Downward Spiral, parts 14-27
by Jarvinia

Disclaimer, notes are in the first file.


Downward Spiral - (14/27)

Two nights later, in a random hotel along a minor highway, LaCroix
woke suddenly at the sound of a piece of paper being flipped over.  He
sat up and turned to find Nick looking through the file Aristotle had
given them the previous evening.  Closing his eyes for a moment,
LaCroix asked, "Picked a location yet, Nicholas?"

Nick snapped his attention toward LaCroix, startled that the other was
awake.  Without speaking, he took the page he was looking at and
handed it toward the other.

Taking the sheet of paper, LaCroix immediately focused on the location
listed above a rough schematic of a building: Detroit.  "And the other
options?"

"Vancouver and Portland."

"Portland...?"

"Oregon."

"And Detroit because?"

"The building has more exits than the others and less security."

LaCroix' eyes narrowed, aware there had to be more.  "Both Portland
and Vancouver are on the West Coast, mere hours from here.  Detroit is
more than a day's travel.  It's because it's closer to Toronto.  You
cannot return there, Nicholas.  You know that."

"I can return to Toronto whenever I wish, LaCroix.  But I've already
stated my reasons for choosing Detroit.  It's a better target.  And,
yes, it's closer to Toronto and as such, possibly, we will be less
suspected."  Nick took the pages on the other two stations and shoved
them toward LaCroix.  "Here.  Compare them and tell me which target
you would prefer."

LaCroix was somewhat surprised at the abruptness, but took the sheets.
Glancing through each page, including the one the other had already
given him, he carefully compared the three.  Vancouver, British
Columbia, was a close second, hindered by the poor layout of the
building and the note of 'increased probability of interruptions'.
Portland, Oregon, was in fact neither Portland nor Oregon, but instead
Vancouver, Washington.  And while otherwise optimal, the increased
security in the building, specifically an on-site security guard
watching the cameras, made the station the least appealing.  The small
station in Detroit had both lax security and a good layout--and a note
about being predictable.

"And?"

LaCroix sat the pages on the bed next to him, nodding slightly.
"Detroit would be the simplest."

Nick pulled another page out of the folder and passed it to LaCroix.

Seeing that the sheet detailed the number of people in the building at
various times throughout the night, LaCroix once again narrowed his
eyes.

"Aristotle had the stations watched for several weeks."

About to ask how Nick knew that, LaCroix' gaze caught on an asterisk
by 12:45 a.m. and then spotted the other asterisk a bit above the
bottom of the page and read the note to himself:

"Best time, usually between eight and twelve mortals in the building. 
Least possibility of an interruption.  Tuesday nights are the most
predictable."

LaCroix turned back to his son.  "You've already made plans, haven't
you?"

Nick stiffened.  "Yes."

"And you plan for us to go to Toronto after we leave Detroit."

"Yes," Nick whispered, quickly averting his gaze.

Separating the pages and handing the non-relevant pages back, LaCroix
simply said, "Burn them, and then we will leave."

Still tense, Nick watched as LaCroix calmly stood and crossed the
room, pulled on his jacket and straightened his clothes.  He stood up,
nearly taking a step forward but stopping.  "You...have no
objections?"

"Toronto is no worse a choice than any other city.  If you wish to
risk--"

"Schanke will be in no danger unless we draw attention to our presence
there!"

"I said nothing about endangering your partner!  But we will not be
able to stay long, if at all.  It is dangerous for us."

"We won't be expected to go to Toronto.  And it will only be until we
need to leave to meet Nathaniel."

LaCroix took the pages he didn't give Nick, neatly folded them, and
put them in his inside jacket pocket.  "Destroy the rest of the
papers, Nicholas.  If we are to be in Detroit by midnight Tuesday, we
should leave now."

After a few seconds, Nick nodded.  LaCroix was right in that they
needed to leave now.  It was Sunday night and they had a little less
than 48 hours to reach their destination.  Doable, but it would be
tiring.

Walking to the hotel room's door, LaCroix turned back and told Nick,
"I will ensure that our presence here has gone unnoticed, and then I
will wait for you.  Do not linger long."

As soon as LaCroix left, Nick turned his gaze to the sheets of paper
in his hand.  LaCroix had practically accepted his decision with
barely a hint of argument.  But then, what other choice did LaCroix
have?

Nick stiffened and closed his eyes, focusing on the calm and
controlled energy that faded as LaCroix' presence moved further away. 
His eyes snapped open, realising the other's thoughts mirrored his
own; they both felt helpless to this.  LaCroix wanted this done with. 
And so did he.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

As a woman finished cleaning up her work area at a lightboard, Nick
and LaCroix slid into a shadow a short distance away.  They had
already found the briefing room and prepared it, leaving a stack of
paper and a box of pens--both fresh out of the station's front desk--
in the centre of the table.  All that was needed was a messenger.

Looking to LaCroix, Nick received a nod.  As soon as the woman had
finished and headed for the hall, Nick grabbed her from behind,
covering her mouth to prevent her from screaming.

LaCroix then stepped out into the open, at which the woman struggled
harder.  Lips twisting into a smile, LaCroix locked his gaze with the
mortal's.  "Know that you will not be harmed."  Stepping closer, his
voice softened as he intoned, "*There is nothing to be frightened of. 
You will relax.  Nothing to be afraid of....*"

Feeling the woman relax, Nick slowly released his grip.  When the
mortal stood still, dazed by LaCroix' words, Nick saw LaCroix' mood
brighten ever so slightly.

"*Now, you will listen very carefully to my voice....  Listen and
commit to memory.  The producer called the station.  He is on his way
over for a short meeting.  You are to tell your co-workers to meet in
the briefing room at ten till one.*"

The woman's lips moved faintly, but she didn't speak.

"*What are you to do?*"

"The producer called a meeting...."

"*Yes.  You just spoke to him.  Gather the others.*"  LaCroix turned
the woman around by the shoulders and whispered into her ear, "*You
didn't see anyone in the building.  All that's on your mind is the
call you just received and the meeting you'll be going to.  Nothing
more.  Now go.*"  LaCroix gave her a light push on the back, and he
and Nick headed in the other direction, to the briefing room.

They both entered the dark room, quickly finding cover behind a
partition.

"We can still leave, Nicholas."

Nick closed his eyes and shook his head.  "No.  No, we're here.  It'll
take a whole fifteen minutes.  Let's just get it over with."  Nick
looked down at his watch, and he could just make out the time: 12:40. 
They still had ten minutes.  He leaned back against the wall only to
stiffen a few seconds later as the door opened and the room's lights
snapped on.

Over the next ten minutes seven more mortals entered the room, each
sitting at the table, talking quietly among themselves.  Eventually,
the conversation turned to what the meeting was going to be about.

Two minutes past their set time, Nick met LaCroix' gaze for a second,
then headed out into the open.

Conversation stopped immediately.  Everyone sitting at the table
reacted in some way, fear the dominating emotion.  One man stood and
two others made to do the same, but stopped at scooting their chairs
back.  The other five sat in various states of fright.

Nick slowly walked toward the table.  "You all know who and what I am,
yes?" he asked, his voice controlled and even, almost harsh.

The man that had stood up immediately asked, "What are you going to do
with us?"

"First, sit down," Nick said, the instruction directed solely at the
one who questioned him.

The man shook his head.  "I know what you are, what you have done."

"You know nothing about me," Nick responded, his anger rising and
making itself present in his tone as he nearly hissed the words at the
mortal.

"I would do as Nicholas has asked," LaCroix spoke, stepping up behind
Nick, his gaze locked on the mortal who had spoken.  When the man sat
down, LaCroix continued, adding, "We are not here to be accused."

"You called this meeting," said the woman that LaCroix had earlier
influenced.

"Yes," Nick answered.  He nodded to the centre of the table, where the
pens and paper sat.  "You have until one o'clock to write down any
questions you have about my kind."

At that, several hands reached toward the items in the centre.

"Anything about vampires?" another woman asked as the others started
writing.

"Yes.  Anything about what we are and what is happening.  I'll tell
you now that not everything the news has reported is accurate or, in
some cases, even correct."

For a moment, the only noise was the scratching of pen on paper.
Then, the same woman that had asked the last question cautiously
asked, "Is there anything we can't ask?"

Nick didn't immediately answer, closing his eyes for a second.  As he
heard others stop writing as well, apparently curious of the answer,
Nick told them, "Personal questions will more than likely go
unanswered."

"You have three minutes," LaCroix said, turning the mortal's attention
back to the pieces of paper in front of them.

At one o'clock, LaCroix walked up to the closest mortal, hand
outstretched to take the piece of paper sitting before them.  After a
second, it was handed to him, at which he went on, silently, to the
next mortal.

As LaCroix continued counter-clockwise around the table, Nick told
them, "Ask what questions you want now.  I'm sure you're curious why
we're doing this."

"What do you want the questions for?"

"To answer, of course," LaCroix responded.

Shooting a glance at LaCroix' for the reply, Nick explained, "We will
try to answer at least three questions from each of you."

"Now?"

"No.  It is too dangerous for us to linger, even here.  The answers
will be recorded on a video tape and distributed."

"When, how?"

"I can't say.  But it will most likely be within the next few weeks."

"Will we receive one of the copies?"

Nick paused.  He couldn't answer this question, one way or the other,
and so he simply replied, "Perhaps, and perhaps not."

The information seemed to satisfy those present, and as LaCroix
collected the last sheet, the two headed toward the room's exit.

"What about questions of curiosity?"

Before either Nick or LaCroix had a chance to answer, another half-
blurted, "Did you kill her?" at which all movement at the table
stopped.

Nick froze solid, his gaze quickly shifting to the mortal that had
asked the last question.  He relaxed slightly when he saw that the
man's face held far more interest and far less malice than he had
expected.  Even so, Nick barely kept his eyes from turning, the topic
not something he wished to talk about to these strangers.  Flatly, he
told the mortal, "No, I did not."  Then, after a few silent seconds,
Nick left with LaCroix following closely behind him, no further
questions being asked as they departed.  Nor did any of the mortals
attempt to follow them.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

As the sun rose, Nick and LaCroix just barely arrived in Toronto and
made it to the Schanke residence.  Going to the back door, the rising
sun cast their shadows against the house and burnt their exposed skin.
Nick paused only a few short moments before he forcibly twisted the
knob, breaking the lock, and he and LaCroix cautiously entered.

The house seemed silent, but Nick slowed as he smelt coffee brewing in
the kitchen.  Turning to LaCroix, he whispered, "Let me talk to Myra
first."  He waited only a few seconds before heading toward the
heartbeat heading toward them.

Nick caught Myra just as she left the main hall, grabbing her from
behind much like he did the woman at the station earlier that night.
"Don't be frightened," he said, and then released her.

"Nick?" Myra asked as she turned around, watching him turn away.
"How...I mean, the sun came up a few minutes--"  She cut off as Nick
looked right at her and she saw small burns on the right side of his
face.

"We need a place to stay, at least for the day.  Come nightfall you
can kick us out if you don't want us here."

"Are you in danger?  Is someone--"

"We need a place to rest, that is all," LaCroix said.

Myra spun at the icy voice, her eyes widening upon seeing the other
man, the other vampire.  She noticed similar burns on his face as
well.

"You'll know plenty when the morning news comes on," LaCroix told her,
managing a slight smirk.

Nick stepped up behind Myra, sensing her fear through her quickening
heartbeat.  "We came here because we can't risk being found."
Unintentionally, Nick moved closer, closing his eyes.  A wave of
weakness travelled through him and he took a step away, his eyes
snapping open.  As his hand touched the wall, Nick felt calm from the
cool and solid surface, at which he leaned against it.  "Please, Myra,
we need to rest."

Turning back to face Nick, Myra's pulse shot up further upon seeing
his golden eyes.  She nearly spoke, but instead gasped feeling hands
on her shoulders.

"We may stay, yes?" LaCroix demanded, whispering into the mortal's
ear.

"Y-yes, of course," Myra told him, turning to find another pair of
golden eyes.  "Is there anything I can do to help--"

"We will be fine," LaCroix softly stated as he walked by Myra.  Taking
Nick by the arm, he turned the younger toward the hall and quietly
asked, "Where?"

Nick didn't answer, he merely headed down the hall to the spare
bedroom he had stayed in before.

Myra followed, but stopped after they entered the room and shut the
door, making it clear she wasn't to follow.


Downward Spiral - (15/27)

As soon as Schanke arrived home, he flipped the television on.  He had
heard, vaguely, that Nick had done something in Detroit...but hadn't
yet figured out what, exactly.  The radio on the way home hadn't been
too helpful, other than to tell him information on what happened was
slowly filtering down and that Nick--and LaCroix--had popped up at a
Detroit news station.

As local news wasn't on, Schanke flipped to a cable news channel and
stared blankly at the unflattering photos displayed of Nick and
LaCroix up one side of the screen as the reporter spoke:

"-Brabant and Lucien LaCroix showed themselves at KLEW, a local
station in Detroit, Michigan.  Earlier this morning Lisa May was on
site with Martin Ledbetter, one of the station employees in the
building at the time."

Schanke watched the screen switch to a woman and a man, sitting in
what looked like a large briefing room.

"You said this was completely unsuspected?"

"Well, it was odd to have a meeting at almost one in the morning, but
not unheard of.  We had no idea anything was wrong until one of them
stepped out into the open."

"What happened, exactly?"

"Well, we came here, for a meeting, expecting the producer's arrival. 
Just after we were supposed to be there, Knight...  Brabant...he comes
out into the open.  And then the other followed a moment later.
Brabant told us to write down what questions we had about vampires.
After a few minutes they took the sheets.  They said they'd be making
a tape with answers.  They were here ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

"And their demeanour?"

"Well, they were a bit...distant and almost harsh.  They looked weary,
and paler than any of the photos I've seen of them.  Reminded me how I
get after I've pulled several long shifts; drained of energy and a bit
easy to irritate."

"Are you saying they seemed dangerous?"

"Ah, well...no," the man said, shaking his head somewhat slowly.  I
mean, yeah, maybe they were on-edge, but, no, I wouldn't actually say
they were dangerous."

Schanke's eyes had by now widened slightly.  Dangerous?  Was that what
they were trying to call Nick?  The screen flipped back to the other
reporter, who continued:

"The employees all have similar relations of events, all conveying a
sense of tenseness and distrust in the two vampires.  The IVEA is
looking for both Brabant and LaCroix for--"

Schanke switched off the television.  He knew what they wanted to find
Nick and LaCroix for--to kill them before they could follow through
with this.

"Don?"

Schanke turned to his wife, for a second, then wasting no time before
venting about the news he told her, "Why can't they just wait and see
what's going to happen?  And why does everyone seem to try and put a
negative spin on Nick and them?  Maybe once they get their side out
things will start going better."  He stared at the blank television
screen for several seconds, then mused aloud, "I hope Nick's thought
this through; hope he's okay."

"I'm not sure he is."

"What?" Schanke asked, turning sharply back toward Myra as she
approached.  Then, he raised the hand he held the remote in, asking,
"What else did they say?"

"No, it's nothing that's been on the news.  Nick, he's here," Myra
said, taking the remote.  "He and the other man, LaCroix, got here
just after dawn.  They're in the spare bedroom."

Schanke didn't move for nearly a minute, his mind trying to wrap
itself around what Myra had just told him.  Nick, who he honestly
never expected to see again, was back, here, in his home?  Then,
Schanke started for the hall, but only took a step when he felt Myra's
hand on his arm.

"Take care.  Perhaps let them sleep?"

"Why?  What--"

"Don't worry, nothing happened.  But, like I said, I'm not sure Nick's
really okay.  And they both looked unwell.  They are quite pale
and...." Myra paused a few seconds, then finished, "And they both had
slight burns.  They said they needed rest, and they haven't had much
time to--" Myra halted mid-sentence when her husband broke away and
headed for the hall anyway, fully aware that if he wanted to check on
Nick she couldn't stop him.

Schanke reached the door to the spare room in seconds, but paused
outside the door.  Would he wake Nick?  Or just check, to see that he
was really there?  And LaCroix...he didn't particularly like the idea
of having LaCroix in his home for some reason.  Seeing Myra approach,
he turned toward her.

"Jenny, she left for a friend's just a few minutes ago.  I...told her
she could stay out until dinner.  She doesn't know they're here yet."

Nodding absently, Schanke reached out for the doorknob and, quietly,
entered the room.  He pushed the door closed but for a small crack and
paused as his eyes adjusted to the dark room.

On the bed were Nick and LaCroix.  The latter seemed calm; lying on
his back, sound asleep.  Nick looked less comfortable as he lay mostly
on his stomach, his body seeming tense.

Schanke nearly turned and left, but seeing Nick shift slightly he
decided to approach.  After all, if Nick was already nearly awake....

Reaching out to gently wake Nick, Schanke snatched his hand back when
Nick opened his eyes.  A few seconds passed where neither of them made
any movement.  "Nick?" Schanke whispered.  "You awake?"

Nick closed his eyes at the question.  He hadn't slept at all since he
and LaCroix had arrived at Schanke's.  He thought he would fall right
to sleep, but he had already been waiting to do just that for more
than two hours.

"Nick?" Schanke again prodded, moving a little closer.

"I'm awake," Nick replied, shifting onto his side and then slowly
sitting up.

Schanke's attention darted past Nick upon seeing the other vampire
move, likely woken by Nick's movement.  Quickly, he focused back on
Nick and quickly realised Nick looked exhausted.  "You...look like you
haven't slept."

"I don't think I have."

"I can, ah, go if you'd prefer to get some sleep?"

"No, I'm up."  Nick went to stand, but halted his attempt and closed
his eyes almost immediately.  He sat for a little longer, glad Schanke
hadn't yet said anything more.  And then he tried again, this time
standing, albeit a bit unsteadily at first.  Nick gave a quick glance
to Schanke before heading out of the room.  He paused upon seeing
Myra, instinctively looking away as their eyes met.

Concerned when Nick stopped, Schanke asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No."  Glancing back at Schanke, Nick repeated, "No, nothing's wrong,"
and then continued into the main living area.  Silently, he went to
the windows and pulled the drapes shut, darkening the room
significantly.

Schanke slowly followed Nick.  Despite the other's answer, he knew
something was up.  Nick seemed different.  It was more than just the
outward hint of tiredness; Nick's whole movement was off.  And then it
hit him.  Nick was acting more like when they first became partners.
He was wary and guarded.  Granted, Nick had never lost those
qualities, but his manner seemed almost unfriendly, cold, and that was
something he hadn't seen in a while.

"We can leave as soon as the sun sets."

"Nick--"

"I heard the news earlier, before you got back.  They're looking for
us."

"But they couldn't have traced you here, right?" Schanke asked,
knowing it was unlikely.  "You and LaCroix came straight here, yes?"

"Yes, but--"

"Then they have no reason to think you are here.  But if you leave,
there's a greater chance of them finding you, right?  I'd think that
right now you wouldn't want to be found.  And they're going to look
hard, especially if they can stop your plan."

"Being here endangers your family, Schanke.  Your wish for us to stay
isn't enough."

"What about mine?" Myra asked, approaching Nick from the side.  "I
agree with Don.  If you haven't been traced here, we're in no more
danger than if you weren't here.  Less, perhaps, given what you are."

Nick spun toward the voice, but didn't have an immediate response.

"You came here because you thought it was the best option, right?"
Myra continued, stepping closer.  "If you want to stay, Nick, please
do.  Don't feel that you have to leave."

Closing his eyes, Nick looked away.  Although deep down he wanted to
turn down the offer, he also knew here was the safest place to be
right now.  Seeing Myra moving closer, Nick sidestepped as she reached
out a hand toward him.

"I'm sorry, I just--" Myra stiffened when Nick turned toward her, his
icy gaze making her take a step back.  "I should leave you two to
talk."  Myra moved away, her gaze alternating between them.  "I'll be
in the kitchen."

"Myra, could you maybe bring me a cup of coffee?"

Myra nodded and then, just as she turned to leave, she saw Nick shift
and look like he wanted to say something.

Schanke also noticed Nick wavering between keeping silent and not.
"Nick?"

"I could maybe use something to drink?" he asked, uncertainly.

"How about some water?" Myra asked.  "I'd bring you some coffee, but
I'm guessing water would be better?"

"Water would be fine."

Forcing a smile, Myra turned and headed to the kitchen.

Schanke held back, watching Nick's attention stray.  When Nick slowly
took a few steps forward, toward the couch, and then sat down, Schanke
finally asked, "You haven't, ah, fed recently, have you?  Is that even
the right term?  I've, well, never even seen you drink water before or
ask for it.  You dehydrated or, well, hungry enough that you can drink
water?"

Nick ignored most of Schanke's rambling.  In truth, he had no
particular want for the water, but it might preoccupy his hunger for a
little.  "Something like that."

"Come on, Nick, you can at least tell me how you are, right?"

Meeting Schanke's gaze fully, Nick told the other, "Blood isn't
exactly easy to come by, Schanke.  And, frankly, I haven't been
feeling very hungry."

"So you're not getting enough blood."

"That, and travelling is...taxing.  I mean, we can't exactly travel by
normal means.  We'd be spotted.  Flying takes energy."  Eyes drifting
to the floor, Nick added, "And sometimes sleep doesn't come easy."

Schanke absently nodded his head.  "It adds up."

Nick silently echoed Schanke's nod.  When Myra approached from the
kitchen a couple of minutes later, Nick stiffened but managed to
mutter, "Thanks," as she sat a glass of cold water down on the table
along with a mug of coffee.

Schanke cautiously approached Nick and sat on the couch.  He was about
to ask Nick a question, but stopped when Nick picked up the remote for
the TV and switched it on.

The news came up, the newscaster reporting:

"The IVEA has traced two unnamed vampires from the Los Angeles area to
Colorado.  It is believed that they, along with Brabant, LaCroix, and
at least two others, were behind the plans for the disruption last
night in Detroit."

Nick immediately turned his gaze down as he quickly hit the mute
button.  He kept his eyes away from the screen for several seconds, at
which he reached for the glass of water and drank a large gulp of the
clear liquid with a cringe.  His eyes glancing back up to the news,
Nick turned the volume back on as a dark image flashed on the screen
with two familiar figures--Holly and Aristotle--the latter's face
clearly visible.

"Information on this man is being sought.  Both he and the young woman
seen with him are suspected vampires and should not be approached.
They were last seen two nights ago in New Mexico and are believed to
be heading east.  They are suspected to be the other two vampires
aiding Brabant and are believed to be planning to meet up with--"

Nick, who had tensed considerably, shut the television off and took
another large drink from his water.  He didn't need to hear the rest.

Ignoring his coffee, Schanke watched Nick drink the rest of the water
in a single gulp with astonishment.  Schanke couldn't ignore the ashen
tone Nick now had to his skin, but wasn't sure if it was the water,
the news, or both that caused it.  With care, Schanke quietly asked,
"You recognised them, didn't you?  They, the IVEA that is, they're on
to something."  Watching Nick tense, Schanke abruptly and nervously
added, "You don't have to answer.  It's just--"

"It's fine," Nick half-hissed, then relaxed, turning to Schanke
apologetically.  "I...should probably tell you, actually."  Nick
turned away, whispering, "With Aristotle being discovered, this
becomes more dangerous."

"Aristotle?"

"The man in the picture they showed.  Aristotle knows I was hoping to
come here, to you.  I don't know if he'll try contacting me or not.
If so, it will most likely be through you."

"He was working with you, wasn't he?  Like they suspect."

"I've been travelling with him and three others the last couple of
months."

"So, him, the woman, LaCroix and Janette?"

"No.  No, I left them to go with Aristotle.  Until a few days ago, I
hadn't seen LaCroix.  And Janette?  I have no idea where Janette is.
Aristotle...he was working with three younger vampires I didn't know."

"He's not, well, you know...."

"What?"

"Well, Aristotle.  You know, the real one--not to say your friend
isn't real--but he's not that Aristotle, right?"

"No, he's not," Nick answered, almost managing a smile.  "Actually, he
usually keeps a low-profile.  He's good at it.  It was, and still is,
his, ah, expertise."

Schanke tensed, seeing Nick's carefully hidden concern.  "If he's been
found--"

"If he's been found--or worse, if any of his records have been found--
my kind are very much in trouble."

"Records?  What kind of records?  So, what, he's some kind of vampire
record keeper?" Schanke half-joked, but kept his tone calm and
curious.

"Yes."

"Yes?"  Schanke's eyes went a bit wide.  "Records....  Wait a second,
you said he's good at keeping a low-profile...so he helps to keep your
kind off the radar?"

"Something like that."

Schanke paused, letting his thoughts multiply at Nick's answer.
Clearly, Nick didn't want to talk about it.  "So, ah, well, are you
meeting with him like they think?"

Nick shook his head.  "No."

"You're meeting the other two."

Nick sharply turned to face Schanke, initially a bit surprised by the
guess.  "Yes.  However; this has become significantly more dangerous."
Nick stood up, starting to pace almost immediately.

Watching Nick's slow but increasingly anxious steps, Schanke prodded,
"Is this going to change what you're doing?"

Mid-step, Nick stopped.  Turning to Schanke, he whispered, "I don't
know.  I'll have to talk to LaCroix tonight."

"You going to try and get some sleep?"

Nick stopped just shy of leaving the room and looked back.  Not
answering Schanke's question, Nick told him, "You'll have to tell
Jenny we're here before tonight and make sure she says nothing."

"She still remembers you being here, Nick.  Whatever Janette did, it
didn't work.  Jenny told us a couple of weeks after you left."

Nick stiffened.  If Jenny was a resistor, then he and LaCroix would
have to watch what they said around her.  "Then make sure she knows of
LaCroix' lack of patience."  Not giving Schanke the opportunity to
respond, Nick returned back to the bedroom.

Schanke sat, his eyes falling on his now cold cup of coffee.  Nick was
in more trouble than he had planned.  Seeing a shadow approaching on
the floor, he looked up to find Myra bringing him another cup of
coffee and slowly shook his head.  "I shouldn't.  I should probably
get to bed in case Nick--"

"Trust me, you'll want it."

"Why?" he asked, taking the mug from her.

"Well, the lock for the back door is broken, so...."

"Broken?  It was fine last night.  How did--"  And then it hit him:
Nick.  "Oh.  Never mind.  Yeah, more coffee would be good."


Downward Spiral - (16/27)

Nick followed LaCroix out of the Toronto Metro area until lights were
fewer and further in-between.  They eventually headed to the ground,
at which LaCroix then started quickly toward a dark house on foot.

Nick closed his eyes, but reopened them after instinctively stepping
closer from hunger.  His attention immediately locked onto the handful
of heartbeats coming from inside--two dogs and a mortal.  In seconds,
he had passed LaCroix.  In a few more seconds, both he and LaCroix
were inside the house.

LaCroix flinched at the state of the home's interior.  The mortal who
lived here either didn't care what others thought of the house or
lived alone and had no reason to care.  LaCroix headed straight to the
mortal, expecting Nick to be right behind him.  He heard the dogs for
mere seconds--first alert and alarmed, then a whimper, more barking,
another whimper, and then nothing.  By then, the mortal was awake and
approaching to investigate.

When a middle-aged woman stepped into the hall, LaCroix snatched her
before she even saw him, biting her on the neck in an instant.  Next
thing he knew, however, he was being pushed back and Nick brutally
started draining the woman.  "Nicholas!" he hissed, but it did nothing
to stop the other.  He hadn't even taken enough blood to kill the
woman, and he was so stunned that Nick had pushed him away that he
barely noticed her heartbeat fade.

LaCroix had stepped back despite his want for blood being more enticed
than satiated.  He let Nick drain her completely, fully aware that his
son needed the blood far more than he.

When Nick dropped the woman, LaCroix slowly shifted to the other side
of the body, his eyes not leaving Nick.  "Nicholas--"

"Don't say a word, LaCroix!" Nick hissed, barring his fangs at the
other and heading out of the house.

LaCroix stiffened, but otherwise didn't react.  Alone in the house, he
did what he could to cover the bite marks, slashing the wounds with a
knife in the woman's kitchen.  Going to the other room, he found the
two dogs, both drained.  He knelt and did the same to their bite
wounds, stabbing the knife into one of the animals.  He paused for a
moment, still somewhat surprised by his son's actions.  He wiped the
handle free of his fingerprints as a precaution, although he suspected
it didn't matter.  She would certainly be found, and a trained eye
would undoubtedly be able to tell it was a vampire...but likely not
bother to find the specific vampire.

Going outside to where his son stood waiting, LaCroix' eyes shifted to
the torn fabric of Nick's jacket arm.  When the other didn't
acknowledge his presence, he teasingly told Nick, "I see you'll need
some new clothes before we head back."

Nick calmed and glanced to his torn sleeve, twisting his arm a bit.
The fabric of both his jacket and shirt were slightly stained with his
blood where the second dog had bit him and hung on.

"Come, Nicholas.  At this rate the night will be half-over before we
return to your mortal friend's home."  LaCroix left, heading toward
the city.

Nick stayed firmly on the ground, not even reacting to the other's
departure.  Despite what he had done, he felt oddly calm.  He knew it
was mainly from having truly fed, for the first time in weeks.  But
would he feel the same when Schanke asked what they had done that
night?  And if Schanke noticed he was stronger, what reason would he
give?  He couldn't say anything.  It was better for Schanke to suspect
whatever he wanted than be told what he and LaCroix actually did.

But first thing was first--he did need new clothes.  And not just
because of the dogs.  He needed new, clean clothes for taping the
questions and answers.  Instinctively stiffening, Nick headed to catch
up with LaCroix.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Sitting at the Schankes' dining table well past midnight, the rest of
the house silent, Nick flipped through the pages of questions without
really looking at them.  He couldn't focus when he knew LaCroix would
be arriving any moment.  And they hadn't yet discussed which questions
they would choose, not even a way to narrow them down.  Right now,
everything was just blurring together, the word 'vampire' the only
thing that seemed to stick in his thoughts.

"Nicholas?"

Nick snapped his attention up to LaCroix, but then slowly started to
relax.  "You took your time," Nick mentioned, looking back down at the
sheets of paper, shuffling them slightly.

"I had to ensure little attention would be drawn."  Watching the other
stiffen, LaCroix continued, "It took time to find a target.  Stray
dogs are not to my taste, but it'll make up for your...enthusiasm
earlier."

Nick didn't look up, merely staring more intently at the pieces of
paper.

"You seem preoccupied."

Leaning back, Nick let out a breath.  "Remember when you woke and I
told you we might have a problem?"  Only pausing until he saw a faint
nod from LaCroix, Nick said, "The news yesterday morning had a photo
of Aristotle and Holly.  No names, just the photo and where they were
seen.  And they knew we were in Los Angeles working with others.
Contacting Aristotle isn't an option.  And Nate and Emily--"

"If Aristotle is being traced, then they are either already discovered
or will be."

"Exactly.  Which means we can't meet with Nate as planned.  We could
end up walking into a trap."  Pushing the rough pile across the table
toward LaCroix, Nick told him, "I guess first we should narrow this
down."

LaCroix nodded.  "An alternate plan can wait until morning, after the
news."  Sitting at the table, LaCroix pulled the top-most paper
closer.  "I see you've already started."

"I...crossed a few of the questions out."

Scanning the pages, LaCroix read off a few of the scribbled out
questions, "'Did you kill Dr. Lambert?  When was the last time you
killed?  Are vampires real?'  Hmm.  Yes, I see they didn't quite
listen, did they?"  LaCroix put the sheets down, muttering, "Are
vampires real?"  He lightly laughed.  "Really...."

Nick pulled several of the pages back, and he and LaCroix worked on
narrowing down the number of questions.  Given that over half of the
pages had more than a dozen curiosities--most of which hadn't yet been
crossed out--they had more than enough to choose from.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Come morning, Nick and LaCroix had done little more than scribble in
the margins short opinions--either 'yes', 'no', 'maybe', or a close
variation.  Few questions had been given an instant 'yes'.

Eventually, Nick dropped his pen on the table, pushed his chair back,
and stood up.  "This isn't working, LaCroix.  Too many are hitting in
the middle."

"Several are repeated...."

"Yes, but we've already added most of those in.  And while we're close
to three from each, if we leave it at three we'll be seen as having a
bias."

"Isn't that the point?" LaCroix snapped, his waning patience showing.

"Yes, it's the point.  But we need to be as unbiased as possible.  We
need to contrast with what's been said about us without lying or
watering it down.  We need to come across as sincerely attempting to
answer, and not avoiding any topics."

"We're not avoid-"

"Yes we are.  Look at the sheets.  Look at the lower ranked questions.
Namely anything that hasn't been starred for inclusion."

Not seeing the point, LaCroix merely glanced at the sheets, absently
noting, "Most of the questions one of us has marked off as being
unsuitable."

"Look at them, LaCroix.  You're knocking off any questions that
elaborate any kind of weakness and I'm avoiding questions that I don't
want to answer.  We are being unintentionally biased.  While it
doesn't seem biased to us, it will to the mortals."  Nick leaned
forward, gathering up the papers and putting them in a neat stack in
the centre of the table.  "I'm going to ask Schanke if he'd mind
helping a bit."

"Unbiased indeed...."

"He's mortal.  He probably has a better gauge of what questions are
best to answer; which ones need to be answered regardless of our
preference."  Nick turned and headed out of the dining area.

"You plan to ask him about facilitating the rest of this."

Nick stopped.  Glancing back, just for a second, he replied,
"Perhaps," and then walked out of sight.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"I've never much liked Enforcers," Aristotle began, making a beeline
for a younger-looking vampire a good head taller than he.  Two others
glared at him, but stayed out of his way when the other motioned for
them not to interfere.  "And while you seem to be overall incompetent
when it comes to the present situation, you have--"

"You will reveal our location by coming here!"

"The mortals have not followed me!  I have taken great care in that
regard."

"You and Nicholas have done more than enough damage."

"Damage?  It's the mortals that are doing the damage.  And you're just
letting them."  Aristotle circled the other, watching his nervousness
just barely surface.  "LaCroix was right.  Your numbers are dwindling
as the mortals hunt you."

"How did you find us?"

"By tailing the Enforcer you had following us!  I wouldn't be
surprised if they were the one that tipped us off to the mortals.  He
apparently lost track of me after this morning's incident and decided
to return here."  Aristotle glanced at one of the others--specifically
the man he had followed--but only for a moment.

"Fine," hissed the vampire Aristotle had initially addressed.  "What
do you want from us?"

"I want to know where Nicholas and LaCroix are.  Did they make it
safely to Toronto?  Do you have someone following them as well?"

The Enforcer broke Aristotle's gaze, turning to one of the others.
"Tell him what he wants to know."  Then, once again meeting
Aristotle's eyes with a golden glare, he added, "And then you will
leave."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Arriving home, Schanke glanced at Nick, who was sitting on the couch
with his head leaned back.  The television was on, although he could
barely hear what was being said.  Seeing Myra across the room,
motioning silently to the kitchen, he gave another look to Nick and
then followed.

Once in the kitchen, Schanke asked, "What's with Nick?  And where's
LaCroix?"

"Well, I think part of it is the news."

"News?  What happened?"

"You know how yesterday they announced they were looking for those
two?"

"Yeah, they wanted to find them.  And those that helped Nick with
this."

"They followed the two to Florida.  They found the girl alone, and
they killed her.  And now they're looking for the man and two others."

Schanke's eyes widened.  The two others, he knew, would be the two who
Nick was going to meet with.

"LaCroix mentioned the 'situation worsening.'  I...overheard them
arguing earlier.  Their voices were hushed, but it was clear they
didn't agree on something."

"Their plan has been completely shot down," Schanke answered in a
whisper.  "I'll go talk to Nick, see what's up," he told Myra, turning
around only to turn back when Myra touched his arm.

"Nick and LaCroix had gone out not long after you left.  While I have
told Jenny they're here, they haven't run into each other yet."

Schanke nodded and headed back to the other room, slowing as he
approached the couch.  Nick hadn't moved from earlier.  Was he asleep
or was he awake?  "Nick?"

"Myra told you," Nick said, his voice soft.  Sitting up, he stated,
"Holly's been killed and Nate and Emily--the two we were to meet with-
-have been traced to Texas, where we planned to leave for."

"Well, I guess you know it's going to change things now."

"Yeah."  Nick hit the power button on the remote, turning the
television off.  Leaning forward, Nick placed the remote on the table
and picked up the pages of questions.  "I have a favour to ask," Nick
started, and then explained the difficulty with the questions.  When
Schanke didn't answer, Nick held the questions out, telling him, "You
certainly don't have to help.  You can refuse right now, and LaCroix
and I will leave tonight."

"No, no, I don't mind helping.  I'm just a bit surprised."  Schanke
snatched the papers before Nick could pull them back.  Glancing at the
top page, which contained several crossed out questions and short
notes in the margin, Schanke asked, "So, what do I need to do?"
Reading the top question, which had been crossed through more than
once from the look of it, Schanke asked, "Why is 'Are vampires real?'
crossed out?  I mean, what has the IVEA done to show that you guys are
real?  And what about 'Do vampires suffer from mental illnesses, for
example depression, anxiety,' er..." Schanke paused, tilting his head
a little to see the words hiding under the slice of ink now residing
over them, then finished, "'delusions, hallucinations, schizophrenia,
etc.?'  That's a pretty good question, isn't it?"

"I believe LaCroix crossed those out," Nick stated, although
technically they had both disagreed with the firs.  He faintly smiled,
realising this was going to take a while.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Shortly before noon, the Schankes' phone rang.  Myra had left to run
several errands and Jenny answered the phone before Schanke had
managed to stand up.

"Hello?"

"I'd like to speak to a Detective Schanke?"

"Dad.... Phone," Jenny said, setting the receiver down and taking
several steps back, but not leaving the room.

Schanke was already on the way, and picked up the phone.  "Hello?" he
asked, slightly distracted when Nick stood.

"Is this Detective Schanke?"

"Ah, yeah."

"Is Nicholas there?"

Schanke tensed at the question, becoming suspicious.  "Who is this?"

"I don't know what Nick has told you, but just listen.  Nathaniel and
Emily have been killed."

"Er, who are you?"

"My name is Aristotle.  I don't know if Nick would have mentioned me
or not."

Schanke simultaneously stiffened and calmed.  "Ah, do you want to talk
to Nick?  He's--"

"No.  The rest of what I have to say is for you.  If Nicholas has not
yet asked for your help or you are hesitant, I ask you to consider
helping him.  Nicholas and LaCroix have not been traced and your
family will be in no danger.  Two of us are watching your house,
discretely, and another has been watching your partner for the last
several weeks.  I will arrive in Toronto in three days' time."

Schanke was about to reply with a question when the other hung up,
leaving him listening to the dial tone.  He put the phone back down
and turned to Nick, who had gone ashen, his eyes closed.  "Nick?"

Jenny slowly inched closer, wondering what had happened and who had
called.  She jumped upon feeling a hand rest on her shoulder and pull
her back.  When she looked up and saw LaCroix, she gasped, stepping
back, only to find she couldn't as LaCroix still had her firmly by the
shoulder.

After giving the girl a glare and small shake of his head, LaCroix
turned his gaze to Nick.  And then, as he had only heard the very last
part of the conversation, only waking upon feeling strong anger from
his son, LaCroix asked Schanke, "What did Aristotle tell you?"

"Ah, well," Schanke fumbled, his attention drifting between the two
vampires, his daughter's faint trembling, and then what he'd just been
told.  "Jenny, go back to your room."

"But--"

"Why not let her stay?" LaCroix asked.  Then, glancing toward Jenny,
he let his eyes glow faintly golden.  "Given her curiosity, I suspect
she'll listen in on the conversation, whatever the case."

Jenny stiffened, trying to shrink back, which LaCroix let her do.  But
she didn't leave--merely backed away.

Giving a glance to Jenny, Schanke finally answered LaCroix, telling
him, "Nathaniel and Emily were killed."

Ever so slightly, LaCroix tensed.  Now he understood his son's
emotions.  He even agreed with them.  But, for now at least, there was
nothing either of them could do other than to continue their plan.
"It will end, Nicholas.  You know how history goes...."

"This is not the Inquisition!  This time it is not just lucky,
fanatical mortals that happened upon us.  These mortals are hunting us
and they seem to know exactly how."

"They are fanatics all the same."  Turning away from Nick, LaCroix
further asked the mortal, "What else did he say?"

Schanke, a bit taken aback by Nick's short tirade, took several
seconds to answer LaCroix, telling him, "Nothing that was directed at
you or Nick.  Well, other than that he would be here in three days, or
nights...whatever it was."

"The rest was Aristotle appealing to Schanke to help us," Nick stated.
Then, he faced away from the others, walking over to the edge of the
window, carefully looking outside.  "Schanke, only help if you truly
want to.  I do believe Aristotle is correct in that you and your
family are in no danger by aiding us."

"What kind of help do you need?"

Turning back, Nick answered, "We need to stay, at least until
Aristotle arrives.  And we'll have to record the tape here."

"We have a video camera, if you need it?"  Getting a nod, Schanke told
them, "I'll pull it out tonight."  Then, suppressing a yawn, he asked,
"So, now what?  We still have those last few--"

"I'll finish that, Schanke.  It's late and you need sleep for work,
right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I work tonight."

Nick leaned over and picked up the pages, each of which now had even
more short comments and crossed out questions and/or comments than
before.  "Seriously, the biggest thing you can do to help is to let us
stay a few more days."

"Yeah, I get it," Schanke said, nodding.  "And I guess that includes
not changing anything that might alert others to your presence.  Which
means that while showing up to work tired wouldn't be a first, it
wouldn't be useful."

Nick forced a faint smile, then took the papers and headed toward the
spare bedroom.  Passing LaCroix, he gave a glance to the other vampire
and paused until LaCroix turned away from the mortals to follow him.


Downward Spiral - (17/27)

"My mom said you needed some paper," Jenny cautiously said, walking up
to Nick with several sheets of paper in hand.

Nick looked up and, when Jenny held the sheets out to him, he took
them.  "Thanks."

Jenny then watched as Nick copied a line off another sheet.  "So, what
are you doing?" she asked, trying to get a glance of the writing on
the papers, but Nick pulled them closer.

"Right now?  Writing out replies," Nick told her, starting to answer
the first question.

Jenny glanced toward the television, which was on with the volume
muted.  She glanced away after seeing the same faces she had seen
earlier, before her dad left for work.  "How old were they?  The three
on the news?  Nothing's been said about them, other than what
happened."

"Fairly young."

"How young?"

"All less than a hundred."  When it was clear Jenny wanted more, he
thought, recalling what Aristotle had said, and told her, "The older
woman was 90, the man 53, and the girl 19."

Jenny's eyes widened.  "Nineteen?  Is that how long she was a
vampire?"

"No.  That's how old she was.  She hadn't been a vampire long.  Not
even a year."

"Can I ask something?  Maybe it's a stupid question, but...."

Nick put down his pen, completely stopping what he was doing.  He saw
Myra approach, probably wondering why Jenny was still there.

"Did you want this?  I mean, did you know you were going to be a
vampire?  Did you get the choice, knowing exactly--"

"No," Nick quickly answered, then paused before explaining, "No, I
didn't know, not precisely.  I had...suspicions when I met LaCroix,
when I had the choice, but I had little time to realise exactly what
he was or what I would become, or what the consequences would be.  I
didn't know exactly what I was agreeing to."

"Then why?"

"Jenny, I think we should let Nick work," Myra abruptly interrupted,
starting forward.

"No, it's okay.  I don't mind answering."  Nick directed a partial
smile toward Myra, although quickly looked away from them both.
"Temptation.  The promise of immortality."

"Would you have refused, if you knew you'd become a vampire?"

Nick's eyes fell to the table in front of him, thinking.  "No," he
simply answered.

"Glad to hear that, Nicholas," LaCroix voiced, causing Jenny to jump
slightly and Myra to stiffen.

Nick merely looked up and over to LaCroix, not replying.

"Come, Jenny," said Myra, watching as Jenny hesitated a moment before
following her into the kitchen.

Once alone, LaCroix approached the couch, still pleased.  "Curious,
isn't she?"

"I don't mind."

LaCroix scoffed.  "You mind, Nicholas.  I heard it in the hesitation
of your answers."  Sitting next to Nick, he picked up one of the
sheets, noticing many changes had been made from when he and Nicholas
had worked on it the night before.  "I see the questions have been
narrowed down."

"Schanke helped with that."  Nick split the paper Jenny had brought
into two smaller stacks and passed one to LaCroix, next pushing a
sheet of the questions toward him.

"Nicholas, I--"

Nick glared at LaCroix, telling him, "Do you really want to watch me
do this all night?"

LaCroix resisted the urge to tease the other with a 'maybe' and merely
lightly smiled.  "Very well.  Now, let's see...." LaCroix started,
finding the first question on the page that was to be answered.  "'Do
vampires live productive lives?'  Well, I suppose that depends--"
LaCroix began, mockingly, but stopped the instant the paper was
snatched out of his hands.

"You don't have to help."

LaCroix seized the sheet, his eyes ever so faintly glowing.

Nick met the other's gaze for a second, but eventually looked away.
"Fine," Nick snapped, picking up his pen and starting where he left
off earlier.

The hostility made LaCroix pause a moment before he picked up the
spare pen on the table, the blank paper, and a large, hardcover
cookbook that sat under several of the sheets.  Moving to a nearby
recliner, LaCroix leaned back and cast a glance toward Nick, who
seemed oddly uncomfortable, as if nervous.  It was something that he
had noticed in Nick since they arrived there, and it was not passing.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

That morning, as Schanke came home and discovered his home silent, he
wondered for a second if Nick and LaCroix had perhaps left.  And then
he saw all of the pages on the coffee table, this time with answers
neatly written out.

Approaching, he sat on the couch and pulled one of the pages closer,
faintly surprised that the writing wasn't Nick's.  Curious, he started
reading at the top of the page:

"Do vampires live productive lives?
Most of us do, although it varies by the individual and what one
considers 'productive'.  We make use of our time and many of us
contribute to mortal society in the process.  We occupy our lives much
as mortals do with hobbies and interests.  Most of us have jobs or own
property; as such we pay taxes."

Schanke paused a second, before reading the second paragraph:

"Do vampires regularly kill for blood, as has been suggested?
Not regularly, nor do we need to kill for it.  We generally drink
bottled blood, most of which is freely donated."

Schanke would have continued, but he stopped mid-paragraph when he saw
movement across the room.  Looking up, he saw Nick slowly approaching,
dishevelled and half-awake.  "Nick?  You look like you should be
asleep."

"I was."

"But?"

"But now I'm not."  Nick walked up to the table and picked several
sheets up, glancing at each one to put them in order.  "I think we
might as well get this done with."

"So, LaCroix...?"

"Yeah, he's awake."

Schanke watched Nick turn and head back toward the hall.  "What do you
want me to do?"

Pausing and looking back, Nick replied, "Other than to get the video
camera, nothing."

"Nick, I can--"

"I don't want you involved in this any more than you already are."
Nick didn't give the other a chance to respond, continuing on his path
back to the spare room.

Schanke stayed put for over a minute before he finally stood and went
to get the video camera, a new tape, and the extra battery.  He
hesitated a moment before taking them to Nick, pausing once again at
the shut door before knocking.

When he got no response after two attempts at getting Nick's
attention, Schanke turned the knob and pushed the door open.  "Nick?"
he said, cautiously entering.  "I've got--" Schanke started, but he
then tensed as LaCroix practically appeared right in front of him.
Doing what he could to ignore the vampire, Schanke took another step
into the room and spotted Nick sitting on the bed, buttoning up what
looked like a new shirt.  "I have the camera here," he said, just as
LaCroix held out a hand for it.  Nick didn't move, and Schanke felt
like the room just got smaller.  Or maybe LaCroix just got closer?
With a slight delay upon realising Nick didn't want to talk, Schanke
addressed LaCroix, telling him, "And, ah, here's an extra battery and
a new tape.  I think there's another unused tape somewhere.  If you
need it, just ask.  And we have blank VHS tapes, too."

LaCroix waited for the mortal to leave, his patience quickly fading.
"Is there something else?"

"No.  No, I guess not."  Schanke looked to Nick, who quickly turned
his gaze away and to the ground.  Primarily to Nick, Schanke
mentioned, "If you need anything else, just ask."  Then, with a glance
to LaCroix, he left the two vampires to set up however they wanted.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Nick read through a piece of paper--written mere moments before.
About the time they realised a tripod would be useful, he had realised
they also didn't have an introduction.  While LaCroix didn't think it
was needed, Nick knew they should say something.  Writing an
introduction had given LaCroix time to take a shower, and then, since
he still hadn't finished writing, it meant LaCroix was the one that
had to ask if Schanke had a tripod.

Hearing LaCroix enter the room, Nick looked up to find LaCroix
carrying a tripod.  Nearly speaking, he hesitated upon seeing Schanke
following, bringing a chair from the kitchen.

"Where do you want this?" Schanke asked.  Then, seeing that one of the
pictures hanging along one wall had been taken down, leaving a nearly
blank background, he started in that direction and asked, "Over here?"
Looking to Nick and seeing the other nod, he sat the chair down and
then turned back toward Nick and LaCroix.  To the latter, who seemed
ill at ease holding the tripod, Schanke asked, "You want me to set
that thing up?" and immediately started forward.

LaCroix stiffened, but allowed the mortal to take the tripod.  While
he didn't particularly like Schanke's enthusiasm, he was far more
interested in seeing what Nick had written than setting the tripod up.
However, when he tried to see the paper, Nick moved it and the others
out of his reach.  "Nicholas--"

"You didn't want any kind of introduction, and I doubt you'd want to
read it for the recording."  Nick tucked in his shirt and stood,
walking over to the chair.

LaCroix waited as Schanke set the camera up as well, wanting to get
the mortal out of the room as soon as possible.

Turning the camera on, Schanke caught a glare from LaCroix, which made
him take a step back and mutter, "It should be ready."

LaCroix stood still, waiting for the other to leave.  But Schanke made
no move to budge.  "I don't think we'll need any...help."

"I'd like to stay, if that's all right?"  Seeing LaCroix' disapproval,
Schanke turned to Nick only to see the same expression.  "I'll be
completely silent.  Won't say a thing.  Won't interrupt.  No
questions.  You won't know I'm here.  Nada.  Nothing.  I--"

"Schanke...." Nick started, watching the other's motions freeze solid.
"You can stay, but only by the door."

Schanke relaxed, nodding.

"You need to be out of both mine and the camera's sight.  I don't want
this somehow traced back to you."

"So...."

"If you stand just behind the door, I think you'll be okay," Nick told
Schanke, managing a smile.  "But you must be silent."  Once Schanke
nodded and moved out of sight, Nick looked to LaCroix and nodded.

LaCroix fiddled with the camera, turned it to the right, and then
zoomed in on Nick slightly to get the other centred.  When Nick stared
fully into the camera, LaCroix hit record.

"First, you might be wondering why we--vampires--have taken as long as
we have to respond.  We are real; we live and yes, we do die.  Imagine
being hunted for every waking moment with the threat of death looming
over everything you hold dear.  To show ourselves is suicide,
especially as we are being killed simply for what we are."

Nick glanced down, just for a second, and then continued, "The
questions I will answer were gathered from everyday people, from, as
you have by now heard, the employees of a news station in Detroit,
Michigan.  And I'll say right now that the answers you hear will be
truthful."

Pausing, Nick slid the first page away, took a quick look at the first
question and said, "First question: Do you really have glowing eyes
and fangs?"  Leaving a couple of seconds of silence, Nick answered,
"Not usually.  Right now, no."  Nick closed his eyes, his head
slightly bowed, then looked into the camera with golden eyes and said
with a slight hiss, "But we can and do change."  Closing his eyes for
another moment, when Nick again looked at the camera all signs of
being a vampire had faded.  "Unless you threaten us with crosses,
garlic, stakes or otherwise anger us, you have little to fear."

"The next question asks: Are the characteristics that the IVEA have
mentioned accurate?  Is there more?  And the answer is yes; our
abilities and weaknesses have been described well.  And no, there
isn't more.  We can fly and we have the ability to bend the will of
mortals.  Garlic, holy water, and crosses do harm us.  The degree of
the affect varies depending on the situation."

Nick glanced down to the sheet, skipping over a crossed-out portion of
the paper, which only added to his hesitation upon seeing the
question.  He knew there wasn't a good answer for this one.  "And
mirrors?  Vampires cannot be fully defined by science.  I can say that
I have both seen and not seen my reflection.  It might be similar for
others, and it might not."

Switching to another page, one LaCroix had written out answers for,
Nick read, "Do vampires suffer from mental illnesses?"  Then, he
froze.  He knew LaCroix hadn't liked that question before, likely
because many vampires would be considered, in some manner or another,
psychologically unstable.  "Probably," Nick eventually spoke, then his
words stumbled over, "But vampires are different than mortals."  Nick
flat-out stopped, his eyes leaving the camera.  "This isn't an
answer."  Addressing LaCroix, Nick commented, "A mortal psychiatrist
would label us mad, LaCroix."

Almost lazily, LaCroix stopped the recording.  "What was I supposed to
write?  That question--"

"Could have been answered with something better than, 'But vampires
are different than mortals.'  Besides, we're not that different."

Schanke shifted uncomfortably, feeling out of place listening in on an
argument between the two men.  Stepping into the room when the two
stopped talking, he quietly remarked, "I guess I should go."

Nick turned toward Schanke, but didn't respond.

Glancing between Nick and LaCroix, Schanke left the room, pulling the
door shut behind him.

LaCroix watched as Nick pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote on
the paper, seemingly unaffected by Schanke's departure.  In fact, the
other seemed more relaxed.  "Perhaps we should do this later," LaCroix
suggested.

"No.  No, we might as well get this done with."

"Perhaps to leave here sooner?"

Nick looked up, answering, "Yes."

"You genuinely only wanted to come here because it was the safest
place."  LaCroix waited, expecting the other to either refute the
statement or otherwise answer, but Nick stayed silent.  "I'm
surprised."  Again, he received no comment.  "Nicholas--"

"I didn't want to involve Schanke again," Nick hissed.  "Nor did I
truly want to return to Toronto so soon, considering."

"Natalie," LaCroix whispered, watching Nick tense at the name.

"I don't want anyone else harmed because of me, LaCroix.  I want this
tape recorded before Aristotle gets here so we can leave immediately."

"And if he gets here at or after dawn?"

"We leave."  Nick turned away.  "With the others being found, it's too
dangerous to stay here any longer than necessary.  We make the
recording, make copies, and then as soon as Aristotle gets here we
split up."

LaCroix silently nodded and rewound the tape to the beginning, at
which he made eye contact with Nick.

Forcing himself to relax, Nick shifted and focused back on the camera.
"Again, LaCroix."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Late that night after Schanke had gone to work and Jenny to bed, Myra
watched as Nick paced in the living room.  She had already asked
multiple times if either he or LaCroix wanted anything, and every time
the offer had been turned down.  Nick was getting impatient, and she
could see that LaCroix was either becoming agitated by it or he, too,
was also losing patience.

Myra headed into the kitchen and to the refrigerator to get a glass of
milk, only to jump upon hearing a knock against the back door.  She
paused a second, her hand on the refrigerator door, then went to the
back door, but hesitated.

"Open it," Nick said, approaching.  "It's one of us."

Myra tensed slightly knowing that a vampire stood waiting, but she did
open the door.  After all, neither Nick nor LaCroix had done nothing
to harm them and if Nick knew who was there....  She stepped back upon
revealing a middle-aged, balding, glasses-wearing man.  She
immediately recognised him as the other vampire the IVEA were looking
for, but seeing him in person was much different.  To her, he didn't
look at all like a vampire.

Aristotle gave a very slight nod to the mortal woman, then entered,
bypassing her and going to Nick.  "I apologise for being a bit early. 
I hadn't planned on coming until tomorrow night, but--"

"That's fine.  We've had enough time."

Surprised, Aristotle asked, "You have everything done?  Recording
done, copies made?"

"Yes.  And we're ready to leave."

Aristotle opened his mouth to speak, but Nick had already turned and
left, going down the hall.  When LaCroix came into the kitchen a
moment later, he asked, "Is Nicholas all right?  I know he agreed to
do this somewhat reluctantly."

"Nicholas is fine.  He does, however, wish to get the tapes
delivered."

Nodding, Aristotle agreed, "Yes, until the mortals see the tape and
hopefully form a favourable reaction, we are no better off."

Nick returned with his and LaCroix' things and six copies of the tape.
He handed two of the tapes to Aristotle and all but his jacket to
LaCroix.  Glancing to Myra, he pulled on his jacket and pulled out
several large bills, placing it on the kitchen counter.  "It's not all
Canadian, but it should cover the lock and the time we've
inconvenienced you."  Nick then took his things and two of the tapes
from LaCroix, not meeting Myra's gaze.

"Nick--" Myra started, but Nick had already walked to the door and
pulled it open.  He was gone before she could get out another word.

Aristotle gave the mortal another nod and then he, too, left.

LaCroix remained a moment and told Myra, "Nicholas will not accept the
money back.  If you don't wish to accept it for allowing us to stay
here, perhaps take something to Natalie's grave?  I believe he
would...appreciate that."  He turned and walked toward the door.

"Will either of you be back?"

Pausing for a moment, LaCroix answered, "No," and then left.


Downward Spiral - (18/27)

Nearly thirty-six hours after leaving Schanke's, Nick and LaCroix met
in Baltimore, Maryland.  They had each delivered two tapes to
different cities during the night.  Aristotle had, as they departed
from Schanke's, mentioned he planned to keep out of sight until things
had calmed and wouldn't be meeting them.

Nick had arrived at the hotel several hours after LaCroix and entered
the room only to find the other taking a shower.  Slowly, Nick walked
over to where LaCroix had set down the bag containing his extra
clothes, only to spot the television remote upside down on the centre
of the bed.  Clearly, LaCroix had already checked the news.

Hesitating, Nick picked the remote up and hit the power button.
First, it popped up on the generic hotel information screen, but after
nudging the channel up a couple times he came to a news report.  It
was different than previous newscasts in that both a third party
recording was being shown--the one he and LaCroix had made--but that
it was apparently a recording itself, from another news channel.

"--vampires enjoy killing?  In some ways, yes.  Killing, hunting in a
way, was first and foremost a necessity.  It is instinctual, and yes,
can be rather enjoyable.  However, as has been said it is no longer
necessary to kill.  And even when necessary, other emotions generally
accompany any pleasure we might get from the action."

Nick involuntarily cringed back, wondering just how all of this would
be taken, but slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Can't vampires just drink animal blood?  Do some?  It is possible to
survive off of the blood of animals, much as a mortal could probably
live off of canned cat food.  Few vampires will drink animal's blood
unless necessary as it is not pleasant to drink, and it is neither
what we want nor need.  Even those that attempt it often cannot avoid
occasionally drinking human blood, and most don't try again.  There
are some vampires that do live entirely off animal blood with no
desire for human blood, but you are unlikely to ever have a
conversation with them or meet one."

After a short pause, the Nick on the screen smiled somewhat wistfully
as he said, "Can vampires eat or drink anything other than blood?  A
small amount of water or alcohol is usually drinkable, but any other
food or drink is nearly impossible to eat, even if forced.  Water is
unnecessary to us, and is rarely drunk.  Alcohol has a similar
although greatly dimmed effect on vampires as it does on mortals, and
most of us avoid it except on rare occasions, and then it is usually
mixed with blood."

The faint half-smile returning, he continued, "And, finally; have you
ever met anyone famous?  The answer, at least for myself, is yes.  Did
I know they'd become as known as they are now?  No.  Perhaps
recognised uniqueness, but never realised the full implications.  Many
of us have touched history, either people or events; but rarely do we
dare take part."

Another pause, and Nick's gaze became more serious.  "We ask only that
you form your own opinions of us, not from myth or an outside source,
but from who we are.  Don't kill us for what we are."

The interview ended and the news switched back to the anchor, who
spoke, "While the interview was somewhat unexpected, it paints a more
complete, overall view of vampires.  The IVEA has yet to give a
reaction to the taped interview.  The IVEA is also declining questions
from the FBI and other federal agencies; however, less than an hour
ago the FBI and Interpol demanded access to IVEA files and a
suspension has been put in place on all IVEA actions."

"Good, yes?" LaCroix said, entering the room fresh from his shower.

Nick glanced toward LaCroix and then flipped the television off,
saying, "If it lasts."

"Uncertainty, Nicholas?"

Nick shook his head, snapping, "It's been mere hours, LaCroix!  That's
all the time they've had to react.  It's too soon to know what,
exactly, is happening or will happen."

For a moment, LaCroix merely stood in place.  After a few seconds,
however, he nodded, telling the other, "Yes, we will have to wait."
Then, with a slight smirk he added, "But waiting can be fun, yes?"

Nick absently nodded as LaCroix turned and went back into the
bathroom.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"All operations of the IVEA are still suspended.  The FBI and Interpol
are deepening their investigation into IVEA records, and several IVEA
agents are being detained for questioning.  When asked why, the only
response was that the increased involvement was due to receiving more
information from an undisclosed source.  No answer was given when
asked if this source was from within their organisation or an outside
informant, nor was an answer given when asked if they had been somehow
contacted by a vampire, or--"

LaCroix flipped the television off.  Glancing to Nick, who sat at a
table by the room's window, he watched the other turn away.  "You know
something about this.  They did get the information from one of us."
Standing and approaching Nick, LaCroix sensed that he was right.
"What information did they get?"

"Names and locations."

LaCroix' eyes glowed golden.  "Nicholas--"

"Aristotle sent it.  It's not a complete list of those that have died,
but it is far more complete than what any mortals outside the IVEA are
aware of."

"And what difference would that make?"

"It also contains the names of mortals that have died in the process."

"The lists Janette told me about."

"Yes."

"Dangerous in the hands of a mortal."

"How, LaCroix?  Those of us that are still alive are alive because we
haven't been traced.  I'm sure the IVEA is aware of all those that
have died; it won't be new information to them."

LaCroix looked away.  His son was right in that they were in no more
danger now than they were before.  "It is nearly sunset," he quickly
commented.  "We must feed and then leave here."

"I'm fine."

"You are hungry; I can feel it."  LaCroix smirked and then asked,
"Would you rather merely feed from a mortal, or kill them as well?  In
a few days...."

Nick stiffened but nodded, aware that if they waited they would indeed
need to kill.  Nodding, Nick reached across the table to his jacket
and pulled it closer, his badge slipping out of a pocket.

"Nicholas...."

As soon as he had the jacket on, Nick snatched his badge off the table
and put it back.  "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Leave it."

"I've considered it..."  Nick shook his head, finishing, "But no."
Taking a step back, Nick pushed the drapes to the side for the last
bits of daylight to slide by.  "It's fine, and the sun has nearly set.
If you want to leave, I suggest we get ready to do so."  Nick released
the thick fabric, letting it swing back over the window, and then he
walked past LaCroix to gather his other set of clothes.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

[Early September, 1995]

Nearly a month later, LaCroix flew after Nick, who had abruptly
changed directions.  As they landed in an alley, LaCroix hissed,
"Nicholas!"

"Shh, LaCroix," Nick said as he reached toward a door that wasn't
quite closed.

LaCroix reached out and grabbed Nick's arm, pulling the other back
into a shadow as the door opened, letting several mortals out.  Once
they had left, LaCroix whispered, "This is dangerous.  We are not in
the mortals' favour, Nicholas.  The IVEA may have been disbanded, but
we both know that they're still hunting us, perhaps even more so."

"All we need do is stay out of sight," Nick replied and then started
for the door again, only to be held back.  "LaCroix--"

"We cannot risk hunting--"

"This isn't about hunting" Nick hissed.  "I'm just...I'm tired of
hiding; tired of avoiding them.  Even if we're seen, they can do
nothing."

LaCroix closed his eyes, nodding to himself.  "For a few minutes,
Nicholas," he said, releasing the younger.

"You're not coming in?"

"No.  No, you'll be less likely noticed alone."  LaCroix faintly
smiled, then flew straight up to the roof.

Nick remained in place, but darted out of sight as the door opened
again, emitting another mortal.  As it swung closed, Nick quickly
snuck inside, slipping from shadow to shadow until he had a full view
of the room: a dance club and bar, with what looked like an entrance
opposite him.

For nearly a quarter of an hour, he just watched them.  He wished he
could close his eyes, but he didn't dare in case someone spotted him. 
He could only watch.  And while better than the boredom that was
beginning to overcome both himself and LaCroix, Nick missed
interacting with mortals and suspected that on some level LaCroix did
as well.

Suddenly Nick's focus lapsed as a man roughly brushed shoulders with
him, and his eyes immediately locked with the young man's widening
gaze.

"You're--"

"*I'm not who you think I am,*" Nick quickly intoned, keeping his
voice even and friendly.  "*You won't remember this.*"

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the young man apologised for
bumping into Nick and then left as if nothing had happened.

Nick moved, stepping to the side until he was able to see the bar more
easily.  Almost instantly, his eyes locked on a young redheaded woman
sitting at the bar drinking a martini.  She looked vaguely familiar,
but he couldn't place her.  About to step closer, he instead took a
step back as she looked his way.

Nick watched her gaze pass over where he stood, and it hit him that he
had seen her on the news.  Specifically, in the days after Natalie had
been killed, while he was at the Schankes'.  She had worked for the
IVEA, and her manner told him she was still hunting his kind.

He closed his eyes to hide their golden hue, opening them when he
heard a phone ring to find the woman answering her cell phone.  Nick
backed up, trying to disappear completely into a shadow, and listened.
His anger latched onto only the most relevant information;
specifically that she was, indeed, a hunter and that she was being
called to Denver.

Nick's gaze followed her as she tipped the bartender, stood, and then
headed for the exit.  Taking a couple glances, Nick took in a deep
breath and headed out himself as discreetly as possible.  As soon as
he reached the street Nick started following her as she headed down
the street, walking from shadow to shadow.

Suddenly, Nick felt a hand on his shoulder: LaCroix.

"I thought you said this wasn't about hunting, Nicholas...."

"It wasn't," Nick said, glancing back toward the other for a second.

Seeing Nick's eyes flash a bright gold, LaCroix asked, "But it is now,
yes?"

"Yes."  Nick pulled free from LaCroix' grip, but took only a single
step forward.  "She's a hunter," Nick stated, and then flew up to the
level of the surrounding building's roofs.

LaCroix hesitated a moment before following Nick, and then they flew
ahead of the woman to a small cross street.

As the mortal turned a corner, Nick landed in her path, his eyes still
golden.

"You!" she said, clearly recognising Nick.  "You are a vile and--"

Landing behind the woman, LaCroix covered her mouth and whispered
harshly into her ear, "And you have said enough."  He flew up, taking
the mortal with him.

They left the street empty, and LaCroix flew the woman to a darker
section of the city, landing on the roof of an unoccupied warehouse.

Nick landed behind LaCroix, simply whispering, "Let go of her."

LaCroix did so, taking a step to the side of the woman so that she
could still see him from the side.

"I want to know why," Nick hissed, slowly approaching the mortal.

"Why do you have to ask?  You are what you are.  Cold-blooded killers;
nothing more."

"Why do you hunt us?"

"The IVEA offered me a job and I took it."

"The IVEA has been dismantled."

"Officially."  She smiled, adding, "But we aren't giving up."

"But why?"

"I've stated that; your kind are killers."

Nick turned away, stating, "You blindly believed what they told you."

"Not blindly."

LaCroix breathed out, his patience waning.  "Nicholas, this is
useless."

"No, it's not useless," Nick said, spinning back.  Barring his fangs,
he smiled faintly.  "It means I won't care what happens to her."

"Your kind don't care," the woman half-yelled, only for Nick to reach
out and take her by the neck.  

Seeing the woman reach for her pocket, LaCroix stopped her.  Inside
the mortal's pocket, he found only a cell phone.  While she had
managed to turn it on, she had not made a call.  "Foolish."  Then, he
watched her go for her other pocket.  Before LaCroix reached her, she
had stabbed Nick in the arm with a syringe, but he did manage to
prevent her from injecting the liquid.  "Even more so," he hissed,
pulling the woman back.

Nick removed the syringe, throwing it to the ground in anger.  Again,
Nick's hand snapped out toward her neck, but this time he forced her
to step back as he spoke, "You're the one that doesn't care."
Listening to her heart beat calmly despite her situation, his voice
lowered and he slowly spoke, "You don't even care that you're about to
die."  When the woman merely smirked back at him, Nick roughly turned
her in his grasp and sank his fangs into her neck.

LaCroix watched with fascination and a hint of hunger.  He nearly
pulled the woman free of his son and took what remained of her blood,
but knew his son needed and wanted this.  He instead closed his eyes
and waited, feeling Nick's pleasure at draining this mortal's life
away.  It pleased him greatly, as he felt no guilt from Nick, even as
her heart stopped and his son eventually released her.  LaCroix took a
tentative step forward, knowing that they would now have to leave this
city before sunrise.

Not looking up to LaCroix, Nick said, "Go.  I'll meet you in
Sacramento."  When LaCroix approached him, seemingly concerned, Nick
repeated, "Go, LaCroix.  I'll find you after I take care of this."

Hearing the certain, even tone from the other, LaCroix nodded and
left.

Laying the woman on the roof, Nick reached into his jacket pocket and
pulled out his razor, flipping it open.  He hesitated, almost putting
the blade away as he knew it would do little good.  Leaning over, he
sliced the wounds, obscuring the puncture marks.  Blood clung to the
blade, just enough to make his anger flare a bit more as he licked the
metal clean before putting it back in his pocket.

Still, his primary emotion was hatred, although he now felt a growing
hint of satisfaction.  Nick found the syringe cap in the woman's
jacket and, picking up the syringe recapped it.  Then, putting the
syringe in the pocket that had his razor in it, he picked the woman up
and flew off to get rid of her body.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

"I was beginning to worry," LaCroix said that morning as Nick arrived
at the empty house he had picked out for the day.

"Are you certain this house is uninhabited?"

"You did see the sale sign out front, yes?  And notice the lack of
furniture?"

"And the lack of drapes and blinds?" Nick mentioned, nodding to the
sheer curtains.

"One of the back rooms has adequate window coverings."  Pausing,
LaCroix asked, "You took your time getting here, Nicholas."

"And?" Nick asked, turning back.

LaCroix inwardly flinched, feeling that his son knew exactly why he
was asking.  "You have not been yourself lately."

"You don't know me, LaCroix.  You never have."

"You've killed more in the past few weeks than you have in decades,"
LaCroix hissed.

"You don't care."

At that, LaCroix flew at Nick and shoved him toward the corner only
for Nick to use his own momentum to switch places with him.  Slamming
into the corner, LaCroix snarled out of instinct.  Trying again, this
time LaCroix managed to pin Nick against a wall just long enough to
calmly state, "Apparently I know you better than you know me."

Nick shrugged away from LaCroix just as the other's grip loosened,
purposely averting his gaze.

"Nicholas--"

"I'm not coming back to you, if that's what you think is happening.
Frankly, I'm not sure how I feel about tonight."

"I have yet to feel any...guilt from you," LaCroix carefully prodded. 
"I'm a bit surprised."

"So am I."  Nick started away, but felt LaCroix' hand on his arm.
"LaCroix, I--"

"We should rest."  LaCroix gently pulled Nick toward the hall, but the
other didn't move.

Taking a step back, Nick walked over to the window, looking through
the sheer fabric to the brightening morning sky.  As soon as the sun
rose mere minutes later, Nick first stood out of the way of the near-
direct sunlight, and then turned and headed down the hall to LaCroix,
dreading what the other would say.

Watching Nick glance into one of the other rooms, LaCroix commented,
"The woman is still occupying your thoughts."

"No," Nick quickly stated, stopping as he turned to fully face
LaCroix.

"No?  Surely she is the source of the hatred I feel?"

"I've felt it for a long time, LaCroix."

"Yes, but this hunter's blood has managed to release it.  You feel
better, yes?"

Nick looked away, answering, "Yes."

"Good," LaCroix said as he slowly approached Nick and gently urged the
other forward with a hand on the younger man's back.  "Perhaps we
should hunt more of these hunters?"

Looking to LaCroix, Nick simply answered, "Perhaps," and then allowed
LaCroix to guide him forward.  Nick halted just inside the door,
however, commenting, "I'm tired of running."

"If we hunt them, Nicholas, then--"

"Then we will be running both after them and away from them.  The last
few weeks we've barely stayed anywhere long enough to do anything.
We've slept in run-down hotels, old houses, barns...."

"Hmm, yes.  Perhaps later, then?"  Not getting an answer, LaCroix
suggested, "And perhaps we could--"

"Let's just go to sleep, LaCroix."

LaCroix reached out to Nick as he turned away, resting a hand on the
younger man's shoulder just long enough to give his son a nod of
agreement.


Downward Spiral - (19/27)

A week and a half and four moves later, Nick awoke in the middle of
the day to a piercing feeling in his back.  Instantly, he discovered
that he had little control over his muscles.  Being pulled easily back
and off of the bed, he could see that LaCroix was in the same
situation as he--disoriented and extremely weakened by whatever they
had been given.

LaCroix fought the two mortals that had grabbed him, but could neither
shake them off nor even grasp the sheets on the bed as he was pulled
back and onto the floor.  He tried to fly free, but he could do
nothing but let them pull him back to the wall where they held him in
place.  Unable to stand and feeling himself weaken further, LaCroix
had no choice but unwillingly watch the others take his son.

When Nick attempted to break free of the two men dragging him, he was
forced to his knees and his head pulled back.  When the man behind him
then tried to force his mouth open, Nick tried to bite the man's hand
but only managed a few drops of his blood as his fangs contacted skin.
And then, after the faint distraction of the scent fresh blood, he
felt a cool liquid flow into his mouth--blood.  The blood wasn't
fresh, and while still sweet he tasted a hint of bitterness.  He tried
to ignore the blood but, between instinct and need, he swallowed.

Nick heard a mocking approval from the mortals along with LaCroix'
barely coherent anger.  He tried turning and got a glimpse of LaCroix
as a metal rod stabbed through LaCroix' shoulder and into the wall
behind him before his head was forced back.

Nearly choking on the blood, Nick felt his surroundings dulling.  He
felt sick, a dull ache coming from his stomach.  And then, in a panic,
the mortals left, at which Nick saw flashing lights outside the hotel
room's window.  He fell to his hands and knees, head drooping down,
drops of blood dripping to the carpet.

They had to get out, but he couldn't stand up let alone free LaCroix. 
He couldn't even lick away the blood that clung to his lips or swallow
what remained in his mouth.

"Nicholas?" LaCroix spoke, watching as the other shook slightly.
Before he could say anything more, however, several mortals entered
the room.  Two were uniformed police and the other two had their
badges visible, clipped to their belts.  All had their weapons drawn
and had immediately aimed at them.

One of the men nodded to the two uniformed officers, telling them,
"Go, maybe we'll get lucky."

LaCroix softly laughed as two of the mortals left.  "They left a good
minute before you got here."

"We know; we have other officers in pursuit," the man spoke again,
keeping his gun pointed at LaCroix.  Although the vampire appeared to
have been skewered with three feet of metal, the calmness of the
other's statement kept him back.  "I'm Detective Mark Bryant, Austin
P.D., and this is my partner Sean Metzger."

The second mortal, Metzger, cautiously stepped toward Nick during his
partner's introduction, suspecting something was wrong.

Nick scooted slowly away from the approaching mortal, half-crawling
and half-dragging himself back.  Eventually, he fell to the floor to
lie on his side, his energy depleted.

Seeing Nick's weakness, Metzger lowered his weapon and turned toward
LaCroix.  "What happened in here?  What happened to him?"

"First, free me."

Metzger stiffened, but getting a hesitant nod from his partner,
approached LaCroix.  He gripped the metal rod, pausing several
seconds, even regripping the rod before yanking it out of the wall.
He had expected a scream, but the vampire made no noise.  Metzger
dropped the rod and then reached forward toward LaCroix, but backed
off when LaCroix growled at him.  He returned his attention to Nick,
who was just barely consciousness.

"Now, what happened?" Bryant demanded, keeping his gun aimed on
LaCroix.

Metzger went back to Nick and knelt.  He was surprised when the
vampire simply lay still, eyes open, staring at him.  When Nick's eyes
slid shut, he reached forward and touched him on the arm, but he got
no reaction.  Shaking the other slightly, Metzger watched Nick's head
fall to the side.  "He's completely out."

"What's wrong with him?" Bryant asked LaCroix, nodding toward the
other vampire as his partner stood up.

Between blood loss and the effects of the tranquilliser, LaCroix shook
his head slightly to clear his thoughts.  "Why would you care?" he
hissed as he fell sideways, so that he was now sitting, leaning
against the wall.  In seconds, LaCroix felt consciousness fading, and
he unwillingly closed his eyes.

Bryant kept his gun trained on LaCroix until the vampire had slid
fully to the floor.  "Damn, this is all we need."

The two officers returned to the room, at which Metzger told them,
"Keep any onlookers away.  Don't give even a hint at what's going on."

Putting his gun away, Bryant turned toward his partner.  "I'll call
the Captain, let him know what happened and that we're going to need a
van down here."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

LaCroix woke and quickly sat up, his eyes flashing golden at the
mortal woman that had been leaning over him.

The woman backed up, hand still clutching a stethoscope for a moment,
and then she quickly lowered it, letting it hang around her neck.  "I-
-"

"Back off, Diane," Bryant said, pulling the woman back by the
shoulders.

LaCroix glanced around the room and quickly determined that this was
neither the hotel they had been staying at--nor a hotel at all.  He
shifted, so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.  "Where am I?"

"It's a safe-house."  Stepping forward, Bryant then asked, "What
happened before we arrived?"

"Where is Nicholas?"

"He's here.  And if you tell Dr. Reed what happened, she can try to
help him."

LaCroix stood, his eyes darting to the door.  Closing his eyes to
focus more easily, he immediately sensed that Nick was still
unconscious.  Other than that, he felt nothing.  Giving a glance to
the woman, he told her, "In addition to the tranquilliser we were
given, Nicholas was force-fed a fair amount of blood."  He looked away
and toward the door.  "It was likely poisoned."

"He didn't keep it down," Diane answered, stepping in front of the
detective.  "The poison--"

"Is likely the culprit."

"You know what he's been given?" Bryant asked.

"No."

"But you've seen its effects," Diane stated.

"And felt."  LaCroix headed toward the door, and when the detective
got in his way, he hissed, "Now, take me to him."

Diane walked around Bryant and to the door, pulling it open.  "He's in
the next room," she said, walking into the hall.

LaCroix glared at the detective as he followed the doctor out of the
room, past a nervous uniformed officer, and to the next room.  He
followed the woman inside, watching the other detective he had seen
before stand in surprise.  But his attention quickly turned to the
bed, where Nick lay motionless and pale.

"I honestly don't know much about your kind to tell how he is doing.
Well, anything, really..." Diane started as she stood off to the side
and watched the vampire pass.  "I mean, I don't know what's normal for
vampires.  He's stable, but...."

Approaching Nick, LaCroix leaned over the younger vampire, touching
the back of his hand to Nick's face.  "He is very weak," LaCroix
whispered.

"What can we--"

"He needs blood," LaCroix interrupted.  He reached into his pockets,
but found they were empty.  The mortals had apparently confiscated
their belongings.  Focusing on the mortal woman, he stated, "Get me a
knife," as he turned back to Nick.

Metzger approached, pulling out a pocketknife and handing it slowly to
LaCroix.

Taking it without a word, LaCroix sliced both Nick's palm and his own,
causing the mortals to stiffen.  Taking Nick's hand, their wounds met
and LaCroix closed his eyes.  Within seconds, however, he released the
younger man's hand, lips parting slightly.  Instead of giving his son
blood, he was taking it.  LaCroix looked at his hand, the wound
visibly bleeding and already healing.  Nick's hand, however, was
neither healing nor was there even a hint of blood.  "I cannot help
him."

"Why?" Diane demanded.  "What's wrong with him?"

LaCroix merely sent a golden glare at the mortal before turning and
walking away, fighting the urge to pace.

From where he stood in the doorway, Bryant quickly started forward and
shoved LaCroix against the wall.  "Answer her!"

Immediately, LaCroix grabbed the mortal by the neck and spun them so
that it was Bryant pinned to the wall.  "I wouldn't do that again,"
LaCroix hissed, holding the other firmly in place, even as the
detective's hands tried prying his hand away from his throat.
Abruptly releasing the mortal, LaCroix turned to find two guns aimed
at him--Metzger's and one of the officer's.

"Tell her!" Bryant forced, stepping toward LaCroix.

Diane darted forward, stepping between Metzger and LaCroix.

LaCroix took advantage of the woman's foolish attempt to help him and,
giving a glance to Nick, he left the room.  There was nothing he could
do for his son without blood.

When Bryant started after LaCroix, she told him, "No, leave him."

"Why, he just about killed me!"

"But he didn't," Diane said, pointedly.  Then she paused, explaining,
"He's likely hungry, tired, and frustrated.  Let me talk to him;
alone, without any weapons pointed at him."  She waited and, upon
receiving a reluctant nod, left the room to find LaCroix.  Glancing
into the other bedroom, she found him standing near the window,
glancing out.

LaCroix turned as he listened to the hushed tones of Detective Bryant
ordering the officer that had followed him into the room to leave.
The detective left soon after, leaving only the mortal woman behind.
He curiously watched as she closed the door, effectively shutting
herself in the room with him.

Holding her position even as LaCroix approached her, she extended her
hand and introduced herself, "I'm Dr. Diane Reed."

"I'm sure you know who I am."

"Lucien LaCroix," she answered.  When the other didn't take her hand,
she retracted it, asking, "Do you prefer to go by Lucien or--"

"LaCroix," he instantly replied.

A bit uncomfortable at the tone, Diane asked, "So then, LaCroix, will
you tell me what's happening to Brabant?"

"Why should I say anything to you?" he asked, continuing forward.

"I'm a doctor.  I can try to help him."

"A doctor.  Does that mean you're another pathologist; or is your
specialty paediatrics?  Or perhaps psychiatry?"  LaCroix sinisterly
laughed as he came to a stop within reach of the woman, stating, "You
have already admitted that you know nothing about vamp--"

"My specialty is cardiac surgery.  Sean is my brother-in-law and I
sometimes do consultations for him and the other detectives.  And
while I am nowhere near an expert on vampires, I do think I can help."

"Unless you have access to several litres of blood...."

"I made a request before you woke up.  As it's a situation that hasn't
happened before, it turns out there's a fair bit of approval and
paperwork involved."

"In other words, no."

Diane set her jaw.  Why couldn't he just cooperate?  Couldn't he tell
that she was trying to help them?  "If I have a reason that indicates
immediate need, I'll get it.  The request I put in was for both of
you, as from what Bryant and Sean told me you two went through quite
an ordeal this morning.  But I can't do anything more until I know
what happened and exactly what needs to be done.  The more you can
tell me the better."

LaCroix turned back toward the window, shutting his eyes.  "The
objective of the poison seems to be to starve us."

"How?"

"Extreme nausea resulting in the inability to ingest blood and lack of
hunger."

"And vomiting."

"Yes."

"And he's still unconscious because...?"

LaCroix turned, his voice becoming terse as he answered, "As I said,
Nicholas is weak--from more than just the poison."

Diane stiffened as she saw flecks of gold dancing in the vampire's
eyes.

Feeling his hunger and weakness rather acutely, LaCroix walked slowly
and purposely toward a chair in the corner of the room and sat down,
once again facing the mortal.

Stepping toward LaCroix, Diane asked, "When was the last time each of
you had any blood?"

"It's been a week and a half for Nicholas."

"And you?"

Looking toward the draped window, LaCroix answered, "A week."

Aware the times couldn't possibly be adequate, particularly given the
blue tinge she had seen in Nick's skin, Diane asked, "That's not
nearly often enough, is it?"

LaCroix didn't reply as, from the question, he suspected she already
had a good idea of his answer.

"Will he recover?"  Once again getting only silence, she tried again,
"If he gets blood soon, will he recover?"

LaCroix turned slowly back.  "Likely."

"How long until he wakes?"

"Several hours, at least."  LaCroix then leaned back and closed his
eyes, intending to rest.

Diane stepped forward, but took only the one step.  He didn't want to
speak to her, and he was undoubtedly tired.  She left, only to find
both Bryant and Metzger waiting in the hall.

"So, what did he tell you?" Bryant immediately prodded.

As she shut the door, she told them, "Well, I have a general idea of
what's going on with Brabant now.  Other than that, nothing new."

"And?"

"Like LaCroix said, he needs blood.  I'll be back as soon as I can.
I'm going to the hospital to see if I can speed things up and to get a
few things.  If Brabant comes to before I'm back, call me."

Metzger stopped Diane from leaving, grabbing her wrist as she passed
to get her attention.  "And LaCroix?"

"Let him rest; that goes for both of you," she said, turning toward
Bryant for emphasis, then continued toward the front door.


Downward Spiral - (20/27)

Late that night, Detective Metzger started awake when the officer
watching Nick shook him.

"Brabant is...well, I guess he's awake."

"You guess?" Metzger asked as he stood and focused his attention on
the bed.  Immediately, he saw that Nick had shifted slightly to his
side, but otherwise the vampire looked the same--until he saw the
golden glow of Nick's eyes staring calmly at him.  "Get Dr. Reed," he
said, walking forward, feeling as if he were in a trance.

Nick bared his fangs, hissing at the mortal and turning more on his
side, moving away.  He felt ill, and having these mortals so close
only made it worse.  As two more mortals entered the room, Nick pulled
back as one of them, a woman, walked straight at him.

Diane walked up to the bed and sat on the edge, setting a bag down
behind and beside her.  "It's good to see you awake," she said as she
inched closer, hoping the greeting would help calm him.

Nick sat up and leaned against the headboard.  "No," he simply said as
she reached out toward him.

Stopping her approach, Diane asked, "How do you feel?"

Nick closed his eyes, attempting to relax.  When he sensed one of the
other mortals start forward, Nick opened his eyes only to find a gun
was also being raised toward him.  Instinct took over, at which he
grabbed the woman and pulled her in front of him.  The other three
mortals then raised their weapons.  Nick would have snarled at them,
but didn't feel he had the energy.

"Release her!" Bryant commanded.

Nick merely pulled the woman closer, his lips brushing against the
side of her neck.  She seemed calm, but her heart rate betrayed the
illusion.  Seeing LaCroix enter the room, Nick inwardly relaxed.

Bryant turned his attention to the other vampire, telling him, "Get
him to--"

"What makes you think I can get Nicholas to do anything?" LaCroix
replied with a partial smile.

Diane tried not to shiver at the icy cold breath against her neck or
the cold skin under her fingers.  And then, when she felt Nick's grip
loosen slightly, she shifted only for him to retighten his hold on
her.

Feeling a wave of nausea, Nick leaned his head forward onto the
woman's shoulder, waiting for it to pass.

LaCroix stepped toward bed, ignoring the weapons that were now trained
on him, and gently pulled Nick toward him and away from the mortal
woman.

Bryant darted forward and took Diane's arm, pulling her away from Nick
despite her protests.  Seeing her reach for his gun and push it to the
side, he demanded, "What do you think--"

"Me?  Maybe if you'd stop waving your weapons around...."

LaCroix turned his attention away from the arguing mortals to Nick,
who was now leaning heavily against him.  Sensing pain in the other
even as Nick's fingers clenched his arm, LaCroix half-pulled and half-
lifted Nick to his feet, then backed slowly toward the bedroom door.

Seeing the movement, Bryant pushed Diane out of the way, stepping
toward the two vampires.  "Stay right there!"

Diane again tried to push Bryant's hand away, but this time he
wouldn't budge.

"Mark, just put it down," Metzger said, putting his own weapon away.
Nodding toward LaCroix, he asked, "We'll keep our calm if you stay in
this house, okay?"

Without answering, LaCroix left the room, taking Nick with him.  Aware
the mortals were following, LaCroix stopped at the bathroom door just
long enough to let Nick fly the few feet from the hall to the bathroom
sink.  He stepped inside and then pushed the door shut just as the
woman approached.

"Wait!"  Diane knocked on the door, demanding, "Let me in, LaCroix."
She waited, but she wasn't getting an answer.  Pausing as the phone
rang, Diane then relaxed and leaned against the door.  Holding her bag
in front of her, she quietly continued, "Please, I have something that
should help him."

"Dr. Reed?" one of the two uniformed officers called out.  Then,
approaching, he told her, "It's for you; apparently the hospital has,
er, authorisation?"

Diane closed her eyes.  The authorisation had to be on the blood she
wanted--something she hadn't quite gotten permission on earlier.
"Ah...tell them that I'll have someone come down within the next
hour."  When the young man vanished, going back to the phone, she
turned to her brother-in-law.  "Sean, could you go up to the hospital
and tell them I sent you?"

"Yeah.  Yeah, I'll go.  Just take care with those two.  And Bryant,
remember what I told them earlier?"

When Metzger looked toward him, Bryant reluctantly nodded, telling his
partner, "I'll try."  He then looked away, already feeling a bit
helpless to do anything.

Once Metzger had left, Diane stepped back over to the door.
Listening, she could hear nothing.  "LaCroix, please let me in.  I
only want to--"  She stepped back as the door gave way, opening to
reveal LaCroix.  She tried to look past him, but he slipped out into
the hall before she could see anything.  "H-how is he?" she asked as
LaCroix turned and she took a step back into the doorframe.

LaCroix paused, attempting to contain his anger.  Ignoring the woman's
question, he asked, "What can you do for him?"

"Is he still nauseous?" she asked, but he didn't answer.  "If he is, I
can try to give him something to help that.  I have--"

"Are you certain it will help?" LaCroix demanded, interrupting the
woman.  "Yes or no."

"I can't say for sure as I don't know how vampires are physically
different."  Sensing that LaCroix wasn't going to listen to her much
longer, she told him, "If I had to pick one, I'd say that yes, I think
it will help."

Annoyed but aware he had little choice, LaCroix twisted the doorknob
and pushed it open an inch.

Half-frozen under LaCroix' glare, Diane slowly stepped to the side and
pushed the door open behind her.  Turning, she continued to push the
door inward, tacking a step away from the door as she saw Nick.  He
sat on the floor, leaning against the cabinets, one hand hanging onto
the counter, obscuring his face.  Seeing a few drops of diluted blood
in the sink, she looked up and knew from the haphazardly rinsed out
sink that Nick had lost yet more blood.  She snapped her head around
as the door was pulled shut behind her, only to find she was alone.
LaCroix hadn't come back in.

Looking back to Nick, Diane carefully kneeled in front of him.  "What
should I call you?" Diane started, and then further prodded,
"Nicholas?  Nick?  Brabant?  Knight?  Something else?"

"Nick is fine," he whispered, still leaning his forehead against the
cool wood.

"Well, Nick, if you give me your arm, I can--"

"I heard what you said to LaCroix," Nick harshly interrupted.  "You
don't need to repeat it."

Pursing her lips, Diane watched his body wince with pain.  Slowly, she
reached forward, her hand stopping just before reaching his wrist,
right as he tensed.  Pulling her hand back, she told him, "If you
heard our conversation, you know I want to help.  But I do need your
help first."  Again reaching for Nick's wrist, this time she didn't
stop.  With her fingers wrapped loosely around Nick's unbudging wrist,
she asked, "Please?"

Reluctantly, Nick relaxed and let the woman pull his arm toward her.

"Thank you," Diane said as she rolled his sleeve up.  Trying not to
think about the cold skin in her hands or the weakness she felt in
Nick's muscles, she turned to her bag, avoiding his gaze.  She filled
a syringe with 3 ml of fluid and took Nick's arm.  Seeing him look
away, she paused, asking, "You don't like needles?"

"Not fond of them.  Just do it."

Nodding more to herself than Nick, Diane gave him the injection.
"This is Compazine.  It should alleviate--"

Nick yanked his arm back as soon as she was done, pulling it up
against his chest.

Diane would have continued, but his harsh expression told her he
didn't care.  "I gave you a little more than the usual dose," Diane
told him as she closed up her case.  "But if the nausea doesn't fade
soon, tell me, okay?"  When he didn't answer her, not even bothering
to look at her, she cautiously reached out toward him.  "Nick?" she
prodded as she brushed his hair to the side to get a better look at
his face.

Nick pulled back further as the woman's fingers nearly touched his
skin.  When she then reached for his chin, Nick abruptly turned,
baring his fangs with a snarl.

Diane fell backward, her elbow hitting the door in her surprise.
"Sorry, I just--"  As the door opened next to her and she saw LaCroix
staring down on her, Diane cut off her sentence.  She looked at Nick,
but he had already turned away from her.  "Remember, let me know--"
and then she gasped as she was lifted to her feet by LaCroix and
pulled into the hall.

"You've done what you wanted to do," he stated, releasing her and
turning to go to Nick.

Without thinking, Diane took LaCroix' arm, telling him, "I wanted to
wait and make sure--"

"You have done enough!" he replied, shaking off her touch.  "If
Nicholas does not improve, I will tell you."  LaCroix went to Nick,
pushing the bathroom door closed behind him.

Diane and Bryant waited silently for several minutes, and then Diane
prodded the other in the arm.  "Let's leave them alone."

"What, and stand by and watch them leave?"

"If they really want to leave, I don't think we'll be able to stop
them."

Although hesitant, Bryant nodded and headed to talk to one of the
officers stationed at the house.  Diane followed moments later, only
for her thoughts to turn to her brother-in-law--and the blood he was
getting from the hospital.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

It was early morning before Detective Metzger had returned to the safe
house.  Inside, he found both officers sleeping and Diane sitting in a
chair in the main bedroom where both vampires lay sleeping on the bed.

"Diane!" he called with a harsh whisper to get her attention.  Once
she had joined him in the hall, he asked, "Where's Bryant?"

"He went home."

"Great.  That'll go over just great," Metzger said unenthusiastically.
Seeing Diane's confusion, he explained, "The word is out that me and
Bryant were with them.  Both the papers and the news stations want to
know where they are and what's happening.  Captain suggested we should
stay here to avoid drawing attention."

Diane nodded.  She had seen the news and knew that the two vampires
were likely still being hunted.  And if they were found, she and those
nearby would be in danger.

Lifting the black cooler bag in his hand, Metzger asked, "So, how much
blood is in here, anyway?"

Diane's eyes shifted to the bag.  Taking it, she answered, "Hopefully
more than enough."  Walking back into the bedroom, Diane placed the
bag on the chair she had been sitting in and unzipped the top.  Glad
to see two IV lines at the top, Diane took both out, along with two
bags of blood.

Metzger, looking at the two vampires as they slept, commented, "They
seem quite close."

Diane glanced toward the bed, but nothing had changed from when she
had first seen them there.  LaCroix still lay next to and slightly
beneath the other, Nick's head leaning back toward LaCroix.

Watching Diane's seemingly uncaring expression turn back to the bags
of blood, Metzger asked, "Don't you think it's a bit, well, weird?"

"Not really.  Nick had passed out and I don't think LaCroix is doing
much better; he wasn't awake for long," she told him, approaching the
side of the bed Nick lay on.  Setting half of her supplies down, she
quickly hooked the IV line into the bag of blood, adding, "And
remember, unless what's been reported on them is false, they're father
and son."

Metzger tensed as Diane took Nick's arm, turning it to reach his inner
forearm.  He looked away as she carefully stuck the needle in his arm,
taped it into place, and then set the bag of red liquid on his chest. 
When Diane took the other bag and, walking around to the other side of
the bed, inserted the IV line into the bag, he asked, "Are you sure
you should do that?" glancing momentarily toward LaCroix.

Diane said nothing.  Cautiously, she took LaCroix' right arm and
inserted the needle.  However, as she taped the line into place and
then turned LaCroix' arm back, his hand snaked sideways, catching her
by the wrist and causing her to gasp.

Now wide-awake, LaCroix opened his eyes to see fright in the mortal
woman's eyes.  The fear pleased him, and he released her arm.  LaCroix
relaxed, already starting to feel stronger as blood flowed slowly into
him.

"I didn't mean any harm," Diane whispered, worrying what his reaction
would be.  "I thought you were sleeping."

"I was."  Turning to fully face the woman, LaCroix told her, "Nicholas
needs the blood more than I do."

"I have plenty enough for both of you."  Diane stood and crossed the
room to the cooler bag.  "If you're tired, you should sleep.  I know I
need some."

"No," LaCroix hissed, carefully shifting out from under Nick and
sitting up.  "I want some answers."

"Such as?" Metzger asked, stepping forward to divert attention from
Diane.

"Why do you seem to be making an effort to help us?"

"Would you rather we not?"

LaCroix' eyes flashed a deep gold at the detective.

"Last week we were told that any vampires found were to be treated as
any human would be," Metzger stated.  "When we found you, you two were
the victims."

"And can we freely leave?" LaCroix asked, wanting to know these
mortals' intentions.

"Well, we can't stop you from leaving.  I mean, you're not under
arrest or anything...."

"But you would prefer that we stay."

Metzger glanced away for a second.  He had somewhat dreaded this topic
coming up.  While there was no official reason to ask them to stay,
there were advantages for both sides.  "Isn't it your best option?" he
asked, turning back to LaCroix.

LaCroix tried not to snarl at the mortal, fully aware that he and Nick
were safer here than if they left.  Even though the likeliness of
discovery was very high here, if a mortal went after them now, while
they were in this house under a sort of protective custody, they would
have to be insane.

Abruptly feeling a wave of tiredness, LaCroix looked away.  Seeing
Diane start forward, he met her gaze with a sharp glance and then lay
back down.  He quickly closed his eyes, not wanting to deal with these
mortals any more than necessary.


Downward Spiral - (21/27)

Waking late that morning after sleeping on the couch, Diane went to
check on Nick and LaCroix.  Earlier, she had stayed to give both of
them blood, stopping the IVs only when the blood started flowing more
slowly to each of them.

Now, looking into the room, she found LaCroix sleeping soundly in the
bedroom that the two vampires had been resting in.  Nick, however,
wasn't in the room.

Getting the bag she had the Compazine in, Diane stiffened when she
discovered a syringe was missing.  Nick must have already given
himself more of the drug.

Diane then froze as she turned around, noticing the bright sunlight
streaming into the hall from the other bedroom.  Quickly but
cautiously, she approached the doorway, a bit surprised to find Nick
standing just to the side of the open drapes.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Nick glanced toward
Diane.  He then forcefully yanked the drapes shut before letting his
eyes fully settle on her.

Nervous from the other's harsh action, Diane slowly stepped toward
Nick.  Much as when she introduced herself to LaCroix, she held out
her hand as she spoke, "I don't think I introduced myself earlier.
I'm--"

"Dr. Diane Reed," Nick interrupted, finishing for her.  "A cardiac
surgeon."

"Yes," she stiffly affirmed.  Then, curiously, she asked, "How did you
know?"

"The first I vaguely remember from listening to the conversation in
the hall last night."  Nick slowly walked over to a chair in the
corner of the room.  Although he felt like collapsing into it, Nick
carefully lowered himself, keeping his eyes on the woman.  "LaCroix
also told me earlier."

Completely unaware of the latter, she blurted out, "He was awake?"

"For some time, I believe."

Pausing, taking a few moments to think, Diane asked, "How long have
you been up?"

"Less than an hour."

Diane forced a pleasant smile as she commented, "You seem to be doing
better.  And you look much better."

"How much blood did you give me?"

"Seven units."

Nick closed his eyes and listened to both the woman's approaching
footsteps and heartbeat.  He was still so very hungry, her pulse
becoming louder by the second.  Realising he was focusing far too much
on the woman's blood, Nick opened his eyes and looked away, hoping the
bland sight of the far wall would somewhat distract his hunger.

"I saw that you took some more of the drug I gave you."

"Yes.  It's helping."  He slowly turned toward Diane, telling her,
"I'd have probably been quite ill from the blood by now if not for
it."

Sensing Nick was taking care what he told her despite the extra
information to his reply, she asked, "How much better are you,
really?"

Nick again looked away.  She wasn't going to back off.  "It's
difficult to stand for any length of time."  Then, meeting the woman's
curious expression, he added with a faint smile, "Overall, I feel
better than I did the last time I got a dose of their poison.  With
more blood, I think I'll be fine."

"There's more blood for when you want it.  I put the rest is in the
refrigerator," Diane said, gesturing behind her toward the hall.

Just as Nick prepared to answer, he heard a door open and then shut.
Someone had arrived--two mortals by the sounds of the added heart
beats.

Diane had also heard someone enter the house, and she stepped back
several steps.  Turning around, she left the room and headed toward
the commotion.  Approaching, she found Bryant and another man.  The
latter she was sure she had seen before, but her memory was sluggish
in telling her where.  "Bryant, what--"

"Where's Nick?" the man asked.

Diane didn't answer, taken back by the demanding tone of the man.
When he started past her and turned toward the hall, she went after
him only for Bryant to stop her.

"He is awake?" Bryant asked.

"Awake, yes, but he doesn't need any surprises."  At that, she started
toward the man and the room where she had left Nick.

Sensing a mortal's approach and having heard bits of conversation and
a somewhat familiar voice, Nick stood just in time to see Schanke
appear in the doorway.  He shook his head, eyes wide.  "You shouldn't
be here, Schanke."

"Probably not."  Schanke stepped into the room, quickly noticing a
familiar weakness in the other.  In fact, Nick looked worse.  "You
don't look as, er, well," he said, stumbling and changing his comment
part way through.

"Really?" Nick replied with a feeble hint of sarcasm.

Diane entered, stunned at the pleasantly amused appearance of Nick's
face.  He clearly both knew this man and felt comfortable around him. 
Looking to the man, however, she noticed he didn't seem at all at
ease.  And then, seeing the two together, it hit her who she was
looking at.  The man was Detective Donald Schanke, and had been Nick's
partner in Toronto.

Schanke watched as Nick's enthusiasm faded, seemingly overcome by
something else.  Approaching Nick, he asked, "What happened?"  When
Nick didn't show any signs of wanting to answer, he turned to the
woman.  "I'd like to talk to Nick alone, if you wouldn't mind?"

Diane stiffened, sensing this wasn't a question, but a demand.
Reluctantly, she nodded and left.  After all, she already knew what
had happened.

Once the woman left, Schanke turned and walked to the door, shutting
it.  Turning around, Schanke watched as Nick's facade melted.  He went
to help Nick sit down, but Nick had already taken the step backward
toward the chair and practically fell into it.

"All I know about what happened is that Austin Police found you and
LaCroix while they were hoping to arrest several ex-IVEA agents, and
that you had been attacked."

"Then you pretty much know what happened."

"Pretty much?"  Schanke could barely believe that Nick seemed to be
trying to say as little about what happened as he could.  "Come on,
Nick, spill it."

Nick looked away, telling the other, "You really shouldn't be here."

"I care what happens to you, Nick."  Then, with a slight shrug, he
added, "Myra said it was fine and, actually, it was Cohen that
suggested I come...."

Nick turned sharply back.  "Cohen?"

"Yeah, thought it'd be good for me.  Myra agreed.  Cohen practically
bought my ticket; she put me on mandatory 'vacation'.  Nilson, he was
arrested about a week ago.  He was on the IVEA's payroll.  You should
have seen it; it was right at change of shift, right as I was getting
there.  At first, he was shocked; then he darted.  So, no more
partner."

Stunned, Nick half-digested Schanke's reply, filing the rest away.
"How did you get them to let you come here?" Nick then asked,
gesturing to the room's door.

"Now that wasn't easy.  You can thank your and LaCroix' mood for that
one; I think they let me come here because of knowing you better."
Schanke paused, adding, "And don't think this means I'm here to help
them get more from you.  And don't tell me to leave, either.  I can
see how weak you are.  And you're probably going to exhaust yourself
trying to hide it."

Firmly meeting Schanke's gaze, Nick replied, "I'm not going to tell
you to leave.  It's not what I want."

"It isn't?"

"No."  Nick managed a smile.  "You might want to sit down, Schanke,"
he said.  Then, once Schanke had done so, Nick began to explain
exactly what happened to him and LaCroix.  He explained the attack and
also what had happened since.

When Nick finished, Schanke was a bit stunned that Nick was as
coherent as he was.  But then, Nick had also admitted that he barely
remembered anything about waking up earlier, so perhaps Nick wasn't as
well as he seemed?

"I'll be fine, Schanke," Nick said, again forcing a smile.  "I've
managed to live this long; I don't think you have to worry that I'm
going to suddenly keel over."

Schanke nodded, pleased to at least see that Nick seemed to be
relaxing.  Nick would be fine, even if he wasn't right now.  Arguing
about it wasn't going to change anything.  "So," Schanke started, then
asked, "What do you think about what happened last week?  I think it's
bad, but at least it draws attention away from you a little."

Nick tensed.  What had happened last week?  It had been more than a
week since either he or LaCroix had last seen or heard the news.

"You have checked out the news, haven't you?"

Shaking his head, Nick answered, "Not...recently.  What happened?"

"Well, you know how the IVEA would put up information when they had
killed a vampire?  Well, they apparently decided that since they
couldn't legally hunt you guys anymore that they'd expose as many
vampires as possible.  Probably every name and all the information on
every vampire they know or suspect...Nick, it's all been made public."

Stunned, Nick swallowed, his gaze drifting to the floor.  "How many?"

"Ah, a couple of hundred.  Two-seventy something, I think."  Schanke
paused, then rambled a little, starting, "Can't imagine it's the best
for the vampires mentioned, though.  I mean, can't exactly try and go
incognito, can they?"

Nick shook his head.  If they weren't already trying to hide and stay
out of view, they now would be.  "And what's the overall reaction?"

"Actually, it just gave the FBI another reason to find as many ex-IVEA
agents as possible.  They didn't much like having information they
hadn't seen plastered up for all.  They've, ah, actually tried getting
into contact with several of your kind, but with little success."

Nick abruptly turned his attention back to Schanke, a bit worried.
"What do you mean?"

Schanke shifted.  "Well, for the most part, your kind are avoiding
them.  Two vampires were questioned, though.  Unsuccessfully."  Seeing
Nick's concern jump up even further, he explained, "The FBI isn't
releasing information on what they were questioned about.  It looks
like they didn't get their questions answered, and the two were
released, vanishing."

"So they want a vampire that will, willingly, cooperate with them?"

"That's my guess."

Nick looked toward the door, hearing one of the mortals pause as they
passed by.  Once sure the other had left, he asked, "What have they
told you about what they plan to do with me and LaCroix?  Anything?"

Schanke shook his head.  "Nada.  Absolutely zip."

"But?" Nick prodded.  "I'm sure you didn't leave it at that."

"I did ask if they were going to detain either of you.  The answer to
that was no; you and LaCroix are supposedly free to go whenever you
decide to leave."

"LaCroix told me they seemed to want us to stay.  Cited it as the
'best option.'  And while that is true, I wonder if they realise the
danger it might put them in?  Those hunting us are bound to know I'm
still alive by now."

"Yeah," Schanke whispered after a few moments, his attention drifting.
"Yeah, but the question is what are they going to do?"  Looking back
at Nick, he asked with calm seriousness, "And what are you going to
do?"

Nick firmly met Schanke's gaze.  He honestly hadn't decided.  "For
now, stay here.  But--"  Nick turned sharply toward the door, just as
someone knocked on it.

Before either man had a chance to either verbally respond or stand,
Diane pushed the door open.  "Detective Schanke?  Bryant wants to
introduce you to his partner and the other officers staying here,
since everyone's up."

Schanke gave a shrug to Nick as he stood.  "I'll be back," he said and
headed after Diane.

Once Schanke had left, Nick shifted so he could reach the curtain
behind him.  Leaning his head back, he tilted the drape forward.
Hearing LaCroix approach, he commented, "Avoiding the mortals,
LaCroix?"  Releasing the drape, Nick turned toward the door just as
LaCroix stepped into the room from the hall.

"Perhaps."  Slowly approaching, his eyes fully focused on a unit of
blood in one hand.  Meeting the younger man's eyes, LaCroix held the
bag of blood out toward Nick.  He smiled as Nick took the blood.
"From the kitchen.  As is this," LaCroix said, handing a glass tumbler
out as well.

Nick took the glass as well, one hand wrapped firmly around it as the
other fingered the bag of blood.

"I knew you wouldn't get any for yourself."

"Thank you, LaCroix," Nick whispered.

LaCroix walked over to the curtain, pulling one half slightly to the
side.  He didn't like how quiet it was outside.  As light streamed
between them, LaCroix commented, "I heard your partner's voice....
I'm surprised he would come."

"I'm not."

Releasing the curtain, LaCroix turned sharply toward Nick.  "Really?" 
When Nick glared at him, he smirked.  "Yes, he would come, wouldn't
he?  Stubborn, much like you."

"And you," Nick added.

Initially taking the comment as an angry stab, LaCroix' eyes began to
narrow.  But seeing a faint smile, he returned it.  The younger man
was in a very good mood, it seemed; likely due to his partner
arriving.

Nick played with the glass, turning it randomly in his hand.
"LaCroix, we aren't the only living vampires with our identities
revealed.  It happened last week.  Ex-IVEA did it."  Nick turned
toward the window, staring at the bits of light still streaming in
from where LaCroix had moved the curtains.  "Schanke told me.  It's
been on the news, I take it."

LaCroix' anger rose quickly.  Had the mortals believed they knew about
this?  Or had they kept it from them?  Although it was likely the
first given that they hadn't been there long or spoken with them much,
he wanted to know more about this new altercation.  What did it mean
for them?  He quickly turned and, walking quickly to the door, left
the room and headed to the main room, where he knew there was a
television.  He would rather get his answers there than from these
mortals.

Nick's attention flitted toward the door a moment, then back to the
bag of blood in his hand.  It was no longer quite as chilled as when
LaCroix had handed it to him, but it was far from the warm, fresh
blood he had become accustomed to the last couple of months.


Downward Spiral - (22/27)

Two nights later, the house lay nearly empty--just the local mortals
remained.  Nick knew LaCroix had left the house to obtain fresher
blood, although when asked he had merely told the detectives LaCroix
had wanted some fresh air.

Soon after, Schanke had suggested that Nick do the same.  Nick,
however, had no wish to hunt.  Granted, Schanke likely wasn't aware
that's what LaCroix was doing.  But, Nick agreed that he should, as he
was tired of being stuck in this house, and asked Schanke to accompany
him.

Agreeing, Schanke was unprepared to be pulled into the air the instant
they had exited the house.  He shut his eyes, not opening them until
he felt solid ground beneath him.  "Where are we?"

"About a mile from the house."

Eyes wide, Schanke could barely believe it.  Nowhere near enough time
had passed for them to travel that far, had it?  "A mile?  But...."
Schanke just shook his head.  Nick didn't really need to say anything.
"So," he started as he stepped toward and, after a few seconds, met
even with Nick's steps, he asked, "Vampires like to take walks?"

"It's better than sitting in that house all night."

"Yeah, probably."  They walked for about half a block before Schanke
commented, "Bryant doesn't seem to like either you or LaCroix much."

"No.  We've been trying to avoid him."

"And he you, I noticed.  You don't think he's...well...."

"No, he's not a hunter.  He would have shot one of us if he were a
hunter instead of waving his weapon.  He just feels nervous around
us."

Schanke considered what Nick said and his oddly calm and certain tone.
"You're not surprised by it."

"Not really.  I'm more surprised by the woman."

"Dr. Reed?  She's what, friendly and doesn't seem at all put aback by
what you--"

"She's frightened, Schanke."

Schanke stopped.  "Frightened?" he asked, wondering where that had
come from.  From what he had seen of the doctor's interactions with
Nick and LaCroix over the past two days, she seemed very certain in
her actions.  Catching back up, he asked, "Nick, she went straight for
your arm tonight, no hesitation."

"And I told her very clearly that I had had enough of her drug," Nick
softly hissed.  "And in case you haven't noticed, she's stayed away
after that.  I even finally got her to leave."  Closing his eyes a
moment, Nick explained, "The only reason she was helping was because
of her training as a doctor.  But she was frightened, Schanke.  Afraid
of what either myself or LaCroix could or possibly would do to her."

Schanke didn't comment, noticing Nick visibly stiffen, his pace
quickening.  Nick was right, though, he supposed.  He had seen her
fear when Nick had insisted that he was fine, even a hint of anger.
And if Nick wanted nothing to do with the woman, it was fine with him.

They walked silently for a couple minutes.  Just as they reached
another street, Schanke asked, "So, you really feeling better like you
said earlier?"

"Better, yes."

"You're still nauseous?"

"Just a little queasy.  Nothing I need to be drugged for."

Schanke thought about that, but his mind quickly flashed back to Nick
wincing as he sipped from a glass of blood.  He had noticed it the
night before, and passed it off.  But Nick had done it again that
evening, shortly before they left.  Carefully prodding, Schanke
stated, "But the blood still bothers you."

Nick halted mid-step, just long enough to put Schanke off his gait and
give the other a glance.  He didn't think Schanke would have noticed
anything like that, but he apparently did.  "It's not what you think,"
he commented, continuing down the sidewalk.  "Schanke, there's nothing
wrong with the blood.  I'm fine, too."

"But you..." Schanke started, trying to think of a good way to
describe Nick's reaction.  A couple seconds later, he said, "Well, it
was like you...flinched, as if it was a bad taste or something."

Nick looked away, focusing on the yards of the homes they were walking
by, barely even looking where he was going.  Although he didn't
particularly want to talk to Schanke about the taste of blood, it
would perhaps get the point across that they were very different.  As
much as he liked Schanke coming, he wasn't sure he felt like talking.

"Nick?"

Giving a short glance to Schanke, Nick finally answered, "It tasted a
bit...stale."

"Stale?" Schanke asked.  "What, you mean like it's old?"

"Not really."  Nick closed his eyes, taking in a breath.  Then,
quickly, he explained, "Until a couple of days ago, the last time I
had donated blood was before you last saw me.  Since, LaCroix and I
have been drinking...very fresh blood."

It took Schanke a second to process what Nick meant by stale donated
blood and what else that meant.  The opposite of stale and donated was
fresh...and forcibly taken.  He tried not to think about it and asked,
"So it tastes different?  It depends on how, ah, fresh the blood is?"

"Yeah, it's different.  It's far easier to switch to a fresher supply
of blood than switch back."  Then, after a moment, Nick asked, "You do
realise this means I've killed, Schanke.  And not years or centuries
ago, but within the past month."

Shifting uncomfortably, Schanke replied, "Yeah, I kinda gathered
that."  He figured Nick had probably killed recently--while working he
had seen some recent cases where the victim had likely been killed by
a vampire--but he hadn't considered what he would say to or ask Nick. 
"But you guys didn't really have much choice, did you?"

"We had a choice, Schanke!  We could have only killed animals or taken
only a fraction of what we needed from several humans.  Killing
mortals for blood wasn't our only choice!"

"But it was the best option, wasn't it?" Schanke asked.  Nick,
however, didn't answer him and they returned to walking silently.  He
had thought about this, too, and he knew that the other options Nick
mentioned would have provided more victims.  Not only would it have
made vampires look worse, but it would probably also make them easier
to trace.  "You don't have to say anything, Nick.  I know you don't
like killing.  And while I don't really like that you had to do that,
it's better than starving to death, I guess, right?"

After they had passed several more houses, Nick whispered, "I'm
honestly not sure anymore, Schanke."

"Not sure?  What do you mean?  Not sure about what?"

"I'm not sure what I think of killing.  I felt...different about it
this time.  Apathetic."

Schanke swallowed.  Was Nick trying to say that he didn't care
anymore?  "Why?"

"Hunger, possibly.  And the last...the woman was a hunter.  I wanted
to kill her, Schanke, I--"  Nick cut off as he heard movement in the
yard they were passing.  He couldn't see a thing through the bushes,
but he could hear the heartbeats of several mortals.  They were only a
few feet away and closing.  He hadn't been paying enough attention to
his surroundings.  The movement distracted him enough that he missed
the approaching van--which pulled right up to the curb with a screech
of brakes.  He reached out toward Schanke, hoping to fly them both
away, but three mortals burst out of the bushes.  He froze as one
pushed Schanke to his knees, a gun held to the back of his head.

As another three mortals got out of the van, one of them said to Nick,
"Back away from him."

Nick hesitated a second, but did as told.  He had no choice,
especially as one of the men from the van also aimed his weapon on
Schanke.  If he moved, Schanke was dead.  How had he missed it?  But
he knew how, he wasn't paying attention.

"Now, kneel and put your hands on the back of your head," the man
continued.

Nick obeyed and he was handcuffed, with his hands being pulled behind
him.  "You think handcuffs will hold me?"

"Those might."  The man then turned to Schanke.  "You, too.  Hands
behind your head."

Schanke felt cuffs snap around his wrists, but unlike Nick, his hands
hadn't been moved.  As soon as he was cuffed, one of the men quickly
searched Nick and found nothing.

The man turned back to Nick.  "Get up and get in the back of the van. 
Resist and your friend dies."

Nick closed his eyes, not budging.

"Don't do it, Nick.  I'm not--"

"Shut up!" one of the men yelled at Schanke.  "Say another word and
you'll get a gag."

"You have five seconds or he dies.  Five, four, three--"

Nick stood.  Standing in place a moment, he walked slowly toward the
van, feeling a gun poke him into his back a couple of times.  When he
paused upon reaching the back of the van, one of the men grabbed his
arm, pushing him into the van, at which another man, still inside,
pulled him inside.  He felt a needle slide into his arm and he saw an
IV drip hanging from the side of the van as the need to sleep
overwhelmed him almost immediately.

Schanke tried standing as three of the men got back in the van.  As it
sped off, one of the remaining men kept him on his knees.  Then, he
too was searched, at which they took his badge and wallet.

Another vehicle pulled up, this time a car, and the other three men
got in, leaving Schanke kneeling on the sidewalk, still handcuffed.

As soon as the car left, Schanke was up on his feet and headed across
the street to the nearest house.  He banged on the front door until
the lights flipped on and someone came to the door.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

By the time Schanke arrived back at the house, he knew the men who
took Nick were likely long gone.  He had nothing useful to tell the
local detectives.  The vehicle's license plates had been covered, and
both the van and the car weren't unusual enough to be useful.

And, despite being picked up fairly quickly by Sean Metzger, LaCroix
was already pacing angrily by the time Schanke returned.  As he
related what happened while the handcuffs were removed, Schanke did
all he could to avoid LaCroix' accusing gaze.  LaCroix blamed him.
And he couldn't shake it off, as LaCroix was right.  If he hadn't been
with Nick, this wouldn't have happened.  Nick would have been able to
escape.

Schanke's mind went blank as the two detective's discussed calling the
station and working on finding out where Nick might have been taken.
Once alone with LaCroix, Schanke focused on the other man, watching
the vampire turn purposefully away from him.

Walking to the door, Schanke pushed it shut.  Turning back to find
LaCroix' eyes on him, he was sure the faint gold tinge to the other
man's gaze was anger.  Walking back toward LaCroix, Schanke prodded,
"Why are you still here?  I mean, can't you do something?  Janette
mentioned something....  You can sense him, right?  Can't you, I don't
know, tell where he is?"

LaCroix looked away.

Whether LaCroix simply didn't want to talk or he was helpless to do
anything, Schanke knew he'd already said more than enough.  "I'm going
to go see what the others are planning to do," Schanke mentioned as he
left the room.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Groggily, Nick slowly woke to find himself in a plain but dark room.
Light filtered in through the barred door, just enough to see that,
other than himself, there was nothing else in the room.  Absolutely
nothing.  His hands were no longer cuffed, at least.

Quickly regaining his strength, he sat up.  This time, he had merely
been put to sleep.  He felt no more nauseous now than when he had been
walking with Schanke.  Thinking about that, he tensed.  Where was
Schanke?  Had they let him go or did they keep him?  If they had done
the latter, it was probably to force him to cooperate.  He hoped that
wasn't the case, but given that Schanke could identify the men that
had taken him, he wasn't sure.

Hearing the approach of several mortals, Nick got to his feet just as
they arrived.

"You're awake, good."

Nick vaguely recognised the man that spoke, sure he had seen this man
on the news at some point.  "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Mark Evans.  Your partner was quite loyal when we questioned him in
Toronto.  He managed to lie to us."

Ignoring the reference, Nick narrowed his eyes.  "Why bring me here?"
he hissed, then let them see his fangs.  "You would have been better
off killing me.  You've had plenty of chances."

"For now, you're more useful alive."  Evans smiled.  "A couple of
notes for when you wake up later....  The door will shock you if you
touch it, so I'd suggest staying back.  If you disregard that
suggestion, your friend will be harmed."

Nick tensed.  The man held up Schanke's badge for him to see.  It just
made his anger flare more, and he took a step closer.

"I'd stay back."  Evans nodded to the left.  As he stepped to the
side, another man, some kind of security guard, walked into view with
a handgun pointed at him.  "Besides, you don't have time for that."

The door slid open and the man fired.  Nick knew he had no chance of
making it out as the second bullet hit him.  A third shot and he fell
to his knees.  With the fourth shot, he was unconscious.

A man wearing a lab coat approached, to which Evans ordered, "Get
several vials of blood from him, quickly."

The doctor followed the guard into the room, the latter approaching
Nick with his gun pointed firmly on the vampire.

"If he moves, shoot him again."

Once the doctor obtained four full vials of Nick's blood, he stood and
left.

The other man hesitated a second, then slowly walked around Nick.
Glancing behind him to make sure the door was squarely behind him, the
guard abruptly gasped in pain.  He felt pressure on his neck and found
he couldn't speak.  And with his arm twisted, he could no longer hold
onto his weapon, which fell to the ground.

Several shots were fired which, while again disabling Nick, also
killed the guard.

Evans, still holding his weapon, stepped into the room.

"You didn't have to kill him!" the doctor exclaimed.

"He would have died, anyway.  Just look at him!  He had been bitten."

The doctor looked down at the guard, realising that Evans was right.
On the guard's neck was a rough and bloody wound and, next to it, two
far cleaner puncture marks.

"Get him out of here," Evans ordered, gesturing to the guard.

"Me?  But--"

"Just pull him out into the hall."  Eyes not leaving Nick, Evans
watched the other reluctantly do as told.  Once the guard had been
moved out of the cell, he continued, "And now you're going to sedate
Brabant."

"I need him awake, you know that.  I need his blood as free from--"

"Then sedate him lightly.  Do it however you want, just make sure he
is weakened enough to control him or you'll be his next meal."

Nodding, the doctor excused himself to his office, mentioning he
needed to get supplies.

Evans quickly switched out the clip in his gun just as another guard
arrived.  "Get in here and watch him!" he yelled.  As the other
approached, he said, "If he breathes, shoot him.  Do not hesitate.
And I wouldn't let your attention waver."

Stepping into the hall, Evans glanced down at the dead guard for a
second, and then pulled out a two-way radio.  He called for the rest
of security to meet him; mainly to deal with the body, but also so
that when Frank returned to sedate Brabant, he could ensure there
wouldn't be a repeat of events.

As he waited, Evans saw movement out of the corner of his eye.  In the
next room over, their other guest was awake and had been watching him.
That's all they needed--giving encouragement to the other one.  In his
mind, they should have both been killed by now.  Especially Brabant,
who didn't seem to want to give up like the others they had brought
here.


Downward Spiral - (23/27)

Late morning, well after the sun had risen, LaCroix had left the
mortals upon sensing Nick.  Detective Schanke had already gone with
the two local detectives to their precinct with the intention of
trying to help.  He had remained behind despite Schanke's prodding
that he should come with him, both because the sun had risen and
because he had no wish to be surrounded by mortals.

Then, when he had sensed his son was awake, he had immediately left
the house.  But the bright daylight impeded his effort far more than
he wished.  That, and he hadn't gotten a clear fix on Nick before the
other again weakened.  All he could sense was a muddled, vague feeling
that told him little more than that his son was alive, but not where.

He had searched for two hours, hoping that Nick would strengthen
again, but so far there was no sign of that happening.  With
reluctance, LaCroix realised that for now he could do nothing on his
own.  Once night fell, he could perhaps try to find the other; but for
now, it was futile.

LaCroix considered returning to the house, but instead he decided to
find the precinct where the mortals had gathered.  Perhaps they had
discovered something he could use?  After taking a moment to recall
snippets of conversation he had heard between the mortals, he
unenthusiastically found a phone book to look up the location.
Travelling during the day was not pleasant, and he had no wish to
wander around this city any longer than was needed.

Fifteen minutes later, arriving at his destination LaCroix carefully
avoided as many of the mortals as possible as he headed toward
Detective Schanke's voice.  He nearly reached him when he caught
another detective's gaze lingering on him.

"Surprised to see you here," Bryant barked.  "From what we heard, you
had left."

"Really?" LaCroix asked, turning his attention away from Bryant and
onto several other, unknown detectives, who seemed rather nervous upon
having his attention shifted unexpectedly to them.

Schanke stopped what he was doing, a bit surprised to see LaCroix
there.  From what he gathered, LaCroix had left to find Nick.  And if
he was here, then....  Gently, but insistently, Schanke took LaCroix
by the arm and led him away from and out of earshot of the others.

LaCroix fought the urge to yank his arm free from the mortal, but the
morning had already tired him enough that he didn't bother.  At least
it kept him from having to answer the other mortals' questions.

"You don't...well," Schanke started, but the other merely glared at
him.  "Nick's okay, right?"

"He is alive."

Schanke stiffened at the simple and almost indifferent comment.  "But
what?"

"I cannot locate him."  LaCroix looked away, sending a glare at
several of the mortals that were staring at him.  "When I sensed him
earlier, he was far stronger and awake."

"And now?"

Ignoring the question, LaCroix simply stated, "He must be found soon. 
These mortals will kill him the instant he is no longer of use to
them."

Schanke swallowed.  Somewhat hesitant, he told LaCroix in a whisper,
"The police here have been working with the FBI to track down rouge
ex-IVEA agents and others that have joined them.  They've been
tracking the movements of several groups in the area, and they know
one of them went after you and Nick.  They don't know where Nick was
taken, but do know that he wasn't taken far.  A couple hundred miles,
tops."

"He's not in the city."

"So you can sense him?" Schanke carefully prodded, lowering his voice
even further.  "I mean, right now?"

"Faintly."  LaCroix smirked, just for a second, but it quickly
vanished.  "But only enough to know that Nicholas is not in the
immediate area."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

As Nick woke, his surroundings slowly brightened into a blurry mass.
After a couple of minutes the fuzziness faded, but his tiredness
remained.  All he could see was the empty back corner of the room.

Trying to sit up, Nick discovered he was too weak.  It took much
effort to turn his head the other way, but he managed it after a
couple of attempts.  Once he had, he immediately tried to pull away,
finding a mortal, clearly some sort of doctor, kneeling next to him.

"Hold him still!" said the doctor who had seen Nick earlier, shouting
to one of the security guards.

Nick struggled, but he still couldn't move.  He felt the mortal hold
his shoulders down.  Nick hissed up at the man, his fangs clearly
visible.  Feeling an ache from his right arm, he shifted his gaze just
as the doctor stood, holding a syringe and a full unit of blood in one
hand, a needle and several vials in the other.

Nick didn't even feel the other man release him, his eyes following
the two as they left the cell and closed the door.  He relaxed
somewhat once he was alone, although he felt uncomfortable lying
there, unable to do anything.  He felt no better now than he did as he
woke mere minutes earlier.

Looking away, less than five minutes later Nick was startled when he
heard something tossed in at him.  Turning back to the barred door, he
saw the doctor walking away.  After several tries, Nick managed to
shift far enough to the side to see what had been tossed in:  It was a
unit of blood.  Human blood, if his senses were accurate.  But was it
some trick?  Was it drugged?  Poisoned?

He managed to ignore the blood for a good quarter of an hour, his
attention fixed firmly on the ceiling.  But he was hungry.  Given that
they seemed to want him for his blood, the unit of blood was likely
not poisoned; they appeared to need him alive.  And, as he suspected
they had already drugged him, he reached for the blood.

And then, once he had the bag in his hands, he brought it to his lips
and bit into one corner.  Testing a few drops of the liquid--far
fresher than he had expected to taste--he felt a momentary surge of
energy and emptied the rest of the bag as fast as he could manage.

But it didn't help.  It dimmed his hunger--for the moment.  But he
still felt just as weak as he had before.

All he could do was lie there, completely still, and try to conserve
what little strength he had.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

LaCroix had stayed at the precinct, both out of need and lack of other
options.  The sun was still shining bright in the sky and would be for
several more hours.

He had listened in on the mortals over the past couple of hours, but
he learned only one thing; the mortals had no idea where Nick was.
They had a list of possible locations, yes.  But short of trying every
single one of them, they had nowhere to start.  And if they picked the
wrong first location, it could tip the hunters off if they were as
well organised as was believed.  Besides, he had trouble believing
these mortals genuinely wanted to find his son.

Sliding away from the mortals, LaCroix closed his eyes and leaned
against the wall, trying to block everything out.  All of the mortals
and all of their noise...even Nick.  But when he did, he felt his son
nearly as strong as he had that morning.  He was awake, but still
weak.

Schanke, who had watched LaCroix retreat mere moments before, saw the
vampire stiffen.  Stepping away from the others as well, Schanke
prodded, "LaCroix?"

"I know where Nicholas is," LaCroix answered, his eyes snapping open.

It took a second for the words to register, but when they did, Schanke
whispered, "You can sense him?"

"Yes."

"And Nick, he's...?"

"Alive, yes.  And awake."

Sensing LaCroix' hesitation to say more, Schanke started back toward
the table the local detectives were still gathered around.  He took
merely a single step before he turned back and took LaCroix' arm,
urging him to follow.  While light grip was instantly brushed off, he
did catch a nod from LaCroix, which he returned.  Schanke then stepped
over to the table, pushing one of the detectives aside with a shooing
motion.  "Move, move," he mumbled, searching the table for the list of
locations.  Spying the piece of paper, he snatched it and turned
around, handing it to LaCroix.  "Is it enough to narrow this list down
more?"

LaCroix scanned the locations.  The detectives had already crossed out
any location either in the city of Austin or within a half hour's
drive.  And that left seven more possibilities within two hundred
miles.  Again closing his eyes, this time he focused solely on Nick.
He turned, slightly, until he felt his son the strongest.  The younger
man was certainly not in the immediate area, but he couldn't be too
far away.  "That way," he said as he nodded to indicate ahead of him.

Caught off-guard by the words, no one immediately spoke.  After a few
seconds, a local detective replied, "That's northeast, I think...."
He walked over and took the paper from LaCroix, quickly scanning the
list.  Only one of the addresses was northeast of the city, and
looking up, he told the others, "It's the third address."

Another of the men, an FBI agent, pulled the list from the detective's
hand.  He shook his head.  "Wouldn't have checked there first, that's
for sure."  He dropped the paper back onto the table, detailing, "It's
a small building, not high on the list of possibilities.  We haven't
seen much activity there for several weeks."

"But it's probably ideal," Metzger whispered.  "In a virtually
unpopulated area, yet only an hour's drive from here."

No one spoke or moved for a long moment, at which Schanke found he
couldn't just stand there.  "So, are we waiting for something?"

"Well," the FBI agent started, explaining, "There's only seven of us
here, eight if you count Mr. LaCroix--"

"I'm not letting Nick sit there longer than necessary."  Schanke
turned and gave a nod to LaCroix, then started toward the exit.

Bryant stopped Schanke, and then turned his attention back to the FBI
agent.  "It's a small facility, right?  That's what you told us last
week, before any of this was a concern."  Releasing Schanke, he
stepped around the table and faced the FBI agent.  "You said there
were no guards outside the building."

"Yes, but there are security cameras on the property and we do not
know what is inside the building.  Nor how many people are inside, or
how many are armed.  We'd be blind idiots trying to--"

"Even with LaCroix helping us?" Schanke interrupted.  He then turned
toward LaCroix and raised his eyebrows slightly, hoping that LaCroix
would, indeed, help.  Receiving an almost mischievous smile, Schanke
tensed slightly, wondering just what LaCroix had in mind.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Evans cursed as he arrived in the security room.  Outside, three
vehicles had pulled up.  He watched the screen just long enough to see
a nearly covered figure slip out of a van.  Suspecting it was likely
LaCroix, as the vampire had been left with the Austin police, he
cursed again and then told the security guard, "Notify the others to
kill both of our guests.  Then go to the lab and help Frank destroy
his records."

Making his way as quickly as he could to the other end of the
building, Evans arrived at Nick's cell just as three men exited the
other vampire's cell and walked toward him.  "Is it done?"

"He's dust," one man replied.  "There's still Brabant, though."

Evans nodded as he followed the three inside Nick's cell.  He then
watched as they walked purposely toward the vampire, who was clearly
awake and trying to move away from the guards.

Nick hissed at the mortals as he tried to get up, but he hadn't even
managed to roll onto his side before they pinned him, facedown, to the
floor.  One of the mortals' grips slipped, and he hit the man as hard
as he could only to have his arm pulled sharply back.  Then, he felt a
sudden and sharp pain at the back of his neck, then nothing.

The four men stood still for nearly a minute, waiting.  But, unlike
their other victim, who burned to ashes half a minute after being
killed, nothing happened.  One of the men reached down and, taking
Nick's shoulder, rolled him over onto his back.

"Leave him," Evans ordered.

"But he hasn't--"

"It's done!  He'll turn to dust sooner or later."  He nodded toward
the hall, making it clear the conversation was over.  Once in the
hall, he looked to two of the men, telling them, "Go to the lab and
help Frank."  Switching his attention to the remaining man, he said,
"Destroy the security tapes if you can."

Knowing full well that none of them would be able to slip out of the
building, Evans headed toward his office, which was in the same
direction as the entrance.  Turning the corner, he found that LaCroix
and several other men had already entered the building.  Although they
were armed, he didn't bother going for his gun, as it would only give
them a reason to shoot and possibly kill him.  He stiffened, keeping
his gaze firm and purposeful even as the vampire's eyes flashed deep
red in anger.

LaCroix wasted no time, flying forward and shoving the mortal hard
against the wall behind him.  Having felt a wave of pain from Nick
moments earlier--and now nothing--LaCroix tightly gripped the man's
neck and demanded, "Where is he?"

"Dead," Evans stated hoarsely, only managing to get the one word out.

Hearing that, Schanke and Metzger slipped by LaCroix and headed to
find Nick.

Bryant, seeing that LaCroix was showing no sign of stopping and seeing
that the man's face was taking on a purplish tinge, stepped forward,
telling him, voice slightly raised, "Kill him and...well, I don't know
what will happen other than that I doubt it will be good for your
kind."

LaCroix shut his eyes, trying to avoid lashing out at the detective.
Infuriated, he roughly released Evans, only for the half-choking
mortal to send a satisfied glare at him.  Without warning, LaCroix
grabbed the man's arm, pulling him away from the wall, and then,
turning him, forcibly twisted his arm back while shoving him back
toward the wall.

Unwillingly, Evans cried out in pain as the bones in his forearm
broke.

LaCroix ignored the mortal and the foul curses now being directed at
him, his gaze drifting down the hall where Schanke and another
detective had just disappeared around another corner.  Meeting
Bryant's somewhat shocked gaze for a split second, he then headed
after the other two, hoping they were heading the right direction as
he heard one set of footsteps suddenly stop.

Further into the building, Schanke and Metzger had found their way to
a short hallway with two cells on one side.  Surprisingly, they hadn't
run into anyone else.  Reaching the first cell, Schanke stopped upon
seeing Nick lying on his back, seemingly unconscious, and Metzger
continued to the other cell.

Slowly, Schanke stepped into the room, sensing something was wrong.
The door was open and Nick was too still.  Going to him, Schanke knelt
next to Nick, his eyes darting to the deep-red blood pooled on the
floor at the base of Nick's head.  Gently, he half-rolled Nick onto
his side.  Seeing a metal grip connected to what looked like a thin
piece of metal slicing into Nick's skin and likely well into his neck,
he felt sick.  Did this count as decapitation?

Coming from the other room, Metzger said, "There's a dusting of ashes
and a near-circular metal blade in the other cell.  No occupants.  I--
"  Metzger froze as he entered Nick's cell, seeing what looked like
the blade he had seen in the other room embedded into Nick's neck.
"I'm going to see if that ambulance the FBI insisted on is here yet." 
Metzger left, not meeting LaCroix' gaze as he passed the vampire
several yards down the hall.

LaCroix slowed as he approached.  He had not expected to find his son
like this, not even with the mortal's statement.  Nor even with the
lack of the other's presence.

Schanke stepped out of the way as LaCroix knelt, watching as the
vampire gently touched Nick's face.  "Is Nick, ah...."

LaCroix ignored the unfinished question.  Touching the drops of blood
clinging to the younger vampire's neck, he tasted it and sensed a hint
of lingering life.  The blade, perhaps, hadn't been in long enough to
kill.  Immediately, he reached for the metal grip and unceremoniously
yanked it out, letting it fall to the floor with a sharp clang.

Stepping forward as LaCroix rolled Nick back onto his back, Schanke
asked, "Can you help him?"  He stiffened as, while the other didn't
look at him, he heard others approaching.  From Metzger's voice, he
suspected it was the paramedics.  More insistently, he prodded,
"LaCroix?  What--"

Just as the mortal paramedics arrived in the room accompanied by
Detective Metzger, LaCroix turned to face Schanke.  When the newcomers
approached, LaCroix sent a bright golden glare at the two mortals,
warning them back.

"What does Nick need?" Schanke asked, getting LaCroix to turn back to
him.  "Blood, right?"

LaCroix turned back to Nick, aware what Schanke was going to suggest. 
His son would get more than enough blood if he allowed these mortals
to help.  But all he wanted to do was to take his son and leave.

"LaCroix?"

Abruptly, LaCroix turned and stood, his icy gaze locked onto the
paramedics' nervous faces.  He approached them and watched as they
shrank back from him.  "You do nothing to him without my permission!"
he hissed, then stepped to the side, leaving the path from them to
Nick open.

The two, one man and one woman, both hesitated several seconds before
going to the other man.  The young man checked for Nick's vital signs,
of which he found none, while the woman started to give him blood.

Seeing the woman reach for a bag of saline, LaCroix told them, "You
give him blood and nothing more."

Both paramedics paused, the man replying, "He's not breathing, has no
pulse, and you--"

"At least allow a saline IV and oxygen," the woman suggested.  "I
doubt either will hurt him."

LaCroix glanced away.  "Fine.  But you give him nothing else."

Standing off to the side, Schanke was tense from the firm tone of
LaCroix' voice.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Detective
Metzger motioning toward the door.  Somewhat reluctantly, Schanke
followed Metzger into the hall, where they then met one of the FBI
agents.

The agent held out Schanke's badge and wallet, telling Schanke, "We
found these in Evans' office."

"Thanks," Schanke said, taking the items and putting them away.  When
the agent gave no sign of leaving, he snapped, "And?"

"Would you come with me, Detective?"

Schanke stiffened, about to protest, but the agent gripped his arm
first, starting him down the hall.  He glanced back toward Metzger,
but the detective didn't follow.

"I assure you, this is nothing to worry about."  Just as the other was
about to speak, he continued, "We'll talk outside."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Schanke stated, but let the other
lead him outside and away from the others.

Once they were standing in the late afternoon sun, just a few feet
from the ambulance, the agent assured, "This won't take long.  I'm
assuming you're planning on accompanying Brabant to the hospital?"

"Maybe."  Schanke's attention drifted to the other vehicles, where it
looked like about six men had been taken from the building.  All of
the men except Evans were calm.

"Well then, quickly answer my questions and we'll see about that."
Getting no response from Schanke, the agent continued, "Is LaCroix
dangerous?"

"What do you mean by that?"

The man pursed his lips, rephrasing, "If Brabant dies, what is LaCroix
likely to do?"

"Well, he won't be happy, but I suspect you know that.  I'd keep Evans
somewhere safe, but then if Nick dies, he's going to have more to
worry about than LaCroix."

At the remark, the agent raised an eyebrow.  "I'm going to disregard
that.  The question is if LaCroix is any danger to those in the
immediate area?"

"At the hospital?"

"Anyone."

"Why do you want to know?" Schanke asked, sensing there was some
reason behind this questioning.

"There have been two similar situations.  The outcomes have been kept
from the news."  Pausing, the FBI agent explained, "Twice in the last
couple of weeks we've discovered nearly dead vampires.  Both times
they were taken to a hospital, and both times the discovered vampire
died, even with care.  After the second death, several of the men that
had taken the victim turned up dead while still in FBI custody."

"So, you want to know if LaCroix is going to go after them if Nick
doesn't make it," he said, nodding toward the unmarked vehicles they
had arrived in.  "Honestly?  You'd be better off asking LaCroix,
something I'd advise against doing just now."  Schanke turned to go
back inside, but the agent stopped him.

"And Brabant?  How likely is he to go after them if he recovers?"

Schanke just shook his head, refusing to answer.  Then, seeing the
paramedics bring Nick out covered loosely with what looked like a
fairly thick blanket, followed by Detective Metzger and a cloaked
LaCroix, he tersely asked the agent, "May I leave?  Or am I being
arrested?"

The agent suppressed his anger, replying, "You can leave," and then
started walking toward his partner and the others.

Looking to Nick as the paramedics put him in the ambulance, Schanke
felt uncomfortable seeing the other lying so very still and covered,
like a corpse.  And then, focusing on LaCroix, he inwardly stiffened. 
LaCroix seemed almost subdued despite the late afternoon sun shining
behind him.  Schanke didn't believe LaCroix' disposition could, in any
way, be a good sign.


Downward Spiral - (24/27)

After arriving at the hospital in Austin, Schanke quickly watched
LaCroix' patience dwindle.  First, the doctors at the hospital
insisted on x-rays.  Initially, LaCroix had outright refused, but
after arguing with the doctors over the multiple, nearly-healed bullet
wounds Nick had, he allowed the x-rays and the surgery needed to
remove the bullets, aware Nick would likely heal faster with the
bullets out.

For a quarter of an hour, LaCroix had paced in the waiting room.  But
after several others became uncomfortable--including the receptionist
and a uniformed officer--Schanke had suggested they go outside as the
sun had set soon after their arrival.  While the change of location
had calmed LaCroix, nearly an hour had passed, which meant he was even
tenser than earlier.

And the worry was starting to rub off on Schanke, as while LaCroix was
no longer pacing, he was.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Schanke caught a dark figure
slipping out of view.  It was Janette.  Going over to LaCroix, he
nearly spoke, but LaCroix turned to look at him.  Schanke then fumbled
slightly as he started, "Uh, Janette--"

"Is here, yes."

"How long?"

Instead of answering, LaCroix glared at the mortal.  Talking was not
what he felt like doing right now; something that at least his
daughter sensed.  Without a word, he returned inside.

Schanke closed his eyes, hoping that neither LaCroix nor any of the
hospital's employees would get too annoyed by the other.

"You are quite a ways from home, Detective."

Turning around and opening his eyes, Schanke found Janette standing
mere feet from him.  She was somewhat unusually dressed--a long, plain
black coat with abnormally simple clothes underneath, also black.  "So
are you."

"Yes.  Until last week, I was in Europe.  Flying among the mortals was
most unpleasant; although, seeing the shock on a few of their faces
was almost satisfying," she said, her tone attempting to be playful,
but both that and a slight smile flickered for a mere moment before
failing.  "Evading them once the plane landed on this continent was
rather...annoying."

"You came here for Nick."

"Yes."  She then looked away, adding in a whisper, "And for LaCroix."

Schanke simply nodded at the addition.

"Detective Schanke?" a male voice came from the hospital doors.

Turning, Schanke nearly snapped at the other until he realised it was
a doctor he had seen earlier.  He momentarily looked to Janette, as
she walked up to his side and the doctor's attention shifted nervously
to her.  "She's a friend."

Glancing at the ground, the doctor refocused and then told Schanke,
"We've moved him to a private room.  Your friend, Mr. LaCroix, is with
him."

As Schanke headed inside, the doctor stopped Schanke, gripping the
other man's arm and telling him, "LaCroix has adamantly refused to
allow us to put Brabant on any kind of life support.  We removed
several bullets from his chest and abdomen and immobilised his neck.
His life signs are very erratic and, generally, nonexistent.  Perhaps
you could--"

Janette stepped forward, focusing her attention on the doctor.
"Release him and take us to Nicolas."  When the man only turned toward
her, she let her eyes glow softly as she repeated, "Release him, now."

The doctor released Schanke just as the woman reached for his wrist.
Nodding toward Schanke with a hint of fright, he turned and led the
two inside.

As they entered the hospital, Schanke slowed and let Janette pass him
in the hall.

Reaching a room with two cops standing on either side of the door,
Janette visibly stiffened.  Mortals, 'guarding' Nick.  She didn't like
it, but knew it was safer for Nick--as well as herself and LaCroix.
She entered the room after the doctor opened the door and pushed it
inward.

Schanke stepped in front of the doctor, just as he was about to follow
Janette inside.  "Unless you absolutely have to do something in there,
perhaps just leave them alone?"

The doctor stiffened, but nodded and left.

Backing up into the room and gently closing the door, Schanke turned
to see Janette standing next to Nick's hospital bed.  LaCroix,
however, was standing looking out the room's window, one hand holding
back thick drapes likely put there just for Nick.

After a couple of minutes of trying to avoid looking at the brace
around Nick's neck, the oxygen mask and the IV line of blood, Janette
asked, "What did they do to him?"  As she waited for a response, she
let her fingers gently touch Nick's cheek.

"Decapitation."

Janette turned sharply toward LaCroix at the whisper, her eyes wide.

"Well, not really," Schanke corrected, a bit nervously.  He watched as
Janette stiffened, but LaCroix didn't budge.  "I mean, it wasn't a
proper decapitation, right?"

"No," LaCroix whispered without turning around.  "He is healing."

"Slowly," Janette softly added, turning back to Nick.  "I've never
seen one of us quite like this."  Straightening, Janette faced Schanke
with a faint smile.  "Thank you for telling that doctor to leave."

Feeling ever more uncomfortable being the only human in the room,
Schanke took a step back.  "I should probably leave, at least for a
while."

"No," Janette commanded, stopping Schanke before he managed to turn
around.  "Nicolas, I suspect, would want you to stay."

At that, LaCroix turned away from the window but said nothing; after
all, Janette was likely right.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Late the next day, very little had changed.  A few hours earlier,
Schanke had left for a nearby hotel after being taken back to the
precinct to get his rental car.

Even LaCroix had left the room.  First, he had left to ensure the only
things the mortals had taken from his son were bullets.  He was
pleased to discover the mortals weren't taking advantage of the
situation.  He had also, later, gone to request blood for Janette.
However, he didn't stray for long on either occasion.

Janette eventually pulled a chair over and sat down.  Initially, she
had refused the unit of blood LaCroix had obtained, drinking it only
after he poured it into a glass and insisted that she take it.
Neither took any time to rest.

Near sunset, Janette tiredly rested her head on the bed, her fingers
entwined with Nick's, as they had been for hours.  Abruptly, she felt
his hand grasp hers, and she sat up to see Nick looking at her.  His
eyes were glazed over, however.  And just as soon as his eyes
flickered open, they again slid shut.

Only when she no longer felt Nick's hand grip hers did she look away
and to LaCroix.  "Why is this taking so long, LaCroix?  If he's
healing, why--"

"Have you ever seen one of us with these kind of injuries?"

"No," Janette quickly answered.  Then, softly, she added, "But you've
managed to recover from...similar injuries."

Not wanting to go into this, LaCroix narrowed his eyes, simply
answering, "Perhaps."

Both vampires turned toward the door as they heard commotion in the
hall.  The problem was a mortal reporter by the sounds of the
argument.

Patience thin, LaCroix left the room and walked the few steps toward
the mortal reporter, cameraman, and the nurse that was unsuccessfully
trying to argue with them.  Pushing the nurse to the side, LaCroix
took the reporter by the neck and pushed him backward down the hall.
Several rooms away, he released the man, simply intoning, "*Leave.*"

The man stood dazed for a moment, the cameraman so shocked he hadn't
even been paying attention.  The reporter silently turned and started
toward the exit.  The ashen cameraman followed a moment later, but
glanced back toward LaCroix a couple of times before turning a corner.

When LaCroix turned back around, he came face to face with the nurse.

She shivered as he walked toward and past her.  Following him to the
room and arriving just as he prepared to shut the door, leaving her in
the hall, she managed to tell him, "I need to check on him."

"He's fine," LaCroix hissed.  "Now leave."

The nurse held her position.  "I'll only be a moment."

LaCroix looked away.  He either needed to let this woman do her job,
or, likely, have her go get another mortal to back her up.  Wanting as
few distractions as possible, he stepped to the side and allowed her
to enter.

Slowly walking up to Nick, the nurse quickly checked to see how much
blood was left and make sure the IV line delivering it was still in
place.  Finished with that, she turned her attention upward, opening
one of Nick's eyes only to jump as he blinked and flinched away at her
touch before again returning to a sleep-like state.

"He is recovering," Janette whispered.

The nurse jumped again as she felt hands on her shoulders.  Slipping
away from Janette, she told them, "I'll be back."

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Returning to the hospital shortly before sunset, Schanke found Janette
waiting outside Nick's room, the door shut.  "What's going on?"

"The nurse retrieved a doctor after Nicolas responded to her
prodding."

"He's awake?"  Schanke reached for the doorknob, but Janette stopped
him.

When the two officers reacted to her action, stiffening and nervously
watching her every move...as if she might abruptly kill someone if
they didn't, Janette gently pulled Schanke away from the door.  Once
she and Schanke were on the other side of the hall and nearly to the
next room, Janette shook her head and told him, "No, he isn't yet
awake."

"Is LaCroix...?" Schanke prodded, nodding back toward the door.

"Yes.  He refused to leave.  A Detective Metzger is also inside."

"Metzger?  Why is he here?"

"Apparently to assess Nicolas' condition."  Then, with distaste,
Janette explained, "The FBI wants a statement as soon as possible, and
they somehow learned that Nicolas was recovering."

"Metzger's on your side."

"I gathered that from LaCroix."  Janette turned away, her eyes fixing
on the door.  "LaCroix is allowing him to stay long enough to question
the doctor."

After a couple of minutes, Schanke started, "So..." but then halted,
stiffening as the door to Nick's room opened.  Metzger, a doctor, and
a nurse then exited.  The latter two left, Schanke's eyes snapping to
the neck brace in the nurse's hand as they walked away.

Janette's attention remained on Metzger.  Nodding at a piece of paper
in his hands, she demanded, "What is that?"

"It's a statement saying that Nick is not to be questioned until he
recovers, with a list of those allowed unlimited access to the room,
which is limited to family.  All other visitors must be approved."

While Janette seemed pleased at the answer and she returned inside
Nick's room, Schanke stiffened.  He wasn't Nick's family; not like
Janette and LaCroix.

"Don't worry, you're on the list," Metzger said with a smile.  More
seriously, he nodded down the hall.  "I, however, am not.  And I need
to get this copied and sent out before it gets any later, and also
before my wife calls again."

Absently, Schanke nodded, his thoughts straying.  Myra had called
earlier that morning, asking if he wanted her and Jenny to come down. 
He had refused.  After all, once he was sure Nick would recover, he
would be returning home.  Nick would surely insist on it after what
had happened.

Tense, Schanke finally entered Nick's room, LaCroix shutting the door
behind him.  The action would have startled him if not for Janette's
voice softly calling Nick's name.  Nick shifted his head as he
approached, but his gaze seemed unfocused.  By the time he reached
Janette, Nick had drifted back into unconsciousness.

Janette left the side of the bed and walked purposely toward LaCroix. 
"Allow them to sedate him, LaCroix."

"I've already given my answer on that," LaCroix firmly hissed at
Janette, resting a hand on her shoulder as he walked behind and around
her.

"A few hours; just long enough for him to truly rest and gain more
strength!"

LaCroix ignored the suggestion.  His son had already spent long enough
sedated or otherwise weakened.

"He doesn't seem very, ah, stable," Schanke commented, turning toward
LaCroix.  But the vampire didn't look at him or respond.

Janette walked up to LaCroix, her gaze harsh.  "He's not."

Tired of Janette's arguing, LaCroix gave a quick glance to Nick and
then left, shutting the door behind him harder than necessary.

Watching Janette return to Nick's side and sit in the chair next to
the bed, Schanke commented, "So, anything new?  Other than that he's
slowly coming around...."

"No.  As you stated, he is not stable.  He has not yet spoken."  Then,
softer, she added, "I still cannot sense him, although I believe
LaCroix can.  LaCroix won't allow these mortals to sedate him due to
his slow and erratic recovery."


Downward Spiral - (25/27)

Not long before sunrise, Schanke was about to leave to get some
breakfast when he saw Janette start quickly for Nick.  Turning, he
walked slowly forward and watched as Nick stiffly moved but easily
managed to pull the oxygen mask off.  When Nick closed his eyes,
Schanke approached further, saying Nick's name.

After taking several deep breaths, Nick hoarsely whispered, "I want to
leave."  He sat up, wincing as his joints moved for what felt like the
first time in a week.  He felt dizzy and leaned heavily on one side
when the feeling didn't pass after a couple of seconds.

Schanke was torn between getting a doctor and remaining.  He did the
latter, although he became worried when Nick pulled the blood-giving
IV out of his arm and started to get out of the bed.

"Rest, Nicolas," Janette said, trying to push Nick back, but he fought
her, pushing her roughly to the side.  Stiffening, Janette reluctantly
allowed Nick to lean on her as he stood.  As he did so, she felt as
though almost all of his weight was transferred to her.

"I want to leave, Janette," Nick whispered into her ear.  "Now."  He
attempted to take a step, still holding onto Janette, but he quickly
lost the strength to hold onto her shoulder.  As Janette tried to
steady him further, he pushed her away.

Schanke stepped forward, catching Nick just as he dropped hard to his
knees.

Nick held onto Schanke, his light-headedness increasing.

"You know, it's generally not a good idea to try and leave the
hospital the moment you wake up from a serious injury."

Nick nodded at Schanke's comment, relaxing as he felt Janette's hands
on his back.  But he then tensed as the feeling vanished and LaCroix
pulled him away from Schanke and into a standing position.  Being
pushed back onto the bed, he instinctively hissed at the sudden
disorientation, but calmed once he caught his breath and his dizziness
faded.  Pushing LaCroix away and shifting so that he was fully on the
bed, Nick remained still at first.

Janette slid in front of LaCroix and gently stroked Nick's forearm,
but he jerked away from her touch.

Several seconds passed, after which Nick reached for the oxygen mask
he had pulled off mere minutes earlier.  Taking a slow, deep breath
from the mask, it was nearly too much and he again pushed it away.
Calming, he asked, "What time is it?"

"A little before six in the morning," Schanke answered.

"How long?"

"About 36 hours since we found you."

Nick turned away.  Then, softly, he said, "I still want to leave
tonight, LaCroix."  Closing his eyes, all he could hear were quick
heartbeats all around.  As someone walked by the door, he heard the
mortal's heartbeat quicken.  It faded, only for the sounds of another
mortal to take the first's place.  "At least out of here."

There was a quick, soft knock at the door, at which a nurse entered
and started toward Nick.  However, the woman then froze as she
realised Nick was awake, watching him shift as she slowly approached. 
As her eyes locked on the undone IV, her hesitation vanished and she
walked toward the bed, putting what this man was at the back of her
mind.  He was a patient and that's how she would treat him.

Schanke backed out of her way, as did Janette.  LaCroix remained in
place, forcing the nurse to walk around him.

Reaching for the IV, the nurse commented, "Good to see you awake."

Nick glared at her, sarcastically replying, "Really."

She tensed and then, holding the needle, told him, "Give me your arm."

Nick looked away.  His hunger peaked as she reached toward him, but he
allowed her to take his arm and reinsert the IV.

The nurse then turned her attention to the oxygen mask, which Nick was
holding against his chest with his other hand.  "How are you
breathing?"

"Fine," Nick stated, although it was a slight lie.  Then, he turned
away and onto his side, pulling the sheet up and over him as he did
so.

Seeing a faint but very fresh scar on the back of Nick's neck, the
nurse reached forward, only for LaCroix to tightly grip her wrist.
She protested as he pulled her away from the bed.

"You've seen that Nicholas is awake.  Now get out!" LaCroix harshly
whispered in the woman's ear and then released her, giving her a small
shove toward the door.  He watched her nervously spin to face him
before she left.

As the mortal left, Janette gently placed her hand on Nick's back,
purposely avoiding the back of his neck and the still healing wound.
After a moment, she carefully moved her hand, touching his shoulder
and the side of his neck, trying to soothe and relax him.  But he
merely tensed further.

LaCroix watched Janette try to ease the tension in Nick's muscles, but
he knew it would do no good.  The younger vampire wanted out of the
hospital, and that was it.  Aware that if he remained he would likely
start an argument with his son, LaCroix stated, "I will return before
sunrise," and then left.

Mere seconds after LaCroix exited the room, Nick pushed Janette's hand
away and rolled back onto his back.  "Go with him, Janette."  As she
started to protest, he told her, "I'm not going anywhere and I'm sure
LaCroix would enjoy your company."

Giving Nick a soft smile, Janette nodded.  As she left, she let her
gaze settle on Schanke as she walked by him.

Once Janette had left, Nick lay still, closing his eyes as he finally
calmed.  He didn't want LaCroix and Janette there, trapped in the room
with him.  All he could sense was their irritation and frustration at
being stuck there, which did nothing to help any of them.

Schanke shifted from one foot to the other.  Now alone with Nick, he
wondered if his presence bothered Nick as much as the nurse.  He was,
after all, mortal.  And Nick didn't even want Janette there, it
seemed.  "Uh, Nick, I can leave if you'd like to be alone?"

Eyes snapping open, Nick immediately answered, "No, Schanke, stay."

Schanke fidgeted a moment longer, but then sat in the chair Janette
had pulled up toward the bed.

Softly, Nick asked, "There's a scar, isn't there?"

"I don't know.  I couldn't really see earlier--" Schanke stopped when
Nick turned his head away for him to see.  And yep, there was a fresh
scar slicing straight across the back of Nick's neck.  "Ah, yeah.
It's probably not healed yet, though, right?  I mean you haven't fully
recovered...."

Nick again laid his head back.  "Vampires don't scar, Schanke."

The comment surprised Schanke, and for several seconds he didn't
comment.  "You guys usually aren't out that long either, though,
right?  So maybe it'll just take longer."

"Maybe."  Nick turned his attention away.  "I am glad you're here."

Schanke tensed.  Nick's voice, firm and unemotional, seemed anything
but happy.  "But?"

"But you have to go back to Toronto.  Tonight or tomorrow morning, no
later."

"Nick, you're not even out of--"

"I'll be fine, Schanke!  But you have your own life."  Nick squarely
faced Schanke, and shaking his head slightly, he told the other,
"Don't come after me again, Schanke.  No matter what you might hear."

Schanke dropped his gaze from Nick.  "I guess it's a bit my fault
you're here, isn't it?  I mean, if I hadn't come down here...."

"It likely would have made no difference."

"No," Schanke started, vigorously shaking his head.  "No.  If I hadn't
been with you, talking to you, you wouldn't have been distracted."

"It wasn't your fault, Schanke; I was plenty distracted by my own
thoughts.  That wouldn't have changed."

"Maybe, but they used me to get you to cooperate."

"Something that wasn't entirely necessary, as they have ways of
disabling us.  If you weren't there, I would have still been
distracted and they could have just shot me with a tranquilliser."
Nick closed his eyes.  He felt no better now than he had when he woke.
He wanted to sleep, and he took a slow, deep breath.

"So, I guess this'll mean goodbye?"

"Yes.  There's nothing you can do to help and you'll be far better off
if you just forget about me."  Nick rolled his head to the side and
gave Schanke a bit of a smile.  "Although, I suspect that won't
actually happen."

Feeling a bit nervous despite Nick's expression, he swallowed and
asked, "You won't, you know, make me, ah--"

Still smiling, Nick shook his head.  "No, I'm not planning on it."
Turning slightly more serious, he added, "It doesn't mean you'll never
hear from me again, just that you shouldn't count on it or think about
it.  Vampires don't mix well with mortals."

"I don't know about that..." Schanke started.  "Really, other than
being vampires, you haven't done anything to mortals.  Well, okay, you
have, but it's not like there's been publicity about people getting
killed or whatnot.  It's more that mortals don't mix well, right?"

Nick considered the thought.  It made sense, really.  It was the
mortals and their reactions that created this mess.  Mortals reacted
emotionally to what little they knew about vampires, filling in the
blanks with their fear.  Eventually, however, Nick had to shake his
head.  "There will always be tension, Schanke.  Always.  Vampires
require blood to survive and our preference is human blood.  That
won't change."

Neither spoke for a moment.  Shifting, Nick gradually sat up, taking
care not to move too fast.  Gesturing to the top of the bed, which was
only very slightly tilted, he asked, "Could you help me adjust this
thing?"

Relaxing at the far more mundane topic, Schanke nodded.  After a
couple of minutes of fiddling--and accidentally adjusting the bed
completely flat--Schanke managed to tilt it up further.

Once Nick had settled back, Schanke told him, "You know, you're one of
the best Detectives I've ever worked with, Nick."

Nick quickly turned away, uncomfortable at the statement, particularly
as he had lied or otherwise broken the law countless times.  He didn't
even always follow the rules as a detective--and Schanke knew it.

"So, ah, when are you going to leave Austin?" Schanke prodded, not
wanting Nick to shut him out.

"As soon as possible.  We'll stay a few days, at most; and then we'll
probably resume trying to stay out of sight for however long we feel
is necessary."

Schanke fidgeted slightly at the 'we' reference.  Nick was of course
talking about LaCroix and Janette.  Faintly, he wondered if Nick had
ever kept in contact with humans like himself for long.  He suspected
not, but now things might be different.  In the past, he could guess
that Nick likely told very few mortals what he was.  But then, Nick
and his kind would now be watched closely wherever they were seen.  He
couldn't blame Nick for wanting to keep hidden and out of sight for a
while, really.

"I do have a favour to ask, Schanke...something you could do before
you leave."

"Name it," Schanke said without a hint of hesitation.


Downward Spiral - (26/27)

Early the following night, LaCroix narrowed his eyes at his son as the
younger nervously sat down.  Nick had dressed and appeared to be
planning to go somewhere.  While the younger was stronger than when he
had left the hospital that morning, LaCroix still sensed weakness in
the other.

Janette also sensed Nick had something planned--as well as LaCroix'
annoyance that Nick had said nothing of it.  As such, she purposely
stayed out of LaCroix' way.

After a few minutes, Nick stood and started silently for the hotel
room door, but LaCroix appeared in his path, stopping him.  "Move,
LaCroix."

"Not until you tell me where you are going."

Nick glared at the other.  "I am going to meet the FBI agents that are
working with the local detectives."  Seeing LaCroix preparing to
comment, Nick explained, "I'm sure they would like a statement from
me; I am merely giving them the opportunity to get it."

LaCroix didn't comment; nor did he move out of Nick's way.

"I have to leave now, LaCroix.  Come with me and stay nearby, if
you're that concerned."  Nick roughly pushed past LaCroix, but wasn't
stopped as he left, leaving the door open.

LaCroix closed his eyes, trying to hold back his anger.  His son did
not have to do this.  It was merely added danger and stress, neither
of which Nick needed right now.  But if the younger man were
determined to do this, he would see to it that nothing more happened. 
He turned to leave, but sensed Janette approaching as he reached the
still open door.  "Stay, Janette," he hissed, and then left.

Nick stayed ahead of LaCroix, who he knew had decided to follow him.
Arriving at the precinct Detectives Metzger and Bryant worked at--a
location he had suspected would be relatively safe--Nick tensed and
landed on the roof of the building across the street.  Reporters were
gathered around the precinct.  They knew he was coming.

As LaCroix landed next to him, Nick simply gave him a glance and then
flew down to a shadowed area next to the building.  Scanning the
mortals, he felt somewhat better seeing Metzger standing outside,
apparently looking for him.  But, still, he would have to pass through
the reporters.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he started purposely across the
street and toward the precinct's entrance.  He ignored the reporters
outright, saying nothing and not meeting even one of their gazes.  He
also didn't drop his focus, instead concentrating on the building and
getting inside.

Metzger stepped behind Nick as he reached the front doors and followed
Nick inside.  "I don't know how they found out," he whispered.  "We
didn't leak it."

Nick didn't reply.  He had a suspicion that the FBI was the source of
the leak, probably hoping to get him to talk to them.  But that's not
what he was there for.  He was there to give a statement and answer
questions regarding what happened to him.

Walking further inside, Nick slowed as all activity stopped.  He let
Metzger walk ahead of him and take him wherever he was meeting the FBI
agents.  He could feel the mortals' fear as he walked through the main
part of the precinct.

Arriving at the first of the station's interview rooms, Metzger told
Nick, "I'm not sure what they're planning on asking, but two other
agents arrived a couple of hours ago."

Nick nodded, at which the detective first knocked on the door, and
then pushed it inside.  Slowly, Nick stepped into the room, keeping
his eyes focused on the two men.  One of them was waiting just inside
the door, and Nick gave him only a quick glance.  The other man, who
was sitting at the table, gestured to the chair across from him.
After Nick sat down, the man he was now sitting across from slid a
file toward him.  Nick's attention shifted toward door as it clicked
shut.

"We were somewhat surprised you volunteered to meet us."

Nick turned back to the man sitting across from him, who had spoken,
their gazes meeting.  "And I'm surprised you took the offer."

"It wasn't expected.  When you vanished from the hospital early this
morning, we didn't expect to hear from you again.  And then your old
partner contacted us through the Austin police."

"And?"  Nick leaned stiffly back.  "If you want a statement or have
questions related to any events that occurred since my arrival in
Austin, I suggest you ask them."

The second agent approached the table.  "I suspect you'd like our
names?"

Nick looked to the other agent.  "It would be courteous, given you
know mine."

"I am John Diaz and my partner is Allan Crawford."

"FBI?"

"Yes," Diaz answered.

"Department?"

"That hasn't been determined, yet."

"So your job is to deal with my kind, then."  Nick looked away,
neither expecting nor needing an answer.

Crawford then questioned Nick about his so-called kidnapping, giving
an overview of what they knew from Austin police and asking if that
information was correct.

Nick didn't make any move to comment as the agents had merely related
his capture along with his condition when they found him.  They had
answered their own question.

"Okay," Crawford started, his voice becoming somewhat stiff.  "I'll
take that as an affirmation.  Now, what do you remember from while you
were held?  What did they do or say?  Anything about the other being
held there?"

Abruptly, Nick's attention snapped firmly toward Crawford.  "What
other?"

Crawford opened the file folder sitting in front of him and pushed a
photo across the table.

Nick looked at it.  All that was visible was a dusting of ashes and a
near-circular metal blade.

"Found that in the cell next to you.  Same device they tried to kill
you with."

Nick pushed the photograph back toward the agent.  "I wasn't aware
that they were holding another vampire."  Then, after a pause, Nick
answered the initial question, "I woke up, was shot, and recovered
only to be shot again and was then drugged."

"Were you conscious at all?"

"Yes.  I later woke to find more samples were being taken.  I was
sedated again, but also given a unit of blood."

After several seconds of silence, Diaz prodded, "And?"

"And I remained dazed until several men held me down, after which the
next thing I recalled was waking up in the hospital."

"Mark Evans," Crawford abruptly asked, meeting Nick's hard gaze as he
changed the focus of their conversation.  "You've met him."

"I saw him, yeah.  And?"

"And we would like you to help us," Diaz answered.

Nick stood up, glaring at the two men.  "He's in your custody."

"And he's been silent."

Faintly shaking his head, Nick stated, "I can't help you."

Diaz smiled and watched Nick tense.  "We think you can.  We've seen
your records with the Toronto Police."

"Quite the interrogator," Crawford stated.

Nick turned, resisting the urge to pace.  As he did so, he shifted his
gaze to the back wall, only to find himself staring into a mirror.  On
the other side, he sensed two mortals watching.  This was why the FBI
was here.  They didn't care about his statement--they already knew
what happened.  He narrowed his eyes, then diverted his attention so
that he was facing the far wall.

"Although we are curious if it's true that your kind can...hypnotise
humans?" Crawford started.  When Nick didn't react, he continued,
"After all, perhaps much of your skill as an interrogator stems from
years of practise as a cop?"

"That's why you came here; he's not talking.  You don't want or need a
statement from me," Nick stated, stiffening.

"Evans is...reluctant," Crawford admitted.

Nick turned toward Crawford.  In addition to a hint of fear, he could
see a trace of embarrassment just under the surface of the mortal's
hard exterior.  They didn't want to come to him.  Slowly, he said,
"You want me to see what I can pry out of him...."

"If you can."

His curiosity mildly piqued, Nick asked, "And just why should I help
you?  What is it you want to know from him?"

"We want any and all information he knows about activities of ex-IVEA
agents and current hunters."  Diaz paused, stalling, not thrilled
about having to persuade this vampire, this man, to help them.  "There
are several laws in various stages of enactment.  One makes killing,
hunting, or otherwise endangering vampires for unsubstantiated reasons
illegal in the US.  Other countries are preparing similar laws, but
the majority of hunters appear to be operating from North America.  We
want to find as many as we can before they further disorganise and
form smaller, autonomous groups."

When Nick didn't comment, Crawford pointed out, "It is beneficial to
your kind to help us.  I'm sure you can see that."

Nick again looked away, pacing slightly.  This was something he hadn't
expected, not at all.

Crawford stood and, once Nick's attention had settled on him, he
stated, "Be at the FBI office in San Antonio at 6 a.m., or don't.
It's your choice."

"That's less than an hour before dawn," Nick commented.

Sensing the vampire's annoyance at the time, Crawford explained, "It
should give you plenty of time to question him, if needed."

Stiffly, Nick averted his gaze, listening as Crawford picked up the
file and left with what he assumed was his partner.  As the door shut,
he sensed as the two mortals in the adjoining room also left.

Only once Nick was sure they weren't lingering, waiting for him, did
he leave the interview room.  He met Detective Metzger's gaze, but
just long enough to give a slight nod before he headed toward the
front entrance.  Nick once again passed through the mortals and,
exiting the building, found it harder to face the mortals.

He would have flown off right there, but didn't want to give the
mortals yet another thing to broadcast.  And they would, as no vampire
had yet been recorded flying in public.  Instead, he headed through
them, his mind lingering a bit longer on their questions.  They knew
he had spoken with FBI agents; but it was also clear they hadn't
gotten any answers from Crawford or the others.

Finally free of the mortals, Nick fought the urge to shut his eyes and
pause for a moment.  Being completely surrounded by so many warm
bodies had triggered his hunger, and if he lingered any longer they
would surely catch a second of his golden gaze.  He quickly started
for the building's corner and, as soon as he turned it, took to the
air.

Nick flew several blocks before landing in a tree-heavy park.  Seconds
later, after LaCroix arrived, Nick explained, "They want me to
'interview' one of the hunters."

"You won't, of course."

Nick had known LaCroix would disapprove.  And hearing it did nothing
to help him decide.  "I don't know."

"But you're considering it.  You can't be serious," LaCroix hissed,
hoping this was just a thought, a whim.

"It could be useful to us, for vampires."  Nick paused, gathering his
thoughts.  "If they get the information they want, they'll be able to
stop far more of those hunting us."

LaCroix closed his eyes and took several steps away from the younger
man.  "When?" he demanded, spinning back around.

"This morning; 6 a.m. in San Antonio."

"You'll have to stay the day with them."

"I know."  Nick walked over to one of the trees.  Turning, he leaned
against the trunk.  "That's what I'm not sure about."

LaCroix' eyes glowed amber with anger.  "Stay here.  I'll get
Janette."

Nick stood and flew toward LaCroix, taking his arm.  "LaCroix--"

"We'll leave for San Antonio.  You can decide there."  LaCroix pulled
away from Nick and headed back to the hotel.


Downward Spiral - (27/27)

Come six the following morning, Nick hesitated, staying out of sight. 
There was no one in front of the FBI office.  The question was, did he
really want to do this?  And what else would they ask of him?

"Yes, or no?" LaCroix asked, moving to stand behind Nick.  "You must
decide."

Nick nodded.  "I'm going."  And then, after a short pause, Nick
glanced both ways down the street and slowly made his way out among
the few mortals on the sidewalk.

Crossing, Nick approached the front of the FBI office at which Agent
Diaz came out the front doors and walked over to him.  Agent Crawford
held the door open, apparently waiting for them.  Trying to relax,
Nick walked ahead of Diaz into the building.

Inside, Nick was surprised to find the building nearly empty.  True,
it was before office hours, but with him coming he had suspected more
people would have been present.

"We're going to the second floor," Crawford said, taking him through
security and pushing the button for an elevator.  As the doors opened
and he stepped in followed by Nick and Diaz, Crawford stated, "We only
have one rule for you:  You keep your distance.  You don't touch him,
for any reason."  The elevator doors slid shut.  "You injure him in
any way; he's not happy, we're not happy, and you won't be happy."

As the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, Diaz got off, but
Nick hesitated.  Seeing this, Diaz asked, "What?"

"Nothing," Nick muttered, keeping a tight control on his anger.  After
several seconds, he followed the agent.

They walked to the end of the hall, at which Crawford noted, "Your
conversation is being recorded, both audio and video.  If he asks why
you are here, you are aiding us in an official capacity; say nothing
more than that."

A bit annoyed by all the 'suggestions', Nick decided it was best not
to argue lest he make these agents change their mind about having a
vampire help them.  Would he do as they were asking?  He wasn't sure
of that, only knowing that his hatred of mortal hunters was currently
high...and Evans was certainly a hunter.

Crawford opened the door, pushing it inward.  Instead of entering the
room, however, he remained in the hall and gestured with his hand for
Nick to proceed.

Nick slowly walked into the room, hearing the door shut behind him.
He didn't have to turn around to know that the two agents had stayed
in the hall, leaving him alone with Evans.  He was faintly surprised
by that, but his expression remained cold and fixed entirely on the
mortal before him.

Evans, his arm in a cast and a sling, remained extraordinarily calm as
the other approached the table and the chair directly across from him.

Nick rested his hands on the top edge of the chair's back, his gaze
not shifting.  "This must be hard for you," Nick stated, smiling at
the irony compared to just a few days earlier.  When Evans smiled
faintly back, giving the impression that he wasn't going to cooperate,
Nick gave a quick flash of his fangs.  As intended, the action upped
Evans' heart rate, and Nick let his expression go completely serious. 
"I'd suggest you start talking."

"You can't make me.  Not without damaging your facade."  Evans smiled,
declaring, "You can't touch me."

"Maybe not.  *But you will answer my questions.*"

Evans sat completely still for several seconds.  Then, as an odd and
oppressing sensation crept up on him as he focused on Nick, he shook
the feeling off before he once again smiled.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Barely more than an hour later, after mostly useless questions and
prodding, Nick had to take a break.  He had quickly discovered that
Evans was particularly resistant to his abilities, and he was growing
tired.  There were now far more mortals in the building, which made
regrouping his thoughts difficult.  He was somewhat thankful Diaz and
Crawford had allowed him to use one of the conference rooms to rest in
with few interruptions.

The door abruptly opened behind him, snapping Nick out of his
thoughts.  He turned, only to find agents Diaz and Crawford entering,
the latter shutting the door loudly behind him.  Nick stiffened as the
agent sat what was clearly his Toronto Police badge and weapon on the
table.

"Last night, Detective Metzger told us that he gave LaCroix both his
and the remainder of your things.  LaCroix left those behind."

Nick shook his head, looking away from the items.  "Return them to
Toronto.  I doubt I'll be going back there for some time and they're
no longer of use."

Diaz nodded, taking the two items.  Then, he stated, "You were seen
arriving this morning."

"And?" Nick asked, not looking to Diaz.

Stepping toward the table, Crawford leaned forward on the surface so
that he could look directly at Nick.  "And you've gotten nothing out
of Evans," he stated, straightening and walking away.  "Maybe you
can't do what you're here for.  Maybe you never could."

"Is that what you think?" Nick started, standing and walking toward
the agent.  Sensing Crawford needed a demonstration, he then turned
his attention back to Diaz, his eyes sparkling with a hint of
pleasure.  "*You haven't had enough coffee this morning.  You will get
yourself and your friend, here, some hot, fresh, coffee.  You think
some fresh air is in order, and so you will go down the street.*"
Nick stopped, his lips twisting into a smile at the glazed look on the
agent.  Diaz was, thankfully, far from being a resistor.

Not showing any sign of shaking the suggestion off, Diaz muttered,
"Coffee," as he turned and left.

Turning toward a stunned Crawford, Nick asked, "Satisfied?"

Hesitating, his attention drifting toward the door, Crawford
commented, "He doesn't drink coffee."

"Then I suppose you should mention that to him when he returns?" Nick
replied, still grinning.

Crawford's eyes narrowed, his distrust rising and shock wearing off.
"If you can do that to Diaz, why haven't you been able to get Evans to
spill it?"

"Some humans are more susceptible than others."

"And those that aren't as susceptible?"

"Can't be given a...complete, permanent suggestion."

"Which means?" Crawford demanded, stepping toward Nick.

"I'll have to change tactics."  Nick sat back down and leaned back in
the chair.  Although he was particularly tired, he closed his eyes as
he rested his hands in front of him, hoping Crawford would get the
hint and leave.

Almost two minutes later, Crawford finally left, shutting the door
sharply in frustration.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Once Nick was sure plenty of time had passed, specifically enough time
that Evans would be growing tired from waiting, he went to Crawford
and Diaz's office.

Getting the go ahead to again question Evans, Nick re-entered the
interview room.  The mortal's anger teased his hunger, at which Nick
allowed his nature to subtlety take over.  Fluidly, he walked to the
table and pulled the chair out.  He kept his eyes focused fully on
Evans, his gaze not wavering in the slightest.  Sitting down, Nick
leaned back in the chair and relaxed.  "*You're tired of this.*"

"Yes.  Of course I am.  It's useless."

"*No, not useless.  But it is a waste of time.  Both our time.*"  Nick
paused, trying to keep his expression neutral.  "You do know you'll
just be questioned later.  Or they'll find someone else.  *And do you
think they'll be as gentle as I am now?*"

Evans went completely silent.  His eyes belied neither fear nor
arrogance.

"*The FBI knows where your kind operates.  They'll hunt you just as
you hunt my kind.*"

"And?  Why should that concern me?"

Nick paused, thinking for a moment.  That's what Evans needed--a
reason to make this seem beneficial.  Nick's eyes flashed gold, but
only for a second.  "*You want a reason to cooperate?*"  Stopping,
smiling slightly as the other waited, expectantly, Nick then asked,
"*What is better?  Attention drawn to the FBI for shutting your kind
down quickly, or the very likely blood-tainted news as your people are
slowly arrested?*"  Again pleased that Evans remained silent, he
continued, "*Do you have a purpose, or are you just a crazed fanatic? 
What about the others?  Fanatical hunters don't make good press,
Evans.  Your kind could use some boost of your image.  Of course,
you're one of the fanatics, aren't you?*"

Evans looked away.  He had asked for a reason and that's what he got. 
"And if I cooperate?"

"You'll have to arrange that with the FBI."  Nick then stood and
pushed his chair in, letting a bit of his hatred for this man to
surface.  Then, he left.

Once the door was pulled shut behind him, Nick closed his eyes.
Influencing someone without making it too obvious was far more
draining than he remembered.

Crawford and Diaz appeared from down the hall, the first commenting,
"That was impressive, especially after earlier."

"You still have to convince him it's worth it.  And take care what you
say.  He may or may not have realised my influence."  Nick turned,
planning to walk back to the other room, but felt a hand on his arm.
Turning toward Diaz, he let his eyes glow amber.  "I've done what you
wanted," he hissed, pulling out of the light grip.

Diaz didn't break eye contact with the vampire.  "And sunset is hours
away."

"And?" Nick demanded, his gaze remaining icy.  "Are you suggesting
that I am not allowed to leave before then?"

"No," Diaz answered.  "You can leave now, although I doubt that will
help you avoid the reporters outside."

Nick fought against his frustration, as well as his growing hunger and
tiredness.  He wanted to leave, but if there were reporters outside it
would be difficult.  He would have to wait until sunset, unless he
wanted to risk being both seen and followed.  As another mortal
approached them in the hall, Nick closed his eyes, holding back his
annoyance.

"We will have to give a statement for why you were here," Crawford
stated.

"Then do so."  Nick turned to head back to the other room, but
Crawford stopped him.

As the vampire pulled out of his grip, Crawford stated, "You were
never cleared of Dr. Lambert's death."

"And?" Nick asked, hissing the word at the agent.  He was hungry and
did not wish to be questioned about Natalie's death.  It was still far
too fresh, the last months having passed so quickly.  Firmly, Nick
told Crawford, "I didn't kill her."

Crawford hesitated, not expecting the other's reaction.  "We are aware
of that," he started, and then explained, "If you'd like, we will
clear your name of her death when we make a statement."

Nick relaxed slightly.  They wanted to clear his name?  In the back of
his mind, his thoughts hooked on whatever reason he could think
of...but when it came down to it, it was for their benefit.  By
clearing him, it would make their reasoning for having a vampire help
them easier for the population at large to digest.  His anger again
rising, Nick told them, "Tell them whatever you want," and headed down
the hall and back to the conference room, wanting to be alone.

*+.*+.*+.*+.*+.

Meeting up with LaCroix and Janette a couple of hours after the sun
had set, Nick barely gave either of them a glance.  While Janette
seemed concerned, he could feel conflicting emotions from LaCroix.
Abruptly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and tried to turn around.

"Stay still," LaCroix hissed.  He then pulled Nick's collar down to
see how the scar was progressing, at which he faintly smiled and
commented, "It's healing quite well.  I suspect it'll be completely
gone within the next day or two."

Nick roughly pulled away from LaCroix, not wanting to think about this
right now.  Why couldn't LaCroix wait?  As he again felt LaCroix' hand
on his shoulder, the touch this time far lighter, Nick immediately
took off.

Landing in a quiet residential area several miles away, Nick paused on
the edge of two properties.  As the other two arrived, he was glad
that Janette remained silent, but he sensed that LaCroix was not going
to leave him alone.

Watching his son walk away from him, his motions sluggish, LaCroix
commented, "You are tired."

"And?" Nick snapped.  He was tired and really didn't feel like talking
right now.  Staying up all day had drained him of energy, even with
sleeping some the previous night.

"And I think it would be best to remain here for the night, feed, and
then leave tomorrow."

Stopping, Nick closed his eyes, bowed his head, and nodded slightly.
Only when Janette approached and wrapped her arms around him did he
relax.  He leaned back into the comforting embrace.  Nick remained in
place for several minutes, basking in Janette's silence and their calm
surroundings.

Suddenly, at the edge of his senses, Nick's peace was interrupted by
snippets of news coming from a nearby house.  Already fully aware of
what would likely be broadcast and wanting quiet, Nick abruptly flew
off.

Janette left with Nick, but LaCroix lingered behind.  He, too, had
noticed the slight disruption.  Closing his eyes, LaCroix focused on
what was apparently a news broadcast:

"--was seen this morning arriving at the San Antonio FBI offices.
Throughout the day, questions regarding Brabant's clearly expected
presence were not answered.  Just after sunset this evening, FBI
Special Agent Allan Crawford issued a statement, calling the meeting a
request by the FBI for clarification.  When asked the topic of
conversation, Agent Crawford told reporters, "Mr. Brabant merely gave
us an official statement on his recent kidnapping and other
experiences.  We also questioned him for clarification of the events
surrounding Dr. Lambert's death in May of this year."  The FBI has
refused to detail anything more, although they did state that the FBI
discovered files containing "condemning evidence that the then IVEA
was behind Dr. Lambert's death," and that "Brabant has been officially
cleared of all suspicion in the case."  Brabant was not seen leaving
the building this evening, but Agent Crawford stated that he left at
sunset."

Hearing the reporter shift to related news, specifically various new
laws and amendments in congress that pertained to vampires, LaCroix
started slowly walking in the direction that his son had headed with a
smile gracing his lips.  The younger vampire was hungry and heading
out of the city.

Later, he would have to tell his son he had nothing to worry about,
that the broadcast had been benign.  First, however, they needed to
feed.  And once they were rested, then would come deciding where to
leave for the following night.


Finis

Hope you enjoyed the story!

Any comments, suggestions, gifts of chocolate, cures for sun
sensitivity, vampires, job offers, etc., more than welcome!

As a note, no infringement or other harm is intended to the real KLEW,
which is actually in Lewiston, ID.  Just thought it'd be interesting
to use instead of making something up from random. :P

jarvinia@gmx.com
http://gryffonslair.com
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