen before. It was the woman in his dream of LaCroix, the woman he had seen LaCroix attacking. He turned on his sensitive hearing. Her heartbeat was all wrong for a mortal; she was a vampire like himself! "Who are you?" he asked. "What do you want here?"

The woman looked at him like she had been stunned senseless or something. She didn't speak. "I said, who are you?" asked Jacques, circling her.

"Alyce," she replied hesitantly, turning to keep her face to him. She stumbled a little over one of the burnt out candles and crossed over the burned out barrier into the circle.

"Alyce who?" asked Jacques.

But her face and dark eyes had gone blank. In a deeper, masculine voice, she said, "Jacques?"

Jacques' eyes widened.

"LaCroix?"

Jacques stepped into the Calling Circle and reached for the dark-haired woman's-'Alyce, wasn't it?'-hands. He pulled her further into the circle. She made no move to resist him and her eyes and face kept their blank expression.

"LaCroix. How is it that you speak through this woman?" The "woman" merely looked at him. "LaCroix, speak to me!" he commanded in a strong voice.

The woman blinked, then frowned at him. "My-my name is Alyce. Alyce Hunter."

Jacques frowned, confused. A moment ago LaCroix's voice had come from this vampire, calling him by name. Since he usually avoided his own kind, there was no reasonable reason why she would know who he was. And he certainly had never seen her before-except in his dream.

The dream. This vampire had been involved in LaCroix's end-was that why she was here? Was some force preventing LaCroix's spirit from coming to the circle? Something that had forced LaCroix to send this "child" of his in his place?

Jacques put on a calmer manner. "Why have you come here?" he asked.

Alyce frowned slightly. "I-I don't know. I felt-drawn here."

"Where did you come from?"

"Buffalo... Who are you? Why am I here?"

"My name is Jacques DuPrey. As for why you're here, I have not discovered that yet."

Alyce looked away briefly, then back at him. "You mentioned LaCroix."

"Yes. Your creator. What do you remember of him?"

Alyce frowned again, then a look of fear crossed her face. "He-he attacked me. When I wanted Nick to..." Her voice trailed away.

Jacques frowned. "Had this woman been "involved" with Nicholas Knight? "Do you remember what happened to LaCroix?"

"No," replied Alyce. Actually, he hadn't expected another answer. If his dream was the memory he thought it was, this woman had been unconscious and in the process of changing when LaCroix was killed. Suddenly her face took on a different, harder expression and she said, in LaCroix's voice again, "Trapped."

"LaCroix? What do you mean by trapped? How are you trapped?" Alyce merely looked at him, a confused expression on her face. Jacques took hold of her upper arms and shook her. "Answer me! LaCroix!"

Alyce whimpered in pain but otherwise said nothing. Jacques drew back one arm and slapped her-so hard she fell unconscious to the floor, her head landing in the inner circle. He sighed. He was letting his frustration get the better of him. Now he'd have to wait for her to come to before he could question her some more.

She began to stir. Jacques raised his eyebrows. Perhaps she was not quite the "baby" he'd assumed, after all. Her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes. But she made no move to get up.

"Jacques," she said, but in LaCroix's voice again. Jacques knelt down beside her.

"I'm here, LaCroix. Tell me how it is you speak through this woman."

"Trapped," said LaCroix.

"You're trapped? Trapped how? Tell me what you mean, LaCroix."

Alyce's eyelids began to flutter shut again. Jacques took hold of her arms, ready to shake her awake again if necessary. Her eyelids popped open again at his touch and she whispered one word in LaCroix's voice.

"In...side."

Then her eyelids closed and Jacques released her, sitting back on his heels with a frown.

Inside! What did that mean? Unless... The Calling Circle was used to summon disembodied spirits. But LaCroix had not come. Instead, this "Alyce Hunter" had been drawn here-and spoke to him with LaCroix's voice.

Jacques stood and looked thoughtfully at the unconscious woman. Could it be? Could LaCroix's spirit be trapped in Alyce Hunter's body?

If LaCroix was in the woman, that meant he was still earthbound. And if that was so then...

There might be a way to bring LaCroix back to "life" again.

###

Jacques made the preparations for the ancient ceremony with a great deal of concentration and thought. It was crucial that nothing go wrong. Because if he failed in the execution of this ritual, LaCroix would be lost. He would be drawn beyond this world and his only chance at corporeal existence again would be through the Master.

Alyce Hunter watched him from a distance. When he had noticed her approach, Jacques had ordered her to come no closer and to not interfere with his activities in any way.

Actually, she was simple to control because of her youth as a vampire. When she had finally regained consciousness last night, Jacques had hypnotized her in an effort to reach LaCroix again. It hadn't worked, but he was at least able to get her story of what had happened the night LaCroix "died." She apparently was not "aware" that she carried LaCroix's spirit inside her body, although occasionally Jacques caught some of LaCroix's mannerisms from her.

He'd learned LaCroix had been "killed" two years ago. Alyce had existed alone since then. She had had no contacts with other vampires and from what he could gather had lived as little more than an animal-perhaps as a result of having two entities in the same body. Jacques was amazed that she had been able to live without any training, but maybe LaCroix had been able to exert at least a subconscious influence on her actions.

Now that she was back in Toronto, however, she was beginning to regain more of her previous personality. She sometimes remembered her job, her former friends and family, and Nicholas Knight. Jacques decided it was vital to keep a tight rein on her-at least until after the ritual (and maybe longer). So he used his hypnotic powers to compel her to stay with him in the warehouse. When dawn arrived, he shared his lair with her (even though doing so did disturb his rest).

Now she said, "I'm hungry."

Jacques looked at her. "I know. We will feed after the ceremony."

"I'm hungry now."

"I said after the ceremony!" said Jacques, glaring at her.

Alyce looked down. "All right." Then she looked at him again. "But what is this ceremony you want to do?"

"It's not important that you know that. I have to go out for more...ingredients. You stay here. And touch nothing of what I've gathered already."

Alyce nodded. Jacques left her.

He had to find another suitable candidate for the new ritual he was going to perform. Another male. A very specific male.

Jacques walked through the downtown bar district. He avoided the Raven and walked into another bar. A quick look around revealed no suitable prospects. He went on to the next bar.

His luck was better there. A man of the proper height and build-even age-drank alone at the end of the bar. Jacques approached him.

"DuVivier, is that you?" asked Jacques.

The man turned bleary blue eyes on him. "Ya got the wrong guy. I'm not no Du- Du-, whatever you said."

Jacques studied him and said, "Yes, you're right. Forgive me. But you do so resemble an-old friend-of mine."

The man grunted and turned back to his drink. Except for the mousy brown hair and a certain dissipated, flaccid look to his facial features, he might almost have been LaCroix. "I'd like to apologize by buying you a drink."

The man turned his watery blue and bloodshot eyes on him. As Jacques guessed, the man had an unhealthy love of drink, as he smiled and said, "Okay."

"But," said Jacques, "I know a better bar than this one." The man's smile started to fade. Jacques began to concentrate his powers to hypnotize, matching his heartbeat to that of his quarry. "You will love this bar, I assure you." The man got a somewhat blank expression. "Shall we go now?"

"Sure, okay," said the man. Jacques pulled out some money which he hoped covered the bar bill and laid it on the bar. Then he said,

"Follow me."

Jacques led his victim to a dark alley. Once there, he turned and clipped him on the side of his neck, knocking him out. He caught him and carried him aloft.

When Jacques reached the warehouse, he bound and gagged his quarry. Alyce watched him, her gaze hungry. "Do not touch him," said Jacques. Then he started to set up the rest of the items for the ritual.

The ceremony he was going to attempt was similar to the Calling Circle and used many of the same ingredients. Blood Circle Magic. Only this time the inner circle wouldn't be needed and the outer one had to be big enough for two people to recline in.

Alyce Hunter stood and watched him. Jacques didn't mind. He wondered if any part of her mind recognized what he was doing. Was LaCroix watching instead of her?

The man from the bar wakened before Jacques had finished setting up the circle. He struggled, but Jacques had bound him tight. When he had finished setting up for the ritual, he realized he might have a problem. The man he'd chosen was a drunkard. Jacques felt he could not afford to drink his blood since it might fog his thought processes. He could slit his throat, but he didn't like to waste blood.

He looked at Alyce Hunter. She had lost interest in his ritual preparations and was watching the bound man hungrily. Of course! She was hungry and it wouldn't matter if the drink affected her. And he could handle her if it did affect her. Besides, she needed to be a part of this ritual anyway.

He walked over to her. "Would you like him?" he asked.

Alyce looked at Jacques. "But you said he was for your ceremony." A gleam of yellow appeared in her dark eyes.

"I need him to be drained almost to death. I don't wish to do it because it would be a distraction for me."

"You mean it?" she asked.

"Yes. You may-drink from him. But you must not kill him, do you understand?"

Alyce licked her lips, then said, "I understand." Jacques followed her as she approached the man. He watched and listened as she attacked him, feeling his own mouth watering in response. Soon the man was unconscious and much sooner than Jacques expected, his heart began to falter. Jacques pulled Alyce away. She lost her balance and fell into a sitting position on the floor. She sat there slightly stunned, her features flushed with blood and (no doubt) liquor.

Jacques picked up the man from the bar and carried him into the candle-lighted circle. He laid him slightly off of center. Then he turned and called, "Alyce!" Alyce looked at him. "Come here." She rose slowly to her feet and approached him, halting outside the circle's edge. "Come in here to me."

"Why?"

"I need...your help with the ritual." She still hesitated, so he used his hypnotic powers to compel her to join him. Alyce walked into the circle. "Lie down next to him," he said, concentrating on having her obey him. He knelt down. "Now you will rest. Close your eyes." Alyce complied.

Jacques rose. Now was the moment of truth. The Circle of Undeath had never been attempted in quite this way. Usually it was performed to transfer the spirit of one for whom death was certain into an uninjured dead body. The circumstances here were...different. He'd just have to hope it worked.

Jacques could hear the bound man's heartbeat ebbing more. He cut the bonds at his wrists and ankles and removed the gag. Then he began the ancient chant. At the end of it, he knelt between the man and Alyce Hunter. He slit her left wrist and his right one with his silver dagger. Then he pressed the wounds together and said, "I call thee, LaCroix. Take this new body, this gift from thy Master, through this bond of blood."

The wrists of the man and Alyce Hunter fused together and a blue smoke began to rise from the joined parts. Jacques stepped back and waited breathlessly. He listened to the man's heart stop. Alyce Hunter's heart began to falter too. Jacques frowned.

An electric blue glow rose around both bodies. Then the glow around Alyce Hunter began to subside and the glow around the man grew stronger. It became a bright white, almost hurtful to the eye. The man opened his eyes and gasped. His wrist fell away from Alyce Hunter's wrist and the glow disappeared completely.

The man's heart had begun to beat again, feebly, trying to pump blood that was not there. There was only one thing to do. Jacques bit his wrist and held it to the man's mouth. The man sucked greedily for a few minutes. Then he convulsed and lay still.

There was nothing more to be done. LaCroix's spirit had either been transferred to the man or it had not. He would have to wait until the transformation into vampire was complete.

Jacques turned his attention to Alyce Hunter. She still lived. Whether with LaCroix, he didn't know. He carried her back to the bedroom and laid her down. It would not do to have her there as temptation when the new vampire woke.

Jacques walked back out to the circle. How long would the transformation take? LaCroix had been a vampire, not a mortal, for ten centuries. Surely if he had transferred, it would not take him long to reawaken.

A slight blue glow began to form around the body of the man. As Jacques watched in amazement, a change began to take place in the body. The face took on sharper planes and a tautness took shape in the muscles of the body. Even the hair was turning-to platinum blonde.

Then the eyes of the man opened and they were not the watery, bleary, bloodshot blue of before. They were still blue, but a clear, sharp blue, cold as ice. Jacques entered the circle and knelt beside the man. "LaCroix, is it you?"

The man turned his gaze to Jacques, but there was no recognition in it. The eyes turned yellow and the man bared his fangs. "No!" said Jacques in a firm tone. "You must rest, do you understand? Rest." The yellow faded from the eyes and then they shut. Jacques rose.

The man looked uncannily like LaCroix now. But was LaCroix's mind and spirit wholly there as well?

One thing he did know. When the man woke again, he would crave food. Jacques flew off to find it for him.

###

LaCroix was in a dark place he didn't recognize. What was worse was there seemed no end to the darkness. It was featureless and void, having no walls, floors, ceiling, nothing to hang on to.

And yet, he sensed another presence with him. Female. Another vampire. She seemed somehow familiar. He seemed to be able to pick up chaotic thoughts from her.

She was little more than an animal.

LaCroix raged against the darkness. Had he suffered the true death? Then why was this place so dark? The Master's domain was said to be full of red fire.

Then he noticed something to his left. A tiny flame. He willed himself closer to it. It grew, expanded into an inferno surrounding him, choking him with acrid smoke. Fearful, he pressed forward, out of the flames and toward a blue glow. The blue glow turned into white light.

He was cuffed in the back of his head. "What are you doing here, 'LaCroix?'" came a harsh voice.

LaCroix turned to his father, cringing both at the abuse and the nickname. "Working, father."

"Your place is in the stable, boy, not outside the master's house."

"I-I was asked to clear the weeds," he lied.

His father grabbed the tiller LaCroix held. "Who asked you?"

"Uh," said LaCroix, not knowing what to say. His father raised the tiller to strike him. LaCroix prepared to duck.

"I did," came a boy's voice from the window behind him. LaCroix looked to see young master Jacques' black gaze on him.

LaCroix's father lowered the tiller. "Master Jacques. Forgive me. I did-not mean to interrupt my son's work."

Another older boy appeared at the window, very similar in appearance to Jacques except that his eyes were brown. "Jacques, you know-" he started in a warning tone. There was a thumping sound and the boy winced in pain.

"Go back to your duties, horseman, or I shall tell my father how lax you are," said young Jacques. LaCroix's father dropped the tiller and ran away.

"Jacques, I shall tell father of your lies."

"Be quiet, Philip. Are you not curious about why he was spying on our lessons?" Philip looked doubtfully at his brother, but said nothing. Jacques turned his black gaze back to LaCroix. "Why did you lie?" he asked.

"Why did you?" asked LaCroix.

Jacques just smiled at him.

###

Nick walked into the large room where several officers, Schanke included, were watching a slide show of a woman-blonde-haired and very attractive. "Who is it?" he asked.

"Stephanie Donovan, number one on our active list," said Kowalkski and he listened as the man detailed facts about her kidnapping and now murder. She'd been found that morning in Toronto Island Park, asphyxiated, but carefully posed on a park bench. The other officers were comparing murder slides taken at the scene with slides of her from a catalog (Classy Intimates) in which she had modelled lingerie.

Suddenly a familiar face and form appeared on the screen-a face and form that tugged painful emotions to the surface. 'Sylvaine? No, it couldn't be,' Nick's rational mind reasoned. She had-died-a hundred years ago. But he heard himself say, "Who's that?"

And a chorus of male voices replied, "Lucy Preston."

The sound of a heartbeat (strong and clear) pushed into LaCroix's consciousness. He opened his eyes.

On the floor nearby lay an unconscious woman. She stirred slightly and turned her head toward where he lay beside her on the floor. A fierce hunger sprang into LaCroix's mind. His heightened senses caught the scent of her blood pulsing under her skin. His vision sharpened, a yellow haze coloring the sight before him.

The woman opened her eyes and looked at him. Fear widened her gaze and her heartbeat went into a fevered frenzy.

LaCroix growled and lunged for the woman, pinning her to the floor with his body. Mouth watering, he went for her throat, tearing the flesh somewhat in his eagerness for her blood. The hot, sweet liquid filled his mouth and he sucked greedily at her.

###

Jacques watched LaCroix's greedy attack. The woman's fear (how fortunate that she had awakened when she did) had to have made her blood particularly satisfying. But he frowned slightly at LaCroix's animal attack of her. It lacked finesse. But maybe that was a result of being linked with Alyce Hunter for so long. At least he hoped it was that and not that LaCroix was somehow-damaged-by the ritual he'd performed to bring him back.

He was certainly being uncharacteristically sloppy about his feeding.

After a few minutes, LaCroix let go of the woman and sat up. Blood was smeared all over his lower face and down his shirt. His eyes were still yellow and his expression was one of aroused pleasure. He took a deep breath and released it.

The yellow light faded from LaCroix's eyes and he looked around him in some confusion. "Where am I?" he asked. Then he licked his lips.

"A safe place," replied Jacques. He pulled a black handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to LaCroix. "Wipe your face."

LaCroix took the handkerchief and rubbed absently at his face. "Who are you?" he asked.

Jacques frowned in irritation at LaCroix's inefficient face cleaning. He grabbed the handkerchief and, squatting, cleaned his face for him. Then he said, "You don't remember me?"

LaCroix frowned and said, "No. Should I?"

"Do you remember who you are?"

LaCroix looked away from him, the frown becoming deeper. Then the frown disappeared and he said, "LaCroix! My name is LaCroix."

Jacques smiled. "Well, that's a good start. The rest will come back to you soon." 'I hope,' he thought. LaCroix's face clean, he threw the handkerchief on the floor near the dead woman's body.

"You still haven't told me who you are."

Jacques rose. "I am your master, your father, your brother." LaCroix's gaze remained uncomprehending. "I am DuPrey. Jacques DuPrey," he finished with a sigh.

Jacques wondered whether he should call up some of his own memories of their life together and feed them to LaCroix. But he decided against it. LaCroix was a survivor. If he remembered his name, this-memory lapse-was perhaps only temporary. "What do you remember?" he asked.

LaCroix got slowly to his feet, frowning slightly. "Very little. I-remember a dream, I think. I'm not sure."

"Tell me about it."

LaCroix related his dream of the dark place and himself as a youth, several emotional expressions passing over his face during the telling.

"The-dark place-is where you were for a while. And the children-that is a memory. I am Jacques. Philip was my brother."

"But-it seemed a different time."

"It was a different time," said Jacques. He clapped a hand on LaCroix's shoulder. "You and I have been around for a very long time."

But LaCroix did not seem to be paying much attention. His face had taken on a blank expression. Jacques frowned.

###

Jacques clapped his hand on LaCroix's shoulder. "Come, my friend. I insist you come out on the town with me," he said, a wide smile on his lips and a devilish twinkle in his black eyes.

"But I am your servant," said LaCroix.

Jacques snorted. "No one will know you in the places we will be going. And I know you know enough to not embarrass me. Besides, embarrassment where we will go is very unlikely." Jacques plopped on his bed, stretched out, and put his hands behind his head.

LaCroix brushed his master's coat and studied him. He had been the young man's personal servant for three years-since Jacques was sixteen. Five years before that, Jacques had convinced his father to make LaCroix a house servant. "Your coat is ready," he said.

Jacques leaped out of bed and stood quietly as LaCroix slipped on his coat. Then he turned and said, "Come on, LaCroix. Indulge the fancy of a second son." His expression took on a shadowed look. "There is little else but pleasure for me to look forward to."

"There are your studies."

"Bah!" Jacques spat.

LaCroix pursed his lips. He wondered if his master would invite him on such a revel if his friends were not currently away.

"Come. You must be curious about the places I've told you I've been." LaCroix had to admit the tales Jacques had told him of his debauched adventures were alluring. Jacques' hand was on his shoulder again. "You and I understand each other. Do not let an accident of birth interfere with your pleasure." He stepped back from LaCroix and looked him over. "We are of a similar build as well." He walked over to his clothes pole and rummaged through the clothes on it. He turned and, smiling, said, "You can wear this."

###

"LaCroix?" said Jacques hesitantly, concerned. He frowned.

LaCroix's blank expression vanished and he looked with more interest at Jacques. "I remember you! At least, I have some memory of you. You were younger-nineteen."

Jacques smiled and clapped LaCroix's shoulder again. "Good. It will all come back to you before long," he said. He felt a bit better now that his child had experienced another memory. It indicated that whatever shock being brought back to "life" had caused was temporary. Jacques looked at the dead woman. "I need to-get rid of this body."

A frown crossed LaCroix's face as he looked at the woman. "What-why did I?-" he started. His eyes raised to Jacques' face.

"We-we can talk about that when I return. You trust me, don't you?"

LaCroix hesitated, then said, "Yes."

Jacques frowned. Perhaps a little hypnotism wouldn't be a bad idea since LaCroix still seemed...unstable. He let a glow appear in his eyes and when he was sure LaCroix was under control (and it didn't take long-not a good sign), he said, "Stay here until I return."

"All right," said LaCroix.

Jacques released his hold on his child and picked up the dead woman. He turned to go, but then turned back and said, "Oh, there is a-woman-resting in a room in the building. She is our-friend." LaCroix nodded. "I will return soon."

Jacques carried the woman out and only took to the air with her when he was outside and sure LaCroix was not watching. The body in his arms was stiff and cold, but the after scent of fear-filled blood gnawed at his thoughts. A meal of his own was what he needed now.

###

LaCroix looked around him. He was in a nearly empty warehouse. A very large circle was drawn in an empty spot on the concrete floor, seemingly constructed of dirt, bone, and burnt out candles. There was also a lingering scent in the air. He squatted and fingered a pile of ash, then lifted his finger to his nose. An odd scent, but it seemed somehow...familiar.

LaCroix stood. He started for the door Jacques had gone through, but then remembered that Jacques had wanted him to stay in the warehouse. So he turned his steps in another direction.

Eventually he came upon another door. He opened it and saw what appeared to be an office. There was a mattress on the floor and a large, old desk on which lay-a woman. Her eyes were closed and her body still. LaCroix shut the door on the scene and turned away, then closed his eyes as a memory filled his thoughts.

###

LaCroix stood outside the door of the most secret chamber. Jacques had been inside for a long time-alone. But LaCroix waited as ordered, patiently.

He heard footsteps and the door was unlocked. "Bring me a woman from downstairs," said Jacques. LaCroix nodded and walked downstairs.

Since his brother's death, Jacques had spent more and more time with the "secret society." His dedication and monetary support had given him the edge he had needed to take more and more control. And he had become even more ruthless. Few dared to thwart him in any fashion.

"Tonight I will have all the secrets," he had told LaCroix. He wondered if Jacques needed another sacrifice.

LaCroix found a woman in the gambling rooms and led her upstairs. He knocked at the door. Jacques pulled it open quickly and said, eyes on hers, "Come in, my dear." He added, not looking at LaCroix, "Whatever you hear, do not enter or allow anyone else to enter." He pulled the woman into the room and shut and locked the door.

LaCroix took up his post outside the door again. He heard vaguely what sounded like a prayer, but he couldn't quite make out the words. Then he heard what sounded like low moans from Jacques. Was it some sexual ritual then?

Then LaCroix heard the woman scream. Scream after scream, each one progressively weaker. Horrible sounding screams. Then silence. LaCroix turned to the door.

It opened and Jacques stood there, his face flushed, his mouth and chin covered with blood. But his dark eyes burned with excitement. "Jacques?" said LaCroix.

"Remove her." He pulled the door open wider and stepped aside so LaCroix could enter.

LaCroix entered the candlelit chamber and walked over to the sacrificial table where the woman he had brought to Jacques lay. Her throat looked-torn out. He looked at Jacques. "What has happened?" he asked.

Jacques walked up to the table, wiping his face with a handkerchief as he did. "I have been given...a gift... by the Master." He looked at the woman and smiled slightly.

"I do not understand."

"You will." He looked at LaCroix. "And if you continue to be faithful to me, perhaps one day I will give you the gift as well. Now take her away."

The sound of the door opening behind him startled LaCroix back to the present. He quickly turned-to see that the woman who had appeared dead when he first saw her was, in fact, alive. But she seemed a bit disoriented.

She looked up at LaCroix and for a moment fear filled her eyes and LaCroix felt his mouth watering. Then her face got a blank expression and the sensation subsided. She walked past him and out into the warehouse area. LaCroix followed her.

She walked to the circle and looked at it. Then she turned and looked at LaCroix. "Who are you?" she asked, frowning.

LaCroix stood as straight as possible and said, "I am LaCroix." He hesitated, then added, "Who are you?"

The woman looked away, frowning deeply. Then her frown disappeared and she said, "I am Alyce. Alyce Hunter." She looked at LaCroix and frowned again. "I-feel I should know you but I-I don't remember."

LaCroix studied her. He felt the same. She seemed familiar to him-familiar in a very intimate way. But, for some reason, it seemed an unnatural intimacy. He didn't know why. But he felt that they were once very close. She looked away from him nervously and he wondered if she felt the same.

Just at that moment, Jacques returned. He seemed energized and robust. He walked over to them and said, "Ah, my dear. I see you have finally recovered." He looked at LaCroix. "Been renewing your acquaintance?" he asked with a smile.

"Not-exactly. I'm afraid I don't remember her."

Jacques became serious and looked at the woman. "Do you remember him?"

"Not exactly," she said with a shrug.

Jacques put a hand on the shoulder of each person. "You both experienced a-shock. But your memories of each other will return, I feel sure." He looked toward the windows. "Dawn is approaching. We should all get some rest."

The three of them walked back to the office bedroom. LaCroix felt a bit uncomfortable at the three of them sharing one bed, but Jacques put him at ease. Alyce seemed nervous too, until Jacques looked into her eyes. LaCroix noticed a slight glow in the black orbs and frowned slightly. Then lethargy began to overtake him and he laid back on the mattress to rest.

###

"I will no longer pay your gambling debts, Jacques!" came Philip's voice. LaCroix edged closer to the door and peeped inside.

"Father always did," said Jacques. He was half reclining on a bench, examining his nails. Philip was standing by the fireplace.

"I am not father."

Jacques looked coldly at his brother. "No, you are not."

"And being as I am the head of the family now, I have decided that you should manage the country estate."

Jacques slammed both feet on the floor. "You have more skill in that area than I."

"You can learn. And it will get you away from the-vices-you have indulged yourself in in the city." Jacques stood and approached his brother. "You are disgracing the family name and endangering the family fortune. Father should have-"

"I will not go to the country."

For a moment, Philip was silent, eyeing his brother. Then he said, "Jacques, be reasonable. It is time you learned some-respectability."

Jacques snorted. "You would be surprised at the 'respectable' people I have come across in my...wanderings."

"How many of them take their servants out gambling?" LaCroix looked away.

"LaCroix and I understand each other. I would have much rather have had him for a brother than you." LaCroix looked at the men again.

Philip eyed Jacques, then turned away. "Have him pack your things. Then you will leave for the country estate."

LaCroix watched as a dark look came over Jacques' face. Jacques picked up the fireplace poker and struck his brother. Several times. Then he looked up and saw LaCroix.

"You will help me," said Jacques.

###

Jacques had risen early. Having to share his resting place with Alyce Hunter had been disturbing enough, to have to share it with LaCroix as well... Something would have to be done.

There was a sound from the mattress and Jacques looked over to see LaCroix was stirring in his "sleep." A frown was on his child's face and he wondered whether LaCroix was dreaming some memory of his previous "life."

Suddenly LaCroix's eyes flew open and he sat up. He looked at Jacques and said, "You murdered your brother."

Jacques got up from his perch on the edge of the desk. "Yes. Do you remember why?"

"He wouldn't pay your gambling debts. No, he wanted to bury you in the country." LaCroix frowned in confusion. "No. No, that wasn't it, either." Jacques watched silently as LaCroix stood.

"It will all come back to you in time," said Jacques after a few moments of silence. Then, curious, he added, "Tell me. Have you remembered anything else that you have not told me?"

"Last night, while you were gone, I remembered-your transformation." Jacques raised an eyebrow and glanced away briefly. He'd wondered why LaCroix had forgotten about the questions he'd had earlier about what he was. When he looked back at LaCroix, the man said, "You-are a vampire." He looked away with a slight frown and added, "As I am." Then he looked at the mattress, where Alyce Hunter still slumbered. "And she is." He looked at Jacques. "But I don't yet remember how I-or she-became..." He looked away, a very irritated look crossing his face.

Jacques approached LaCroix. "You will remember soon enough," he assured his child, and clapped him on the shoulder. LaCroix's face took on a blank expression.

###

LaCroix felt someone clap him on the shoulder. "My sister has become a beauty," said Jacques. "Even grief becomes her."

LaCroix drew his eyes away from Jacques' remaining sibling, his thirteen year old sister, Angelique. She had indeed blossomed. Her black hair was thick and gleaming, her blue eyes (courtesy of a brief second marriage of Jacques' father) large and liquid. "Yes," he said. Jacques kneaded his friend's shoulder, then walked over to his sister.

Everyone walked outside for the final funeral service and the interment of Philip. Then they returned to the house. Philip had been quite respected, with many friends. LaCroix watched and listened as some of them expressed their sympathy to Angelique over her brother's tragic death. LaCroix and Jacques had made it look like a robbery, dumping Philip into the river. It had been a couple of days before he was found.

Soon the last of the mourners had departed and Angelique had gone off to bed. Jacques called LaCroix into the main room for a drink. He looked around smugly and said, "Well, it is mine now. As it should have been from the beginning."

LaCroix sipped his drink, then looked at it. "What about-your sister?" He looked at Jacques.

"She may have her uses." He frowned, his black eyes studying LaCroix. "Why? Do not tell me you have become besotted with her! When you have had your choice of so many!" He grinned at his joke. Then he sobered. "I promised you a reward for helping me. Do you wish to bed my sister?"

"No!"

Jacques' eyes got wide. "You are besotted! Do not tell me you wish her hand!" LaCroix was silent. Jacques studied him. "I give you credit for ambition, LaCroix. Very well. I will think about it." He walked away from LaCroix, then turned and said, "But no woman is worth love, LaCroix. Remember that." He grinned. "And I have a remedy for such passing fancies! Come!"

###

"LaCroix?" LaCroix turned his attention to Jacques. "Were you-remembering your transformation?"

"No. I was remembering a conversation we had after your brother's funeral-about your sister."

Jacques turned away. "Angelique," he mused carefully. The one sore point in his mostly fruitful relationship with LaCroix. He hoped it would not cause bad feelings again, and waited tensely for LaCroix to continue.

But LaCroix said nothing more. Jacques finally turned back to him. LaCroix was again frowning. "It will soon be dark. Until you and (he looked at the sleeping vampire)-Alyce-regain full memories, we will have to keep a low profile. That includes the hunt. We will have to limit-our kills-so as not to attract unwarranted attention." If necessary, he would hypnotize his charges into compliance with his orders. He could not risk Nicholas Knight or the vampires in the Raven catching on to their presence. Last night he had flown far into the countryside with LaCroix's quarry, depositing the body deep in some woods where she would not be located for a very long time (if ever) if he was lucky. He fastened his gaze on LaCroix and activated some mild hypnosis as he said, "I have to go out, but you will stay here, and keep Alyce here as well. All right?"

"Yes."

"Good." Alyce was stirring, finally waking now that the sun was fully gone. He turned his attention to her. "Alyce, a word with you," he said. Jacques took her out of the room and used the same mild hypnosis to make sure she would stay at the warehouse. Then he left.

As he flew off to check on Detective Knight, Jacques thought about the situation in which he found himself. LaCroix was worthy of resurrection, but he didn't like the role of "house mother" into which he had been thrust. He hoped both vampires would soon have full control of their mental faculties.

LaCroix walked out into the warehouse area, where Alyce was studying the circle again. She looked at him as he approached. "Do you know where we are?" he asked.

"Where we are?"

"The city."

"Oh. Toronto," she replied.

Toronto. A brief image flashed into LaCroix's mind of a green cup in a museum case. Then the glass shattered and became an image of him dripping blood from the same cup onto a blond-haired man's face.

###

"What's it gonna take to get a rise out of you?"

There was a cry from some spot behind and above him. The blond man looked up and said, "Alyce! Get outta here!"

LaCroix looked up at the woman. "Is this someone I should meet?"

"Run!"

LaCroix flew up to the landing and grabbed the woman.

###

LaCroix came back to the present. He had grabbed the female vampire from behind, one hand on her chin and the other around her waist. He pulled her head to the side, exposing her throat. She wrenched out of his grip and turned to him, eyes wide and her breath coming in gasps.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Soit tranquille."

The words called forth another memory. The smell of smoke, fire, this woman's mortal blood in his mouth-

Then the image was gone. He frowned and turned away.

###

Jacques waited on the building opposite 101 Gateway Lane until 9:00 p.m. and there was still no sign of Detective Knight. Had he gone in to work early or-? Jacques turned on his hearing. The sound of music drifted across from Knight's haven. Maybe he was off work tonight?

Jacques considered the situation. If Knight was off for the evening, it might be a good opportunity to-

No. With LaCroix-and Alyce Hunter-in the states they were in, it was too risky. LaCroix should have the opportunity to decide Knight's fate and for that he needed full awareness. No, he could wait a while longer.

But he hoped it would not be much longer.

So lost in thought was he that Jacques didn't notice for a minute that the garage door had opened. Knight drove out in the convertible, turning in the usual direction he took to go to work. 'Maybe he just had to go in later.'

Jacques followed the car, but noticed that Knight's driving was slow and somewhat erratic. Once he almost hit another car. Was his mind deep on some case?

Jacques settled on his usual rooftop across from the station house and waited for Knight to return with his usual dark-haired partner, Schanke.

But Knight eventually came out again alone. His expression was concerned, but oddly distracted as well. He got in the green convertible and drove off, his driving again rather erratic.

Jacques followed Knight home, settling on his normal rooftop perch across the street to observe the man. Knight drove the car into the garage, then came back out and entered by the electronically locked door. This time he stood far enough to the side so that DuPrey could see the four-digit code that he entered. A useful bit of information for later, although he imagined Knight probably changed the code from time to time.

Then Jacques noticed a movement in Knight's apartment. A woman was there-dark-haired, clad in black. He noticed Knight did not look entirely pleased to see her. Curious, he listened to their conversation.

So they were both the children of LaCroix? He waited until the woman left-apparently Knight did not want her comfort at the present time, although it was obvious that both had been close to each other in the past.

The woman stepped onto the sidewalk. Jacques ducked as she looked up at the buildings across the street. The streetlight illuminated her face when she did, however, and Jacques looked at her with interest.

"Angelique?" he murmured.

But the woman had already disappeared.

###

Jacques returned to the warehouse in deep thought. LaCroix was sitting on a small crate when he entered. He looked around. "Where is Alyce?" he asked.

LaCroix looked at Jacques in some trepidation. "I don't know. She's gone."

"What do you mean-she's gone?!" said Jacques, frowning.

"She got upset."

"Upset? What do you mean, upset?" LaCroix looked down at his feet. "Never mind. You can tell me later. I'll go find her."

Jacques took to the air. Just what he needed-a mentally deficient vampire loose on the streets of Toronto. Damn! What had happened to make her run? By LaCroix's reaction, it was something he did.

Fortunately, Jacques found Alyce with little difficulty. She had blood on her face, but Jacques was able to get out of her where she'd made the attack. In fact, she seemed a bit more lucid when replying to his questions, so maybe the blood had had some healing effect. The body was still hidden in the trash of the alley where Alyce had found him. Jacques said, "Wait here. And attack no one else." Then he flew off and dumped the body in the lake (after first pulling off the head). In minutes he returned to Alyce and they both flew back to the warehouse.

Jacques could not resist showing some more irritation when they entered the warehouse, pushing Alyce a bit roughly before him. LaCroix looked up when they entered and stood.

"All right. I want to know why you disobeyed my orders," he told Alyce.

Alyce looked at LaCroix. "I-I frightened her."

Jacques looked at LaCroix. "How?"

"He tried to bite me."

"No, it was-a memory-" started LaCroix.

"I am already your child! It can't be done again!"

LaCroix looked distraught. "All right!" said Jacques. He looked at Alyce and turned on his full hypnosis. "You need not be afraid of LaCroix. And you will not leave this building again, do you understand?"

"I understand," said Alyce slowly.

"Good. Now leave us."

Alyce wandered off to the rear of the building. Jacques turned his attention to LaCroix.

"I'm sorry," said LaCroix, looking away.

Jacques studied LaCroix. He was still angered, but he also realized that his child needed more time to get all his awareness back. He'd have to use stronger hypnotism on him, too, as he had done with Alyce.

"I-brought her across," said LaCroix.

"You remember?" asked Jacques.

LaCroix looked at him. "Not everything. I remember biting her." He frowned. "There was-smoke. And fire."

"Try to remember," said Jacques. Perhaps if LaCroix got back the memory of his-destruction, the rest of his life would fall into place again. LaCroix frowned deeper, then said,

"I can't."

Jacques sighed, looking down LaCroix's body. Then he smiled slightly and said, "It will come to you-all of it. Eventually." 'Soon,' he hoped.

Jacques decided it might be better to spend the rest of the night at the warehouse.

'Knight can wait.'

###

Jacques sighed. He was definitely feeling "cabin fever." Usually gambling entertained him, but Alyce Hunter was no good at it at all and LaCroix, while a much more skilled player, tended to drift off into his "memories" from time to time. It was enough of a distraction so that Jacques was winning handily. And, so far, LaCroix's memories had not been of anything major; Jacques felt sure that if LaCroix remembered his "death," he'd know about it right away.

So far LaCroix had remembered Mercou, the commoner who had originally introduced them into the Cult which met in the merchant district of Paris. At first they had only partaken of the various "entertainments" run as fringe rewards for the Cult members, only becoming involved with the Cult later.

LaCroix remembered how they had decided to go back to the country estate after Philip's death. He mentioned "parties" Jacques had thrown for his Cult friends-where worship and debauchery were freely mixed. Jacques could see his child was remembering many of the details of their time together, but he did not speak of those times in much detail, perhaps because of Alyce. A name, a date, was sufficient reminder for them anyway.

Jacques did wish, though, that his thoughts would come closer to the present. And, even in the past, there were still some memories that apparently LaCroix wished to avoid. "Do you remember much of your mortal father, LaCroix?" he finally asked. LaCroix's face took on a distant expression.

LaCroix jumped down from his horse and turned to pull down the unconscious girl slung across the animal. He heard some shuffling footsteps and a drunken voice said, "Evil. That's what you do here, evil."

LaCroix looked at his two companions. "Take her to the house. I will be along shortly."

"Spawn of Satan!" shouted the old man. The two men who had accompanied LaCroix carried the girl away.

"That is right, father. The sins of the fathers. That is what I learned from you."

"You learned no evil from me!" protested the old man, staggering toward him.

"Beating me was not evil? Beating mother?"

"That was discipline!"

"And what discipline of mother required her death?"

The old man's shoulders slumped. "Your mother's death-was an accident. She fell, down the stairs." LaCroix turned away and began to see to the horses. "But you-you will burn in Hell for what you are doing!"

"Well, we will see which of us burns brighter, father." He turned and looked at the man. "Actually, I expect to be rewarded."

"You'll burn! There and here!"

LaCroix wanted to strike his father, kill his father. But the five year old who had seen his mother die, the child who had been abused until Jacques had taken him away from it, still wouldn't let him.

"Kill him," came Jacques' voice. LaCroix turned to see him at the door of the stables.

"No!" said LaCroix's father, turning and stumbling away. He slipped in the hay and let out a cry. Then he lay still. LaCroix approached him warily, not sure what to do.

It was Jacques who finally bent and turned LaCroix's father over. A pitchfork was impaled in his chest, or at least the tines were. The handle had broken. "He's dead," said Jacques. Then he looked at LaCroix. "You should have killed him."

###

LaCroix threw down his cards and got up. Jacques laid down his cards and rose also. "LaCroix?" he asked.

"I did kill him," said LaCroix, his back to Jacques. Then he turned to face him. "Many times."

Jacques frowned slightly. Then he smiled and said, "Come, we'll continue our game."

"I don't want to play anymore," said LaCroix, stalking away. Jacques looked at Alyce, whose face held a bewildered expression. Then he sat and started a game between just the two of them. But he kept one eye and ear on LaCroix.

Perhaps the painful memories were the key. 'Should I bring up Angelique?' he wondered.

###

"What is this I hear about Angelique being married off to old man de Mornay?"

Jacques looked up at LaCroix. "Sit, my friend. Have a drink."

"Angelique is well past marrying age. She is six and twenty."

"It is high time she married."

"Why? You never cared before."

"Well, practical matters need to be considered. De Mornay is a very wealthy man. And old. When he dies, Angelique will be able to return, a wealthy woman."

"Sell your own sister? And what about me?"

"What about you?"

LaCroix was silent. "Oh, well I did think about letting you marry my sister, but it just isn't practical."

"And what about Angelique?"

"She will do as I command," said Jacques. He let a glow show in his eyes. "Besides, she has no-passion-for anyone."

LaCroix's gaze dropped. Despite his closeness to LaCroix, Jacques knew his sister considered LaCroix nothing more than a servant. He stood and placed a hand on LaCroix's shoulder. "What is one mortal woman when I can offer you eternity?"

LaCroix looked at Jacques. "Another broken promise."

"I have 'promised' nothing. I will know when the time is right to reward my faithful...companions." LaCroix looked away. "One day you will have the entire world at your feet."

LaCroix continued to look at him.

###

'Maybe I'll wait a while before suggesting that particular memory,' thought Jacques.

###

LaCroix dreamed. There was smoke and flames, a flaming torch-no, torches. He leaped out of bed.

The house was on fire! And the stables and other buildings! Coughing, he looked out the window at what appeared to be hundreds of people holding aloft torches and weapons-mostly farm implements of some sort or another.

He ran into the hall. Jacques! He had to get to Jacques!

The guests in the house had scattered outside as well. They were being hunted by the outraged peasants. The few vampires among them were putting up a fight, however.

LaCroix ran for Jacques' quarters. The largest group of peasants were gathered outside there. They had already set that part of the house on fire.

He almost choked on the smoke, but made his way up the stairs to Jacques' bedroom. Thank the Master the peasants had not attacked the estate by day.

LaCroix found Jacques by the window, looking down on the scene below. "Jacques, come on! We must get out before the place falls down around us!"

Jacques turned startled eyes to him. "What are you doing here, LaCroix?"

"Trying to save you!"

Jacques laughed. "You are in more danger of death than I am!" Then he sobered. "But I thank you for risking yourself for me. Come, I'll take us out of here." He climbed on the window ledge and held out his hand.

"Are you mad?" asked LaCroix.

"No. Come, it is safe."

LaCroix hesitated, then approached Jacques and took his hand. Jacques pulled him into a close embrace and then leaped out the window.

LaCroix shut his eyes and waited for his body to crush itself on the ground. When it didn't, he opened his eyes to see that he and Jacques were flying toward the dark woods. "What?"

"A-talent-I've kept to myself."

LaCroix looked at Jacques in amazement. "But why didn't you-"

"Oh, I suppose so everyone would not know my whole hand." They had reached the floor of the forest, coming down in a small clearing. LaCroix was trembling and tried to calm himself. "You risked your mortal life for me, LaCroix."

"Yes, I suppose I did."

Jacques looked toward the estate, nothing visible of it except a red and orange glow in the night sky and the smoke rising like a cloud under the full moon. He snarled. "We will have to go to Angelique. Bastards!" He looked at LaCroix, eyes yellow and fangs bared. "I should have given you the gift long ago. You have proven tonight that you are worthy of it... Are you ready to receive it?"

LaCroix did not hesitate. "Yes."

Jacques came closer and pulled LaCroix into his arms. And then LaCroix felt his fangs pierce his throat.

###

LaCroix came awake to find his eyes changed yellow and his fangs bared. Jacques rushed over to him. "LaCroix, what is it?"

LaCroix sat up. Alyce still slept beside him. He suppressed the vampire. "I-was dreaming. Of you and I in the forest. After the fire."

"When I gave you the gift."

LaCroix nodded.

Jacques smiled, then sobered. "I waited too long. For that I shall always have regrets." He hesitated, then said, "The memory was strong."

"Yes."

"Then I should go out and bring someone here." He rose. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

And Jacques left, even though the sun had barely set.

It was while walking in the downtown district in the twilight that Jacques noticed Knight's convertible parked near the Raven. The policeman usually wasn't out and about so early. Curious, he waited in an alley for him to come out.

When the vampire did emerge from the club, he looked very determined and worried about something. It was fully dark now so Jacques followed the car as Knight drove away.

Eventually the detective headed for some housing project near the lake. Jacques hid and watched as Knight approached a house and knocked on the door. No one answered and he walked around back to a small barn or stable.

There was some commotion in the woods behind the house. Knight flew off in the direction of the commotion and Jacques followed, keeping a discreet distance. He watched as the vampire fought a slight man with glasses while an attractive blonde watched. The man with glasses finally fell onto the tines of a broken pitchfork. Knight comforted the woman and they walked back to the house.

Before long, several police cars and an ambulance showed up at the residence. Jacques noticed Knight's partner, Schanke, and a very large individual he heard addressed as Captain Stonetree. Stonetree lavished praise on his detectives, going so far as to say, "Take a few days off, Knight. You deserve it. Schanke can take care of the paperwork."

"Gee, thanks, Cap'n," said Schanke.

"Don't worry. After that, you get a couple of days, too."

Schanke grinned. "Well then, if you'll excuse me, Cap'n, I want to get back and get that report done."

"You're sure you're all right?" asked Knight, looking at the blonde.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Can I-give you a lift to the station?"

"No, she can ride with Schanke," said Stonetree. "Hey, Schanke, wait up!"

The blonde smiled at Nick and said, "Thank you." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and walked down to where Schanke stood with the door to his car open.

Then Jacques remembered his original mission. He needed to get some food for LaCroix. And Alyce. 'The blonde would have been nice,' he thought wistfully.

He flew back toward the bar district. Eventually he located an attractive woman on her way to a night of fun. As he rendered her unconscious, Jacques thought, 'The fun is going to be all on our side.'

He left the woman for LaCroix and Alyce to share and then left again. He wanted some fun himself.

When he finally returned to the warehouse, it was to find Alyce all alone. "Where's LaCroix?"

"He said he was still hungry!"

"Damn!" said Jacques, and went off looking for him.

LaCroix stalked the streets in silence, keeping to the shadows. He had had enough of that warehouse and Jacques' doles. He would hunt for himself.

He followed a man into a lonely section of town-one away from the bar district. Something about the old commercial area of brick warehouses seemed familiar. More than that, he had an odd feeling of-connection-to something. Or someone.

But the prey was getting away. LaCroix hastened to catch up to the man, who got nervous and ran. LaCroix smiled. A game would be nice right about now.

He caught up to the man near a tunnel and pushed him up against the outside of it. He wasn't careful with his bite, but he didn't care. The blood was hot and sweet, and if some of it drained down the man's arm and onto the ground-well, it wasn't that much of a loss.

Suddenly LaCroix got an odd sensation like a vibration of the strings of his soul. He turned and looked at the building across the street and let his prey slide to the ground. There were lights on in the second story windows, but his eyes hardly noticed. Instead he was seeing flames, the blond-haired man who had wanted the green cup plunging a flaming torch into his chest, flames rising around him. And the man saying, "Damn you! Burn in hell! Va au diable."

Anger burned in LaCroix's soul and a red haze filled his vision. He started for the building.

"No, LaCroix!" came a voice and hands grabbed him by the shoulders. He turned his red gaze on Jacques.

"I remember," he said.

"What? What do you remember?"

LaCroix hesitated, blinking. The red haze left his vision. "Flames...burning..."

"What else?"

LaCroix frowned, trying to remember. "I-I don't know." He started to turn back to the building. Maybe it would jog his memory...

Jacques held him firmly and said, "Come away."

"Why?" growled LaCroix.

"You have-an enemy here. One you must be in full control of your memory and your powers to defeat. Now come away before we are sensed." LaCroix still hesitated. "I promise you he will be dealt with."

LaCroix allowed himself to be drawn back. Jacques paused to pull the man LaCroix had killed into the dark depths of the tunnel. Then the two of them flew away, back to the warehouse.

Once there, DuPrey passed a black handkerchief to LaCroix. "Wipe your mouth," he said.

###

Jacques looked at his sleeping companions and frowned. LaCroix had been in a dark and silent mood when the two of them had returned to the warehouse last night. He was frustrated at having lost what he knew was an important memory-so much so that Jacques had finally resorted to strong hypnotism to calm LaCroix's mind.

Perhaps revenge on Knight would remove the final blocks in LaCroix's memories-make him whole again. It was time to take action.

Jacques searched in his victims' possessions for the heavy leather coat and a hat that he remembered. He took dark glasses out of his bag. Then he slipped quickly out into the late afternoon.

Fortunately, it was very cloudy, which helped hold his discomfort down. Keeping to the dark alleyways and moving quickly, he soon made it to the downtown district, where he hailed a cab.

Before long he stood outside 101 Gateway Lane again. As soon as the cab pulled away, Jacques punched the four-digit code he had seen Knight use before into the keypad by the door. The door opened and he stepped into the elevator gratefully. As it rose, he pulled off the coat, hat, and glasses and prepared for his attack.

The living room was empty, but Jacques heard a movement upstairs. "That you, Nat?" came Knight's voice. He heard more movements and then footsteps on the landing. He ducked into a door off the kitchen.

The phone rang and the answering machine cut on as Knight walked slowly down the stairs and over to the elevator. A female voice said, "Hey, Nick! It's Nat. I heard you got a few days off and I was wondering if you cared if I came over later with a video-about nine? Nick, you there?"

But Knight was looking down in a confused manner at the coat and hat in the elevator. When he bent to pick them up, Jacques made his move.

He grabbed Nick from behind. The blond was still no match for his strength and would be no match for anyone when he was through with him. He choked the vampire until he went unconscious from lack of air.

"Call me, okay? And I'll see you later," said "Nat."

"I don't think you'll be seeing her tonight. Or ever," said Jacques. Then he pushed Knight's head to the side and sank his fangs into the vampire's throat.

###

LaCroix paced the warehouse.

"Where is he?" he asked, bewildered.

"Maybe he went out to hunt."

"Hunt," LaCroix said in a slightly bemused tone. Then he headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Alyce. LaCroix didn't answer or slow his steps. "He won't like it if you leave!"

But LaCroix continued out the door and into the night.

###

Nick opened his eyes. Lights flickered on the edges of his blurred vision. Then his vision cleared and he saw candles burning a short distance away.

Nick tried to move, but found that he couldn't. Then he remembered. DuPrey! DuPrey had been in his apartment. He'd overpowered Nick. But this wasn't his apartment. Where was he?

As his mind became clearer, Nick became aware of something else. He was ferociously hungry. He tried to move again, but his muscles would not obey him. The only thing he seemed able to move was his eyes.

What had happened? He felt nothing binding him, but he could not move. The right side of his neck ached though.

Then Nick realized what must have happened and why he felt such an intense hunger for blood. DuPrey had drained his blood. There was nothing in his veins-no source of energy to power his muscles.

The hunger was all consuming-almost unbearable. His vision sharpened as he felt his eyes flare into feral yellow. But other than his eyes, he could make no move to satisfy his thirst.

Nick became aware of movement to his right. He looked in that direction and saw a shape emerge from behind some tall wooden boxes. The figure was a woman, was-someone he knew. The sight of her intensified the hunger he felt and he tried, but failed, to get to her.

So he tried to will her closer.

###

Alyce Hunter approached the man lying on the floor of the warehouse warily. When he had returned with him, DuPrey had been angry that LaCroix had gone. She knew her creator was still having trouble remembering. Just like she was...

The man's eyes were open and on her. But other than that, he didn't move. She moved closer to him. Her own memory worked in fits and starts, but this man looked familiar. He was very handsome, blond-haired, and his eyes-well, they were yellow now but she remembered that normally they were-blue. Suddenly she got a mental image of being in a large building kissing this man. "Nick," she murmured quietly, lost in memories. She drew closer.

He did not speak to her, merely followed her with his eyes. The yellow glow in them became more pronounced as she neared him. Nick. It was Nick Knight. "Take me," she said, remembering how those eyes had reflected the glow of flames. Like they were doing now. She knelt down beside him.

At her words and actions, the flames in Nick's eyes flared brighter. But he still didn't move. She laid a hand on his chest. He was so cold. How could his eyes burn so when he was so cold? But maybe she could warm him with a kiss. She leaned down.

Then, suddenly, she heard a snarl and her head was drawn forcefully back by her hair. She was thrown back onto the floor. DuPrey stood over her, eyes red-rimmed and fangs bared. "What do you think you're doing?"

"N-Nothing," said Alyce, afraid. Slightly behind DuPrey stood LaCroix.

"You're to stay away from him, do you understand?"

"I-yes," said Alyce, licking her lips.

"Go to the bedroom."

"But-"

"I said go!" he said. Alyce scuttled across the floor a ways and, rising to her feet, did as he demanded.

###

Jacques let the vampire in himself subside and looked at LaCroix. Then he looked at the man lying on the floor and said, "Well, here he is. I promised you he would be dealt with."

LaCroix looked down at the blond man with the yellow eyes.

###

"Damn you! Burn in hell! Va au diable."

###

LaCroix snarled as the memories returned: the burning pain in his chest, the flames, and then the void. "Nicholas," he whispered.

Jacques looked at LaCroix. "He's ours. To torture and then destroy."

LaCroix became calmer. "No," he said.

Jacques looked at LaCroix in amazement. After LaCroix's dark anger of last night, he did not expect such a reply. "But after what he did to you, how-" He halted, studying his "child." LaCroix had an expression on his face that he could not fathom. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. What was it about the blond vampire that could outweigh LaCroix's desire for revenge? Or was the hypnotism he'd used on LaCroix to blame?

"This is not like you, LaCroix. Or at least not like the LaCroix I remember." He hesitated, then said, "He must be punished."

"Don't kill him."

Jacques frowned. Had LaCroix become weak after all these centuries? Or was he still not recovered from being trapped for so long inside Alyce Hunter?

Maybe he simply needed more time.

"Very well. He can live...for now." He looked at Knight thoughtfully. "Perhaps...perhaps he can be made to see the error of his ways." In his current state, the vampire could not move. But he would still live and hunger. The beast would grow stronger with each day that he was left unfed, until... He'd give up that horrible animal blood he had been polluting his system with. He grimaced in disgust.

But Nicholas Knight was a policeman. If he didn't go back to his job within a few days, perhaps other members of the department would go out looking for him. That would be unwelcome interference indeed.

Maybe there was another way to bring Detective Knight back into the "vampire fold." He raised his right wrist to his mouth and bit into it. Then he knelt on the floor beside his captive. He opened the man's mouth and held the dripping wound there.

The drops of blood burned with fire on Nick's tongue and blazed a trail down his throat. Nick felt the heat spread into the bottomless pit that was his stomach, then outward. He found he could move his mouth and fastened it around the source of nourishment before him. He sucked strongly.

But, all too soon, the wrist was drawn away. Nick grabbed DuPrey's arm. DuPrey's dark eyes burned into his. "Let go," he said.

Nick growled, baring his fangs. He tried to pull DuPrey's wrist back to his mouth, but the man resisted. And Nick found he didn't have the strength to force him. "Listen to me," said DuPrey. "Listen. To. Me. I can help you to survive, but you must do as I tell you."

The fire in Nick's body reached his brain. There was something-something wrong here. "No," he said.

DuPrey frowned at him. "Yes. Or you will die." His eyes glowed and Nick heard DuPrey's heart beat rhythmically. He could not look away. "Are you ready to obey me now?"

Nick hesitated, then said, "Yes." No other answer...seemed possible.

DuPrey smiled. "Good." He stood. "I will bring someone to you. Someone who will satisfy your thirst."

LaCroix grabbed DuPrey's arm. "What are you doing?" he asked, frowning.

DuPrey looked at LaCroix. "I hope correcting wrong attitudes." He looked at Nick again. "I'm going out to find him someone. You stay here and watch him. I don't believe he's had enough of my blood to be able to move much, but you should be able to handle him if he tries to make any trouble."

Then DuPrey left.

###

Alyce paced the "bedroom." More of her memories of Nick Knight were coming back to her. She frowned. Nick should not be here like this. He was good. Not like DuPrey and LaCroix. She felt she had to do something. But what?

Finally she decided to risk DuPrey's wrath and see what they were doing to Nick. She carefully crept out of the bedroom and up behind some boxes where she could have a view of the three of them.

She turned on her hearing and watched and listened. DuPrey bit his wrist and, kneeling, put it to Nick's mouth. At first Nick did nothing. Then he fastened his mouth on DuPrey's wrist. After a short while, DuPrey pulled his wrist away. She listened to DuPrey's conversation with LaCroix. Then DuPrey left.

LaCroix stood looking down at Nick. He was frowning slightly. Alyce took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the boxes. LaCroix looked up at her as she approached him. She halted on the other side of Nick and said, "What he wants to do is wrong, LaCroix." LaCroix merely stared at her. "It will make him a beast-less than a beast." LaCroix frowned. "Like I used to be. Do you remember, LaCroix?" LaCroix looked at Nick briefly, then back at her. "You must help him. Help him leave here before DuPrey comes back."

"No." He paused and then added, "I can't."

Alyce moved around Nick and closer to LaCroix. "Then let me help him." LaCroix looked her up and down, saying nothing.

Alyce turned her attention to Nick. She could bite her own wrist, like DuPrey did, give Nick enough of her blood so that he could move and defend himself or flee. She started to kneel down.

But LaCroix grabbed her. His eyes were yellow and his fangs were bared. "Leave him alone!" he said. Then he slapped her so hard she fell, landing across Nick's body. And the next thing she knew Nick had grabbed her and pulled her up to his waiting fangs. He sucked greedily at her and she could feel her strength ebbing away with her blood.

Then suddenly she was ripped away from him. Nick growled and sat up. LaCroix threw Alyce to one side and growled back at Nick. Then he leaped at him.

###

Alyce lay stunned on the floor of the warehouse for a minute. Then she focused her eyes on the fight between LaCroix and Nick. LaCroix appeared to be winning, even though Nick now had enough energy to meet his foe on his feet.

She had to help Nick. She looked around. The dagger DuPrey used in his rituals was on top of his pile of occult paraphernalia in a box near her. She grabbed it and rose, a little unsteadily, to her feet. She walked over to LaCroix and plunged the knife into his upper back. LaCroix cried out and fell face down on the floor. He groaned.

Alyce looked at Nick. His eyes were still yellow and his fangs bared. But he looked a little unsteady. His eyes fastened on hers and she smiled slightly.

But he didn't smile in return. He approached her and pulled her roughly into his arms. His fangs sought her throat again.

Alyce pushed at him. "No, Nick!" But he wouldn't listen to her. He was draining her blood and she began to feel dizzy. "You have to...get away," she murmured.

Nick pulled back from her, a stricken look on his face. Alyce felt the world going dark around her.

###

Nick let Alyce Hunter fall to the floor. He took a shuddering breath. What had she said? Get away? He looked around. LaCroix was still moaning in pain and trying to rise.

Nick felt stronger, but still unsatisfied. 'Control,' he thought. 'Have to.' But all he wanted to do was drink more blood-mortal blood. He put his hands to his temples and shut his eyes, grimacing. "No!"

'Home!' If he could get home and to the animal blood in his refrigerator- He flew up through the skylight.

###

The sight that met Jacques' eyes when he entered the warehouse minutes later was dismaying. He dropped the unconscious woman he'd brought with him to the floor.

LaCroix was on his knees, trying to pull Jacques' ritual dagger out of his back. He couldn't quite reach it. Alyce Hunter lay unmoving on the floor beside him, fang marks in her throat. And Nicholas Knight was nowhere to be seen.

Jacques rushed over to LaCroix. "What happened?" he demanded. He ripped the dagger none too gently out of his child's back. LaCroix winced in pain and sat on the floor.

"It was Alyce. She tried to help him."

"It looks like she did more than try. Why didn't you stop her?"

"I tried to. She-fell within his reach and he grabbed her before I could stop him."

"And stabbed you in the back?"

LaCroix looked down, then back at Jacques. "No. After I pulled her away from him, we started fighting." He looked over at Alyce. "I was winning, until she helped him again."

Jacques looked at Alyce. "It doesn't appear it did her much good to help him." He scowled. "She has been more trouble than she's worth. I've had enough of her." He rose and walked over to one of the empty wooden crates in the room. He ripped off a sturdy piece.

LaCroix looked at him in alarm. Jacques plunged the jagged end of the wood piece into Alyce Hunter's heart with a snarl. Her body jerked once and was still. He turned to LaCroix. "Now I need to retrieve Mr. Knight."

"How?" asked LaCroix.

"He's drank some of my blood. He's linked to me. I should have no trouble tracking him down." He turned to go.

"Wait!" said LaCroix. "I want to go with you."

Jacques frowned at him. "You're injured. I can't afford to be slowed down. I must get to Knight before he can find aid."

LaCroix stood. "I can keep up. It is my right to be there-to see him pay for harming me."

Jacques smiled. "That sounds like the LaCroix I knew. Very well. But be quick."

Jacques rose up through the skylight, not waiting to see if LaCroix followed.

###

Natalie Lambert walked around the lower level of Nick's apartment in some confusion. It was 9:00; he should be here. She put the video she'd rented on the coffee table. Then she walked over to the stairs and shouted, "Nick, you up there?" She waited a few moments, but there was no reply.

Then she heard the elevator running. She sighed. He must have just decided to step out for something. She licked her lips and walked over by the end of the couch.

She had a smile ready on her face when the door to the elevator opened. Nick stood there, disheveled and dirty and-something else. Her smile faded. "Nick, what happened?"

His eyes fastened on her and his lips parted. But no reply to her question was forthcoming. She frowned and started to approach him. "Nick?"

Nick looked away from her and at some spot on the floor. His mouth worked and then he said, "Go."

Natalie stopped. "Nick? What is it? What's wrong?" He was walking toward the kitchen, ignoring her. She followed. She watched as he grabbed a bottle of blood from the refrigerator and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He turned and raised the bottle to drink. His eyes drifted toward the windows and he froze.

###

"No, Nicholas," Jacques whispered from his position at the window. He exerted all his hypnotic abilities through the blood tie on the man. He could see Knight heard him. "You do not want the blood in the bottle." Knight hesitated. "The mortal-she is what you need. Her fear...and her blood. Take her."

The mortal woman turned toward the windows and Jacques darted out of sight, pressing his body against the wall on the left side of the window. LaCroix had taken up a similar position on the right side of the window. His child stared at him with a frown.

Then both vampires heard the crash of glass breaking. They both peered around the edges of the window to see what had happened.

Nicholas Knight had dropped his bottle of blood on the kitchen floor. He had gone into full vampire mode and Jacques noticed with pleasure that he was stalking the mortal. He had not forgotten his early training, apparently. Jacques smiled slightly. Then he glanced over at LaCroix.

LaCroix was watching intently, a slight frown on his face. Then he looked over at DuPrey.

"Soon your child will be a true child of the Master again."

Natalie looked at the windows, but saw nothing there. Then she heard a crash and looked back to see Nick had dropped his bottle of blood. His eyes were yellow and he had bared his fangs. "Just get another one, Nick," she said. Nick just stood there and growled at her. Then he started toward her.

Natalie swallowed and said, "Snap out of it, Nick! You're home! Get what's in the refrigerator." Nick continued to approach her. She backed away.

Something was terribly wrong here. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she had to get him under control. "Nick, stop it! Let me help you!" Nick tilted his head upward and moved it from side to side. Natalie got the distinct impression he wanted her to get a good view of his fangs.

But she got a view of something else as well. When he tilted his head to the left, she saw a wound in his neck-or wounds. Two marks caked over with dried blood. She frowned. And now she realized that mixed in with the dirt on his face was more dried blood.

Nick moved quickly toward her and Natalie jumped back, her heart jumping as well. She ran around the end of the couch and turned to fight him off.

But Nick had halted again. At first Natalie thought that it meant he had come to his senses. But he gave her a smile that was unpleasantly like the smile Sydney used when he was playing with a captured mouse (on those few occasions when she had trouble with them). Her heart chilled.

Natalie glanced around for a weapon, but saw nothing handy. Nick was walking slowly around the end of the couch. She backed away, keeping her eyes on him. Her only hope was to somehow get to the kitchen. He'd dropped the bottle of blood he'd had, but if she could give him another, maybe he'd take it instead of her.

Nick darted toward her again and she jumped back, almost falling over the end table. Nick stopped and gave her that cat smile again. Natalie swallowed and decided to make a break for the kitchen.

But Nick grabbed her before she could even get halfway there and turned her to face him. She looked at his fangs and then into his yellow eyes. "Nick, no!" she screamed. He hesitated, his eyes travelling down her body. Then he pulled her closer to him and bent his head. His breath was cool on her neck. "Nick, please!" sobbed Natalie.

But she knew it was a vain appeal. Nick wasn't there; what held her was truly a beast. She shut her eyes.

And was suddenly free! She stumbled back, opening her eyes. Janette was there, fangs bared, and had placed herself between Nick and Natalie. Nick growled and struggled with her, his eyes on Natalie. Janette glared at her and said, "Go! I don't know how long I can hold him!" Then she turned her attention back to Nick.

Natalie fled, tears streaming down her face. To the door and stairs, not the elevator. She bounded down the steps and outside to her car. She fumbled briefly with the lock and heard a crash from above. She looked up. One of Nick's windows was broken. She pulled open her car door and got in her car. Then she sped away.

###

Nick struggled against Janette. His quarry was getting away. Why was this woman trying to stop him? "No, Nick! Stop this!" He heard her heart beat in a rhythmic way and a glow appeared in her yellow eyes. "Cheri," she cooed. "Be calm. Soit tranquille." Nick hesitated. "Take me, mon amour. Let me help you."

Nick frowned. He considered taking her. But she wasn't afraid like the mortal. He looked toward the door. The mortal woman's fear-that's what he wanted. He tried to throw the dark-haired woman aside.

But Janette kept a hold on him. "Nick. Nick!" He stopped again and looked at her. "Nicolah, listen to me. Calm yourself. Soit tranquille."

Then suddenly there was a crashing sound behind him. Janette, startled, let go of Nick. Nick turned, automatically shifting into a defense mode, his hunger forgotten for the moment.

"LaCroix!" said Janette from behind him.

LaCroix and DuPrey stood briefly amid the broken fragments of one of Nick's windows. DuPrey snarled and went for Janette. She flew upward in an effort to get away.

He caught her on the landing and dealt her a heavy blow to the jaw. Janette fell to the floor and didn't move. "Janette!" Nick cried out and, growling, launched himself at DuPrey.

DuPrey turned his attention to Nick. His eyes flared red briefly and he said, "Stop!"

Nick halted in the act of reaching for DuPrey's throat. Then he started to move his hands toward him again.

"You will stop!" DuPrey's eyes glowed and he smiled slightly. "You will obey me."

Nick felt his rage against DuPrey subsiding. He looked into the other man's eyes and knew he could not harm him. DuPrey smiled wider. Then he became serious again. "The mortal woman. She must not be allowed to live." Nick frowned. "She has what you need, what you want. The fear. You live for the fear. You want it as much as the blood."

"Yes," said Nick, remembering the delicious sensations the mortal woman's fear had created in him. He forgot everything except for the dark-eyed doe. He was the wolf and he would have her.

Then suddenly LaCroix was on the landing. "No!" he shouted, pinning DuPrey against the wall. In the process, DuPrey broke eye contact with Nick. LaCroix said, "Stay, Nicholas. I am your master. Obey me."

"What the hell are you doing, LaCroix?" said DuPrey, pushing LaCroix away. "You will obey me, Nicholas," he said. Nick felt drawn to the glow of his yellow-eyed gaze.

"No!" said LaCroix again, shoving DuPrey to the floor. "Look at me." Nick looked at LaCroix's eyes, which were a greenish yellow and glowing softly. "I am your creator, your father, your brother. You will obey me and stay." Nick looked from one to the other of them, confused.

DuPrey rose from the floor. "Have you lost your mind?"

LaCroix looked at DuPrey. "No. I believe I have found it."

"I let him live because of you! Now you wish me to not awaken the beast?"

"That is correct."

"You have lost your mind." He looked at Nick. "And you-you are an abomination!" he snarled and leaped for Nick.

Nick automatically went into defense mode again as DuPrey tackled him. But he had used a lot of blood energy that night already. DuPrey's hands soon found Nick's throat and squeezed.

Then DuPrey was gone, pulled away by LaCroix. Nick scrambled to his feet. He hesitated. Who should he aid? DuPrey or LaCroix?

Nick shut his eyes. DuPrey's suggestions warred against LaCroix's in his mind. Part of him longed to hunt the doe, the other part wanted to-

LaCroix. He opened his eyes. He needed to aid LaCroix. He waded into the thick of the fight, empowered by fear-for LaCroix's safety. And by hatred-for what DuPrey had done. Not only to him, but to the mortals he had killed.

###

DuPrey was formidable. Some insane beast nature seemed to power his fighting. Nick and LaCroix were only holding their own against him.

Then slim white hands entered the fray. Janette had recovered from DuPrey's blow and joined the struggle, lending fang and claw and her strength to aid Nick and LaCroix.

DuPrey broke from the battle and flew down to the fireplace. Nick, LaCroix, and Janette followed, and prepared to close in again. DuPrey raised a hand and said, "Hold!" His eyes flared red and they halted. "Why-are we-fighting, LaCroix?" His breathing returned to normal. "We are friends, remember?" His eyes had gone from red rimmed to yellow. They glowed softly.

"Careful, LaCroix. He's trying to hypnotize you," said Janette.

"It will not work," said LaCroix.

DuPrey scowled. Then he growled, "You sicken me! All of you! Especially you, LaCroix."

LaCroix took a step forward. "Then let me put you out of your misery."

DuPrey raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. Then he became serious once again. "I should have left you in Alyce's body. If this is an example of your gratitude."

LaCroix frowned. "Vengeance is mine, Jacques."

DuPrey looked at Nick. "Is it?" he said, looking Nick up and down.

"Yes."

DuPrey looked at each of them. "You're all poor excuses for vampires," he sneered. "None of you is worth any more of my time." He turned away from them and started to walk toward the broken window.

"Wait!" said LaCroix. DuPrey halted and turned to face him, his eyes dark. LaCroix walked close to DuPrey until they stood only inches apart-almost nose to nose. "You will release Nicholas from any of your controlling influences."

DuPrey snorted. "Gladly," he said. He walked over to Nick. His dark eyes glowed softly. "You need obey me no longer."

Nick felt something snap inside himself. He released a long breath. The desire for mortal blood and fear that had been gaining prominence in his mind again was gone. He frowned and swallowed. DuPrey broke his eye contact with Nick and moved away. He stopped in front of LaCroix. "Satisfied?" he said.

"Yes. But if I find you have retained any control over him-"

"I don't want your lap dog, LaCroix." He looked at Nick and Janette. "And now I'll be on my way, unless you've some objection."

Then DuPrey disappeared in a blur through the broken window. Nick started to follow, but Janette laid a hand on his arm. "No. We must go to the Raven for reinforcements."

LaCroix looked at them. "You will not! I-" He hesitated, then added, "I will handle this." Then he flew through the window also.

Nick started to follow again, but Janette stopped him again. "No, Nicolah. You're in no condition. You need rest and-food. Let them kill each other."

Nick looked at her. He was fatigued. He allowed Janette to pull him over to the couch and sit him down. Then she went to the kitchen and got a bottle of blood and two glasses. She sat down beside him and poured them both a drink.

She lifted the glass of animal blood to her lips and took a drink. She made a face and said, "Ugh! But I suppose it will have to do for now." She drank the blood down. Nick did the same. Then he poured two more drinks and tossed them off in quick succession.

Janette went to get another bottle of blood. As she sat beside Nick again, he noticed a dark purple welt along her jaw. He reached out and touched it gently. "Are you okay?"

Janette smiled slightly. "I will survive, Nicolah. This is minor. It will be gone by tomorrow. Vampirism is the ultimate beauty preserver, you know."

Nick smiled slightly and tossed off a fourth drink. Then he became serious again and said, "Why did you come here tonight?"

Janette looked at her glass and licked her lips. Then she looked at Nick and said, "I-felt you were in some kind of...danger."

"I see," said Nick. "Well, thank you for coming. If you hadn't been here, I don't know what I would have done to-Natalie." He suddenly remembered Nat and what he'd tried to do to her. He stood. "Nat! I've got to go to her, try to explain." He started for the window.

"Nick, don't!" said Janette, rising. He looked at her. "You still might want to-"

"I'm fine now, Janette," he said. Then he leaped out the window.

###

Jacques tucked more of his belongings into his bag. He heard a step at the door behind him and turned.

"You're leaving," said LaCroix.

"There's no need for me to stay." He looked around the room a minute, then back at LaCroix. "I suppose it's what I get for...straying from my purpose."

LaCroix's cold blue eyes took on a hard glitter. "Nicholas Knight is mine! I decide how to punish him!"

Jacques raised an eyebrow and looked away briefly. "I suppose times have changed. At one time, I expected the Cult to grow and flourish forever. But I see now that it could never have done that. And it wasn't necessary." He paused, then added, "When people have visible evil to fight, they seek more to preserve their souls."

LaCroix studied him for a few moments, then said, "Where will you go?"

"Wherever my 'fancy' takes me...as always."

LaCroix shifted uneasily, then said, "For what it's worth to you, I'm-grateful-that you brought me back to the-" He smiled slightly. "'living.'"

"An obvious mistake," said Jacques. "But-it's done. And if you are truly grateful, you'll take some advice."

"What advice?"

"Destroy Knight. He's made you weak."

A hard look came down over LaCroix's face. "I have my own plans for Nicholas."

Jacques raised his eyebrows and sighed. "Well. At least be careful about who you decide to bring across in the future." He packed the last of his few possessions into his bag and closed it. Then he picked up the bag and approached the door.

LaCroix was barring his way and for a moment both men looked at each other. Then LaCroix's eyes drifted down his former master and, when they reached the floor, he stepped aside.

There were no goodbyes.

Which was as Jacques wanted it.

'What was that mortal saying?'

'Ah, yes...'

'You can't go home again.'

Jacques rose up into the welcoming night.

###

Nick hesitated outside Natalie's apartment door, listening. He could hear two heartbeats-hers and the cat's. Natalie's heartbeat was accelerated above the normal rate. Nick could hear her moving around.

After what had happened in his apartment, Nick decided that ringing her doorbell was not a good idea. He took hold of the doorknob and turned it. He felt the lock give. She had the dead bolt and chain on her door too, but they were no hindrance. He pushed the door open.

And looked down the barrel of a pistol. Natalie held it straight out in front of her with both hands, her hands trembling slightly. Her heartbeat raced even higher. Nick blocked it out. "Nat," he said.

"You stay away from me," said Natalie, her brown eyes wide. Nick closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room. "I mean it. Stay away."

"Natalie, bullets won't kill me. You know that."

"True. But enough of them will sure as hell slow you down...maybe."

Nick licked his lips. An open suitcase sat on Natalie's couch. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to get as far away from you as possible."

Nick felt as if she had just plunged a stake into his heart. He looked down at the floor. "You don't need to do that. If anyone should leave Toronto, it should be me." He looked back up at her, dreading but wanting to commit a final picture of her face to memory.

Natalie frowned, her mouth dropping open. He turned to go.

"Wait!" said Natalie. He looked at her. She still had the gun, but had let her arms drop. "What-what happened tonight?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"I-I was under the influence of-another. I can't tell you any more than that." He didn't look at her. He had wanted to come to her and explain, but he saw that he had frightened her badly and doubted if it really mattered anymore.

"Why not?"

Nick looked at her. "Because it doesn't matter." He took a step toward her and she backed up, raising her gun again. "It won't change what happened." He walked away from her and over to the window. "Maybe it's better you know the kind of monster I am."

He waited for her to tell him to leave. Instead she said, "It was another vampire, wasn't it?"

"Yes. But I can't discuss it. I...I just want you to know...that I'm sorry, sorry I frightened you." He couldn't blame her for fearing him now, and saw no value in adding to her worries.

He heard her approach him. "But it's over now?"

"I don't know," said Nick, thinking about LaCroix. LaCroix was alive again! Who knew what he would do? He turned to her and saw Natalie flinch and step back again. "I wish I could change what happened."

Natalie licked her lips. "You can. Take the memory away."

Nick frowned at her. Could he do it? Take away the memory of what he had almost done to her in his apartment? "No," he said. "You need to know there is danger, that-my beast could emerge at any time. If...if that means you don't want to be around me anymore, I'll understand." Natalie frowned at him, but said nothing. "And I meant what I said about leaving Toronto. You have a life, friends here. You don't have to give all that up because of...anything I did."

Natalie still looked at him and said nothing. Nick decided that he should leave. "Well," he said. "Let me know if you want me to leave town." Then he walked to the door, a lump in his throat.

Nick flew back to his apartment. Janette was still there, her gaze one of concern when she saw him. Nick walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of blood. He tore out the cork with his teeth and drank directly from the bottle. Janette watched him silently. Then she said, "How is Natalie?"

"Shaken," said Nick. "Very shaken. She was packing a bag to leave town." He walked over to the couch and sat down beside Janette.

Janette looked down, pursing her lips. "I'm not surprised."

"I told her that if anyone was going to leave town, it would be me."

Janette looked at him. "What else did you tell her?"

"Nothing much. I-I didn't want to add to her worries." He studied Janette. "Janette-I...only have a vague memory, but I know you kept me from Natalie."

Janette looked at her drink. "Yes. I did."

"Why? You're the one who's always wanted me to go back to-being a normal vampire."

Janette shifted in her seat on the couch. Then she looked at him and said, "You weren't yourself. If you had killed Natalie, you would have regretted it later, perhaps."

"But letting me do so might have made me want to go back to feeding on mortals."

"Nicolah," purred Janette, "there would be nothing that would please me more than for you to live as you once lived. But only if it is your decision-not one that is forced on you." She smiled at him and he smiled back. "So are you going to tell me what happened?"

Nick poured some blood into his glass and took a sip. "DuPrey overpowered me, drained my blood. When I came to, I was in the warehouse where we fought before. He-he gave me some of his own blood-"

"Which gave him control over you?"

Nick nodded. "I tried to get away. Alyce Hunter helped me."

"Alyce Hunter?"

"Apparently she didn't just die from LaCroix's bite. What's stranger is that she had LaCroix's spirit inside her."

"So she is allied with LaCroix?"

Nick's expression got grim. "I don't know. I-I needed blood and she was- I drained her." He stood. "I have to go back and see what happened to her."

"I'll go with you," said Janette.

"No."

"But DuPrey may still be there. And LaCroix."

"No. You've done enough."

"I won't let you meet them alone."

"Neither of us could handle the both of them."

"Then we'll get reinforcements from the Raven."

"Fine. You do that while I go on ahead."

"But, Nick-"

Nick flew out the window. Before long, he had reached the warehouse where he had been held prisoner. He dropped down through the skylight silently.

The place was dark and silent. Nick crept forward slowly, his senses alert. On the floor ahead of him, he saw a line of clothes and a piece of wood stained a powdery brown at one end.

"He killed her," came a voice. Nick turned to see LaCroix step out from behind some boxes. He approached Nick. "Oh, don't worry. DuPrey is gone." He looked down at the clothing on the floor. "I suppose I should have been grateful to Alyce for sheltering me these past two years. But she's better off destroyed. She was becoming soft. Like you, Nicholas." LaCroix looked at Nick.

Nick stood tensely, prepared for an attack. LaCroix merely looked at him and said, "But don't make the mistake of thinking I've gone soft. I saved you from DuPrey because you are mine, to do with as I wish, when I wish. I have not forgotten what you did. And you will pay." There were some swooshing sounds outside the building. LaCroix looked in the direction of the noise. Then he looked at Nick again. "Remember, Nicholas, vengeance will be mine."

Then LaCroix rose up and out the skylight.

The door to the warehouse burst open and Janette and a few of her vampire companions stood there, eyes yellow and fangs bared. "It's all right, Janette." He looked at the pile of clothing that was all that remained of Alyce Hunter. "No one's here."

###

Natalie walked into the Raven. A week had passed since the incident at Nick's place, a week spent in nightmares, doubt, and...distance. She had not been able to tell Nick to leave town-despite what had happened, she still loved him, as insane as it was. But he had frightened her and she feared it would be a long time before she could feel comfortable with him again. So she had kept Nick at a distance, associating with him on a professional and doctor with patient basis only. Nick accepted her attitude, but she thought he wondered why she still wanted to associate with him at all.

Natalie spied Janette standing at the bar. She walked over to her and said, "I'd like to talk to you."

Janette looked her over and said, "Come into the back room." Natalie followed her.

Natalie looked around the redecorated room, remembering the last time she had been there. Nick had been drunk then on blood and disillusionment after Monica Howard had failed in helping him with his "addiction," after Monica had told him, "Recovery is just the spaces between fixes." Nick had been in a dangerous mood then, but Natalie had still been able to reach him. Not like-

Janette fitted a cigarette in a long holder and puffed on it. "What did you want to speak to me about?" she asked.

Natalie hesitated. The one image that kept returning to her and bothering her was the one of Janette holding Nick back, giving Natalie time to flee. She knew she owed Janette her life. But she had seen Janette "vamped out" and it was...disquieting. It had taken Natalie until now to get up the nerve to come and see Janette.

"I-" She paused and licked her lips. "I came to thank you. For saving me from Nick."

Janette looked Natalie up and down. "Thanks are not necessary."

"Yes, they are. You could have let Nick-"

"I did not do it for you," said Janette coldly. "I did it for him," she continued quietly. "If he had-killed you-while he was not in control of himself-no matter if the fault wasn't his-he would have...suffered for it." An almost wistful look passed across Janette's face. Then her expression hardened again and she said, "He's had enough guilt to last a hundred lifetimes."

Natalie didn't quite know what to say. It wasn't the conversation she had envisioned.

Janette smiled slightly and blew some smoke. "Tell me, why are you still in Toronto."

"Nick didn't want me to leave. Since I have roots here."

Janette raised her eyebrows. "But you have not asked him to leave."

"No."

"Why not?"

"What happened-wasn't his fault. He still needs my help."

"To become mortal."

"Yes." Natalie got an idea. "I-I could try to do the same for you."

Janette laughed. "Why would I wish for such a thing when I have all eternity to look forward to? Nicolah's attitude is-unique-among our kind."

"Well, if you should change your mind-"

"I doubt it." Natalie stood silently, studying Janette. Finally Janette said, "Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me."

There were a million questions Natalie wanted answers to-who was the vampire who'd controlled Nick, was he or she still out there somewhere, what was Janette's involvement with the matter- But, looking at Janette, Natalie doubted she would give her any answers. She sighed and said, "No. Except to say, thank you." It was her main reason for coming, after all.

Janette puffed on her cigarette again. Natalie watched her, trying to imagine her beast coming to the fore. Like she'd seen with Nick. She became uneasy and, for once, wished she had never known there were such things as vampires. "Well, I guess I should go," she said and turned to leave.

"Natalie," said Janette. Natalie looked at her. "You do realize that what happened with Nick could happen again and without it being forced on him."

Natalie did not like to be reminded of that possibility, but it was something which she was very much aware of now. She didn't know if she could ever forget it. "Yes," she said."You play with fire. Take care you do not get burned."

"I thought you didn't care what happened to me."

"I don't. As I said, I care what happens to him."

For a moment, Janette seemed human. Then she looked toward the entrance to the club and got an odd, worried expression. She looked at Natalie. "Perhaps you should leave by the back door."

Natalie frowned. "Why?"

"There may be-dangers for you here." She was pulling Natalie over to the back exit.

"What do you mean? What dangers?"

"Believe me, Dr. Lambert, you do not wish to know." She opened the door and pushed Natalie out into the alley. "If I were you, I'd think about taking an extended vacation." Then she shut the door in Natalie's face.

Natalie looked at the closed door, perplexed. Then, feeling a sudden chill, she walked quickly to her car.

###

While in the Raven, Janette walked out into the bar to meet LaCroix...

Natalie drove away from the Raven, thinking. Why had Janette been so eager for her to leave? What danger could she be in? Had Nick gone into another frenzy? Was he after her even now?

No. If it had been Nick gone berserk again, Janette would have been less cryptic in her remarks. She wouldn't have advised her to go on an extended vacation. Although Natalie was beginning to think that that might not be a bad idea.

She tightened her hands on the steering wheel in frustration. She couldn't live like this, with this-fear. Or with the mystery either.

She turned her car in the direction of Nick's apartment. It was his night off; maybe he'd be home. Her heart pounded faster at the thought of meeting alone with him. But she had decided she had to know what was going on and he had better tell her.

She pulled up on the street outside his apartment. She looked up to the second floor windows. The shutters were raised and it looked like there were lights on. Not that that necessarily meant anything. Nick often left lights burning, as a way to stave off his constant world of darkness, she suspected.

Natalie got out of her car. She hesitated briefly, then walked over to the door. She thought about just punching in the door code, then decided to ring the bell instead. She looked up at the camera that monitored the door and said, "Nick? It's Nat. If you're there, I'd like to see you."

After a moment, the door buzzer sounded. Natalie opened the door and stepped into the elevator.

Nick was standing by the window when she opened the elevator door. Natalie stepped into the room with some hesitation. "Have you come to tell me you want me to leave town?" asked Nick.

"No," said Natalie. Nick frowned at her. "I came to find out what happened."

Nick looked out the window. "It's not something you need to know about."

Natalie moved closer to him. "You almost attack me and Janette rushes me out of the Raven and it's nothing I need to know about?"

Nick looked at her. "What were you doing at the Raven?"

"I-I went to thank Janette. For saving me from you." He looked down briefly, then back at her. "Then she practically threw me out the back door because there could be 'dangers' for me there! What dangers, Nick?"

Nick looked out the window again. "She didn't elaborate?"

"No. Except to say I might like to take an 'extended vacation.'"

"That might not be a bad idea. Then again, maybe I should leave Toronto."

Natalie walked over to him, thoroughly angry now. She grabbed Nick's arm. He looked at her. "Damn you! After all I've done for you, I deserve an explanation! If I'm in some kind of danger, I deserve to know about it!" Then, her outburst over, she realized she had Nick's arm and released him.

"You're right," said Nick. He sighed and then added, "You'd better sit down." And he told her the whole story-about DuPrey, DuPrey's capture and control of him, and Alyce, and LaCroix being alive again-as he paced back and forth before the fireplace. He finally halted before her and said, "If LaCroix should find out you've been trying to help me become mortal again, he could come after you. Or he could even if he doesn't find out that particular fact."

"Why?" asked Natalie.

Nick sat on the other side of the couch, but seemed to take care not to sit too close to her. He looked at the fireplace and said quietly, "Because you mean something to me." Natalie looked down. His words stirred her heart, but then the visage of him as a ravening beast came unwilling to her mind.

Nick sighed and rose again, startling Natalie. "It could be that LaCroix went into the Raven tonight."

"But why would he do that?"

Nick looked at her. "Because Janette is his 'child' just as I am. He may be seeking her help."

"But she was ready to help you at the warehouse."

Nick walked over to the window. "Yes. In a straight battle. But LaCroix could sway her to his side if he speaks with her."

"I don't think so," said Natalie, remembering Janette's expressions when talking about Nick.

"LaCroix is her father, her brother." He hesitated and added, "It's a very hard relationship to deny. Or defy."

"You did. So can Janette."

Nick was silent for a moment. Then he said, "No, I must leave Toronto."

"And do what? Run from LaCroix forever?" Nick looked at her. "You defeated him once, Nick. You can do it again."

Nick looked out the window again. "The first time was a fluke. I was-enraged-and caught him by surprise."

"But if you run, who's going to help you to become mortal again?"

Nick frowned. "I'll find an answer somewhere."

Natalie stood and approached him. "No. We're making real progress. If you leave now, all our work will have been for nothing." Nick turned and looked at her.

"You still want to help me?"

"Yes. More than ever." Nick studied her a moment, then reached out to touch her arm. But Natalie cringed away. She couldn't help it. A pained look crossed Nick's face and he dropped his hand. "I don't want to be afraid of you," said Natalie.

Nick looked out the window again. "Maybe you should be. I could be as much a danger to you as LaCroix."

"But you're worth saving." She paused, then added, "Don't leave town, Nick. Unless you're going to take me with you."

Nick walked over to the couch and sat down. "Why would you want to put yourself in such danger?"

Natalie hesitated, then sat on the other end of the couch. "Because you mean something to me, too," she said quietly, not looking at him. She felt his eyes on her though. When he had been ill from his diet of animal blood, she'd told him she loved him. He had discouraged her then because of what he was. And that condition had not changed. In fact, his warning of danger for her if she got too close to him was now a more fearful reality than she had ever wanted. She wondered if he understood.

Then she got an idea. "Nick, I know you said you didn't want to erase my memory of what happened. But...isn't there some way to just erase the feeling of fear, while leaving a sense of-of preservation if...if something like that should happen again?" She looked at Nick. He was still watching her.

"You would want me to do something like that?"

Natalie licked her lips and said, "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

A glow appeared in Nick's eyes. Natalie felt fear at first, then her fear of him disappeared in the fascination his gaze held for her. He slid closer and took her hand and still she felt no fear. Then he broke eye contact with her and released her. He slid back over to his side of the couch, avoiding her gaze. "I can't. You haven't considered the ramifications of what you ask."

"I want you to do it, Nick."

He looked at her. "Had you thought of this idea before tonight?" Natalie was silent. "I didn't think so." He rose from the couch. "I think you should consider it some more," he said, looking out the window. "Maybe you should follow Janette's suggestion and take a vacation." His shoulders looked stiff and Natalie could see that she wasn't about to sway him into hypnotizing her. Very well. If that was the way he wanted it.

Natalie rose from the couch. "Maybe you're right. I do need a vacation." She walked over to the elevator door. She opened it and, turning back to him, said, "Maybe it will clear my thoughts." Or give her more time for nightmares... She waited a moment, hoping Nick would tell her not to go.

But he just continued to look out the window. Angry and disappointed, Natalie left.

###

Nick watched Natalie get into her car. She did not even look up at him. As he watched her drive away, he thought it was for the best. After all that had happened, Natalie could use a vacation. She'd have time to think things over in a neutral and more relaxed setting. And she'd be safe from LaCroix for a time. Maybe a long enough time so that Nick could deal with him before she returned.

LaCroix. The very name sent a surge of hatred and fear through Nick.

"You harm anyone I care about and vengeance will be mine, LaCroix," he promised the night.

Then he turned away.

THE END