These characters do not belong to me, they are owned by Sony/tristar and I
expect to make no profit from the sharing of this piece.  All feedback is
appreciated.  ;-)
 Valentine's Lair
Joy Powell 2001



      Natalie switched on the recorder and drew the sheet from the woman's
body.  " Victim is Caucasian female, approximately twenty five years of age.
Both wrist have scabbed over abrasion marks indicating they were inflicted
at least a day prior to time of death.  Bruising around throat coincides
with  manual strangulation."  Natalie froze.

      Two hands gripped her own neck, the icy thumbs caressing up and down
her carotid artery.  "Do go on Doctor."   Lacroix.  His velvet voice sounded
from just above her left ear.  Natalie closed her eyes and swallowed back a
scream.   Where was Nick when she needed him?

      "What do you want Lacroix?"   There was no doubt that he could hear
the frantic beating of her heart, but giving into that fear would only get
her one thing.  Dead.

      "I want many things, Doctor Lambert.  The question is,  what are you
willing to...sacrifice?"   He turned her to face him, and she looked into
the golden eyes of the vampire.  Not the blue of normal,  something was
wrong, very, very wrong.

      "If you're looking for innocent maidens and sacrificial lambs you came
to the wrong room.  The chapel is upstairs.  Now if there's no other reason,
I do have work to do?"  She could have sworn he'd winced for a split second
before his mask slipped back into place.  What's going on here?

      "I came to extend an invitation to the Raven this evening,  we have
much to discuss."  He stepped back and fingered his cufflink without
breaking eye contact.  "You are quite correct Natalie...there are no
innocent maidens here.  Don't disappoint me."   She was looking straight at
him and didn't see more than a blur of his departure.

      She sagged against the wall and stared into the empty space he had
occupied.  If he didn't kill her outright, the bastard was destined to give
her a heart attack.

      The humor,  however inappropriate, helped her to pull her few
remaining nerves back together.  The corpse on the exam table wouldn't wait
much longer before starting to ripen,  and it was bad enough now.  She
finished the autopsy in silence preferring to write down the notes rather
than risk a repeat performance.   As with the other two women that had come
in this week,  she was in her twenties,  Caucasian,  large amounts of
amphetamines in her system,  and dead.  The hair color had varied from the
other two, but otherwise the builds were the same.   All three were
sacrifices to the same twisted man's obsession.  She signed off on the sheet
and gave up for the night.  It was a little after two a.m.  and she had a
lot of thinking to do. "Grace,  if Schanke comes down,  these are the
reports.  I'm booking off for the night."

      Smiling Grace took the files,  "Okay, have a nice evening Nat.  This
wouldn't have anything to do with a certain blond detective calling earlier,
would it?"  Her eyes held a wealth of knowledge.

      "Wait a minute -- Nick called?"

      "About three hours ago,  I put the message on your door."  The smile
was gone replaced with confusion.

      Lacroix had taken it, grand.   "Did he leave a number or was he at
home?"

      "A number,  hold on I have the yellow copy around here somewhere."
She grabbed the message book and flipped through it.  Her face went blank
when she couldn't find it.  "I don't understand,  it was here, Nat. The
entire page is missing."

      My, HE was being thorough tonight, wasn't he.  "Don't worry about it.
One of the interns must have used it for scrap paper.  I'll try his cell
phone."  She left before Grace could say anything else.  Tonight was not
turning out to be one of her best.  Whatever LaCroix wanted, he was
determined to get it.

      She stepped out of the coroner's building into the fog-darkened night.
The traffic was dead in the background.  Only the street lights high above g
ave off bits of flickering light. She considered walking right back into the
station and grabbing one of the uniforms for an escort.  Too bad it wouldn't
do any good.  If LaCroix wanted her dead, she would be dead.  Having a
policeman die with her wasn't going to help matters.  She yanked the keys
from her purse and walked to her car.  There, on the windshield was a single
luminescent white rose.

      Why couldn't she get flowers for normal reasons? Nick could have given
her flowers years ago, but no.  She gets them as a form of death threat from
his families' patriarch. She looked around the dim parking lot, debating the
merits of taking it, or leaving it behind on the pavement.   The second
option was more appealing, but dangerous wouldn't begin to describe it.
Suicide came closer.    She grabbed it and flung it to the passenger seat.
Damn him for this.

      It was after two and the Raven would be closed to public business.  He
would be waiting for her.  She pulled the car out of the parking lot,
driving slow in the fog.  What did he want?  Nick was gone, so it wasn't
something she'd done to his son this time, nor was he around for Lacroix to
torment by playing with her.   Whoa...Stop.  She frowned as she pondered
being a toy in whatever psychotic schemes he had planned.   But did he?  Don
't be stupid Nat, of course he has something in mind and she would either be
the bait or the main course.   Yet, here she was going to the lion's den.
The only way she could see getting through this was remaining in control of
her emotions, both anger and fear.

      The lights were dim outside the nightclub.  The door was closed, and
the neon sign on the grooved cement flickered.   She pulled up next to the
entrance and turned the engine off.  The deserted street was an unwelcome
testament to the lack of help around her.  This was it.

      No noise came from the building other than the buzzing of the pink
light above.  Steeling herself, she knocked on the cold metal.  It swung
open a fraction of a second later.  The tall bartender gestured for her to
enter.

      "Come in, Ms. Lambert,  the General is expecting you in back.  If you'
ll follow me?"

      She nodded.  The room wasn't filled with people, but there was enough
sound coming from those present that the building had to be soundproofed.
Even more damning, there wasn't a single tan in residence.  Most of them
were appraising her with brazen hunger.  After noticing that, she hurried to
catch up.  Better the devil you know.  She hoped.  LaCroix would never allow
someone else to claim his dinner.  It would offend his ego.

      The barristo escorted her to one of the rooms behind the bar and left.
The oak door clicked shut, leaving her alone.  It was a huge room, complete
with a kitchenette.  Leather bound books lined most of the walls.  They
emitted an odor...of antiquities.  Also known as a dry mold.  Not unlike
their owner.   For the first time since entering the club, she smiled.

      "You smile Doctor?  I was under the impression you did not like my
company."  His velvet voice came from across the large room.  He'd been
there the entire time, managing to blend in with a ficus tree.  Watching
her.

      "I don't."

      He gave her a brief nod.  "Would you care for refreshment? Please have
a seat.  We will be here a while tonight."

      She would match his polite tone for now.  When he felt like it, he
would let her know why she was here.  "Tea would be fine." He took the cup
down and started fiddling with the tea pot. From his occasional glares this
was not one of his normal tasks. Confidence was such an inherent part of
him.seeing him fumbling with a tea bag was almost humorous. Good, let him
suffer this time.

      "The tea belongs to Nicholas."

      Was that an explanation? And why did Nick keep tea here she wondered?
She took the scalding cup from him. "Thank you."

      He gestured to the lounge chairs. "Sit. For the moment you have
nothing to fear." He waited for her to sit before claiming his own chair.
His typical black suit hugged every curve of his muscular body. In another
life she would admire it. Now she ignored her libido. He steepled his
fingers in his lap and stared at her in contemplation. "Has Nicholas
informed you of our laws and what happens if someone is careless enough to
break them?"

      So now they came to the reason she was here. "Yes.  Since I cured the
fever, I thought I was passed that consequence?"  After she'd saved so many,
Nicholas had relaxed around her.  They both assumed she was safe from the
enforcers now.  No one could consider her a threat.  So why did he bring
that back up?

      "How naive."  The harsh tone made her draw back.  "Your actions have
brought a great deal of attention to you.  The council has indeed sent along
their gratitude."  His mouth clenched for a second and his eyes bore into
hers.  "They also included a strong," he paused, "request."

      Natalie translated the last to 'order'.   She doubted the council of
elders requested anything.  "And Nick is not the one telling me this...why?"

      His brows arched.  In surprise or frustration she couldn't tell.  "Ah,
yes, Nicholas.  Like always, my son has run from his responsibilities."  His
disgust over his prodigal son's actions still apparent, he continued, "His
exact words before retreating to parts unknown were 'She's better off dead.
If you want it done, you do it.'"

      The tea sat forgotten half way to her mouth as she digested his words.
There was no question what he implied.  She swallowed.  "You've been ordered
to bring me across."

      "No one is stupid enough to order me to do anything.  They told
Nicholas to do it."

         "Oh."  And Nick had once again abandoned her.

      "Indeed."   She tensed as he rose from his chair.  Looking down at her
from his impressive height, he smiled.  "Calm yourself, Doctor."  He walked
to the counter and poured the green bottle of private stock into a wine
glass.

      "What are you going to do, LaCroix?"  She watched his full lips sip
from the glass.  His eyes didn't change.  Nick's would be glowing by now.
But, she acknowledged, Nick had a great deal less self control.

      "Lucien, my name is Lucien.  As for what I am going to do, you have
one week, Natalie.  Then you will be joining my family.  Put your affairs in
order."  He finished off the glass in one gulp.  Now his eyes were glowing.
In anticipation, she wondered?  "You will receive a job offer from the
DeBrabrant Foundation.  I advise you to take it and inform your coworkers of
the transfer.  I will not allow a police investigation into your
disappearance."

      She sat there stunned.  Everything was planned out already.  If she
agreed to this, next week she would be immortal.  Did she want that?  If it
was Nick offering, the answer would be yes...wouldn't it?  But he didn't
care enough to offer.

      What did it matter?  Nick wasn't here.  LaCroix, always dependable to
make life a living hell, was.  She would be a fool not to take him up on it.
The hand brushing the hair from her neck shocked her.  She hadn't been
paying attention.  "I thought you said a week."

      "I did."  He continued stroking her hair.  The touch mesmerizing in
its simplicity.  She didn't pull away. "Nicholas is a fool."

      The words were quiet, but she had no doubt he meant them. "If you
think he is such a fool, why do you want him back? He's fought you over a
century. Why not just let him go?"

      His hands stilled, resting on her shoulder. "I will never 'just let
him go'. He is my son. No sane parent sits passive as their child attempts
suicide."

      Her skin prickled at the sense of danger now emanating from him. She
hit a nerve better left untouched.  He cared.  The untouchable LaCroix
cared.  She doubted he would ever say it outright.  Odd that he'd even
allowed her that much insight.  Blinded by the obvious, she hadn't seen the
signs.

      Striking back, Lacroix demanded, "Why do you care?  Your golden knight
has abandoned you to the cruel whim of fate.  If he believes this existence
is so much worse than death, why does he not put you out of your misery?  If
not through death, then why is he not here to defend you?"

      Natalie paused, considering how to word this without further angering
him.  "I care because I choose to.  Nick may have abandoned me, he may not
have.  If he did, his cowardice will not be mine.  I understand loyalty
Lucien. It is not turning your back at the first sign of weakness."

      "Impressive.  Not many would grasp that.  If you consider it, you've
answered your own question.  Loyalty;  It is more important, more dependable
than the strongest protestations of love.  It gives a mere soldier more
power than the greatest of betrayed generals.   It saves a son from his own
stupidity."  He collapsed into his chair and stared out at her from those
ancient blue eyes.

      Natalie nodded.  The tea was cold now.  She swallowed it down like a
bitter medicine,  the faster the better.   The antique clock on the wall
read half after four.  The sun would be coming up soon.  Standing, she
placed the empty mug on the table. "I should go."

      "How remiss of me.  I neglected to mention you will be staying here
for the remainder of the week."

      Whatever calm she'd expected to retain flew out the window, along with
most of her common sense.  "What!?"  She shook her head,  and stepped back.
"No.  I am not staying here.  I have a cat."  Oh god, that made a lot of
sense.  She could have smacked herself right then and there.  A cat? What
the hell kind of argument was that?  "I have to feed my cat."  Oh, that was
so much better.  He looked on in bemusement.

      "Your cat will be brought here then.  Problem solved.  Your room is
through that door."  He pointed to the recess near the ficus tree.

      "No."

      "What other reason do you have then?  I do hope it is as easy to solve
as your feline dilemma."

      He was rubbing it in.  Wishing him dead on the spot, she started
walking to the exit.  When he stopped her, she glared down at his hand on
her arm.  "Force, my how the mighty have fallen.  In case you hadn't
noticed, let me make this very clear.  I do not like you, I do not trust you
and there is no way in hell I will ever sleep with you. "  Her bloodshot
eyes met his in defiance. "If I must stay here,  tell me why."

      He laughed, the sound rolling down her back.  "My dear Dr. Lambert,
had I wished you in my bed, rest assured you would be there.  The reason is
Nicholas.  He may find some remnant of his meager allotment of courage and
come back to 'put you out of your misery'  I hope to avoid that."

      She shook her head.  "Not good enough.  If Nick was going to kill me,
he would have done so long ago.  Try again."  She pulled her arm away from
his loose grasp.

      "You are wrong.  He has a habit of killing the objects of his dubious
affections.  True they have not lasted six years before,  but you have
something that he wants more than your fragile body."  He ran his finger
over her collar bone. "A cure, the promise of death."

      Her nose flared at the scent of roses.  "Any doctor could try to cure
him.  He knows that.  He could find another to do the job in a week.  It
wouldn't even be necessary to reveal the origin of the virus."

      "I will not debate the point. You will stay here, or if you insist on
fighting, I will bring you across tonight.  Which shall it be?"  He whipped
his arm around her, pulling her back against him.  The lightning fast change
sent her endorphins through the roof.

      What else could she do?  She wasn't ready. How bad could it be to
sleep in his guest room?  That would give her six more days to think of a
way out of this.  Better than digging the hole now and jumping in.  "Fine."
She spat.  "You win.  Satisfied?"

      "Of course.  Now follow me."  He backed away and held his arm out to
escort her.  His face blank as he waited.  Back to the gentleman, she
reflected.  God only knew what a psychiatric profiler would come up with on
him .  It might be better not to know.

      She didn't bother to smile when she took his arm.  Her fingernails
digging through the fabric of the soft black silk, trying to reach the
smooth skin beneath. "Lead on."

      His other hand came up to cover hers,  the gentle pressure a reminder
not to anger him.  The bare lift of his lips accepted her unspoken challenge
as he led her to the room.

      It was a bordello.  Red carpet ran from one red pinstriped wall to the
other.  Hanging over the silk encrusted king sized bed was the largest
chandelier she'd seen outside an opera house.  The dresser was gilted in
gold.       She pulled her jaw back into the closed position and turned
frantic eyes to her host.  "Is this some sort of sick joke?  Let me guess,
it was the coroner in the whore house with a wooden stake?" Natalie shook
her head, "You can't expect me to sleep in this, this room."  Unable to
think of the appropriate word she flung her hand out from his to wave at the
eyesore in front of her.

      LaCroix walked around the room, his feet sinking into the two inch
deep carpet. "You do not care for the decor? Pity, Jeanette will be
disappointed. She gave specific instructions to the decorator about your
tastes." He pointed one manicured finger towards the bed. "She was most
adamant about that piece of artwork."

      Natalie glared at him in disbelief. "Do not act innocent. You knew I
wouldn't care for it." When he gave no indication of hearing her she stalked
to the bed from hell. "Just forget it. It's late and I want you out of here.
She flung most of the mountain of pillows to the floor. They could stay
there, for all she cared. A sick portion of her mind hoped they'd cost him a
couple hundred dollars each. "Now where are my PJ's? Since you didn't give
me any warning of the slumber party at Count Dracula's house, I wasn't able
to pack a bag."

      "PJ's?" He'd stopped by the dresser about five feet from her. He
genuinely looked confused.

      "As in flannel, not silk, and not lingerie." She had confidence he
would be able to figure out the definition on his own.

      "Ah." Enlightenment dawned and he rummaged through the top drawer. He
held up on bit of flimsy white material. Turning it in the light, he looked
at her in question. "I take it then, that lace is out as well, Doctor?"

      She didn't answer, the look on her face saying it all.

      He frowned and stuffed it back in. "You will have to go through the
rest of that on your own. I am not your maid. If you don't find something in
there, go to bed naked. I couldn't care less." With that he stalked out,
slamming the door behind him.

      Well, well. Was he angry, disappointed or uncomfortable? She stared at
the still vibrating wood. Nah. She'd bet her entire pension he'd fled in
embarrassment. The smile started small and grew to encompass her entire
face. Good. She hoped it would keep him away for the rest of the night. For
one so concerned over Nick's courage, he's almost run out that door. Fine by
her, she could find her own pajamas.

      She kicked off her shoes and padded across the luxurious carpet to the
god awful dresser. The only thing that could have made it worse was a pair
of fuzzy dice hanging from the overlooking mirror.

      Her hand trembled as she pulled the top drawer open. With one eye
squinted, she peeked down at the contents; silk, lace, leather, and ick of
all icks, fur.

      Plaid! Her hand couldn't move fast enough to pluck that one promise of
hope from the vulgar mess. Woohoo! It felt like flannel! Life was good. She
held it up and shook it out. It was a miniskirt, without the back, complete
with thong. Sick schoolgirl uniform came to mind. She sighed and shoved it
back in. There was not one single scrap of fabric she would be caught dead
wearing.

      The second drawer contained the essentials of every hotel room; soap,
shampoo, toothbrush kit and lubrication? She shook her head. Next time she
saw Jeanette, they would be having a discussion, a long discussion.

      Without bothering to look in the third drawer, she took out the
toothpaste and went in search of a bathroom. There were just some things she
did not want to know.

She poked her head out the door, praying the coast would be clear. No such
luck, he sat in the large padded chair reading. When she stepped out onto
the cold marble floor in her bare feet, he looked up.

      She held up the toothbrush. "Where is the bathroom?"

      "There is one in my room and another in the main part of the club.
Mine is the safer of the two. Go now, later I will be sleeping." He put the
book down and regarded her. "If you must wake me later, knock on the door.
Do not come inside uninvited, I trust you would not care for the
consequences."

      A number of distasteful images came to her mind for that one. "Not a
problem."  Being a horrible morning person was something she could
sympathize with. Why else would someone volunteer for the night shift?

      LaCroix contemplated her retreating back, it would have to be done.
The kitchen cupboard provided the clean wine glass and without pausing he
bit into his wrist and held it over the cup.  When it was half full he
pulled it away.  A bit of wine mixed in for flavoring and it was good to go.
With any luck she wouldn't notice.  It was too bad, he reflected, the Dear
Doctor would not see things his way, but the bond was necessary.


Begin chapter 2

      His bathroom took her breath away.  A hot tub big enough for six sat
on a raised obsidian dais.  Unlike her room, roman frescoes covered these
arching walls, depicting a time long dead.    Potted plants stood throughout
the beautiful structure,  droplets of moisture clinging to their emerald
leaves.  This brought back to her sharp, and clear, just what and who she
was dealing with.   Those Grecian pots were not reproductions.

      She brushed her teeth and started combing through the thick curls of
her hair.  A knock interrupted her mid-stroke.  Think of the devil, she
thought,  and he shall appear.  "Come in!"

      He walked in carrying two wine glasses, both full of a dark red
liquid.  He held one out to her, his expression carefully blank.  A half
remembered night at Azure surfaced for a brief moment.  She looked in
suspicion at the liquid.  "Are you going to drug me again?" It was a test of
her memory, and of his reaction.

      "So you do remember that night; or at least parts of it.  And yet,
still you came."  He nodded to her in respect.  "No, I give you my word, I
did not drug the wine this time.  I but wanted to propose a toast, and then
retire to bed."

      So it  was real.  She concentrated, trying to recapture the memory,
but even that small wisp disappeared.  Wary, she took the wine, and waited
for whatever deep philosophical toast he was in the mood to provide.

      With a half smile that did not reach his eyes, he held his own up.
"To family, and the bonds that tie them together."

      "To family," She echoed and drained the glass in a deep swallow.  Too
late she realized what he'd done.  The metallic sweet taste of his blood
burned a trail over her tongue, the flames shooting down her throat.

      "Lucien?" She gasped.  Her eyes sought his in a wordless plea.  The
taste remained, imprinting itself on her tongue, on her very soul.  "Why?"

      He took the empty glass from her unresisting fingers.  "You know too
many of our weaknesses.  I entrusted my own safety.  You will feel the link
soon."

      Her physician's training took over.  What did you do after ingesting a
poison?  Induce vomiting.  She pushed past him, almost running to the
toilet.  Her finger was half way down her throat in moments.

      "It is too late Doctor.  The damage is done."  LaCroix's words
caressed  through her mind.  So it was, his lips hadn't moved.  She rocked
back on her heals, as a barrage of images assailed her.  There was no way to
control them, and no time to attach meaning to the mess.

      She told herself the tears running down her face were from the gag
reflex.  LaCroix made no mention of it as he wiped them away with his
handkerchief.   She could feel his triumph rolling over her,  mixed with a
small amount of concern.

      The gentle kiss to her forehead took her by complete surprise.  Had
the porcelain seat not been behind her, she would have fallen.   The
emotions coming from him were as mixed as her own .  Well, at least she wasn
't the only one to be surprised she thought.  But enough for one day, she
had her limits.  Having him declare any feeling for her besides distaste,
was beyond those limits by more than a couple light years.   "I think you've
done enough.  Get up.  I want to be left alone."

      She could sense his growing anger, good.  She let her own have full
reign.  He'd gone too far this time.  They could have this fight.  Bring it
on, oh bastard of the roman brigade.

      "Do not order me around Natalie.  You could not survive the fight, and
I assure you my parents, such as they were, married many years before my
birth."    He held a hand down to her, letting her take it if she wanted.

      Rolling to the side, she stood glaring at his outstretched hand until
he withdrew it.  His help was one thing she did not want.  "If the seduction
doesn't work go straight for intimidation.   Real good there.  Sure to win
over any woman's heart.   Has anyone ever mentioned,  you leave a lot to be
desired?"  She focused on a dew drop hanging from the jade plant above him,
willing it to fall.

      "That has not been one of my complaints.  It is late,   Dr. Lambert.
We can continue this discussion later."  He turned his back on her, pulling
the armani's jacket off.  "Goodnight."

      Natalie debated the merits of staying.  She had no doubt he would
continue preparing for bed right there in front of her.  Complete strip
tease, just for her, free of charge.  Her courage gave out and she fled.
His laughter followed out the door.  A fight she could have handled, but
what do you do when he strips instead?  Like any good girl, run the other
way.

      After an hour of staring at the ceiling in her room, she gave up.
The main room was deserted this time.  She looked through the books on his
shelf.  If she was going to be stuck in that room all day, she needed
something to do.  The chances of her getting any sleep were almost nil.   He
had a huge collection of history and philosophy.   Roman history made up the
bulk of it.  Hmm, she wondered, would he tell her?  It wouldn't hurt to ask.
She walked to the closed door.

      "Hey LaCroix, when were you born?"  She didn't shout, but with his
hearing, she didn't have to.   A long pause followed.  Would he answer?

      "Thirty eight."

      She puzzled over that one.  It was no use.  "What century?"

      "38 AD Doctor.  Now may I go to sleep?"  His exhaustion poured over
into their link.  He didn't even want to know why she was asking him, he
just wanted his sleep.  Answering must have been his fastest alternative.

      "Yes, thank you."   She searched through the Roman books closer.  Most
were written in Latin, but there were a few in English.  She settled on one
by Robert Graves.   History of Rome circa 50AD.   It might give her insights
into her companion.

      She removed her belt, and settled into bed.  For this one night, her
work clothes would double as pj's .  She cracked the book open,  smiling at
the handwritten notes and corrections written into the margins.  Most of the
writing was small and precise, with some of the more flamboyant script
bleeding into Latin.  The gross errors she wondered?

      A few hours into the book, her eyes drifted closed.  The tome fell
forgotten onto the blanket beside her.

      The sound of two thousand screams filled the street around her.  The
air ate incinerated the lining of her lungs while burning ash melted through
the skin of her sandal covered feet.  The impact of someone running full
tilt into her knocked her down to the rough stone below.  She blindly
scrabbled to regain her footing in the maelstrom.  Blood from her knees
trickled down in a cool rivulet to calm the blisters already forming on her
calves.

      She looked around frantic for escape, but the solid blackness extended
forever.  She questioned if her eyes had burned beyond usefulness.   Running
blind away from where she instinctively knew the fire came from, she tripped
over the still form of a body.  Unable to stand this time, she crawled over
it, huddling against it's side for whatever protection it might afford her.
Her hair was gone.  No, not gone, just short.   Curling into a fetal
position she screamed out her own agony and terror.

      The echoes of the sound jarred her to immediate wakefulness, as did
the door crashing into the wall.  LaCroix stood there,  looking haggard,
dressed only in a robe.  Blood sweat dripped down his body.   Her heart
pounded against her ribcage in panic.

      "LaCroix?"

      He closed his eyes, and nodded.  "Perhaps it would be best to not read
Roman history before bedtime.  Are you well?"

      "I've been better.  I didn't read about that last night.  Caligula is
where I left off."  That had to be a volcano or a bomb.  If he said Roman
history caused that, she stopped,  considering.  "That was Pompeii." It wasn
't  a question. "You were there."

      "Yes.  I had the questionable privilege of an eyewitness view to the
fury of Vesuvius.  You should not have seen that."  He ran his hand through
his hair.  "Come, unless you prefer to return to your dreams, there is much
to be done tonight."

      Natalie didn't have to be told twice.  That was one dream, she hope
never to return to.  "So, no complimentary breakfast in bed?"

      Brows raised, LaCroix swept his appraising eyes over her.  "An
interesting proposal Doctor.  Although I appreciate the offer,  now is not
the time."

      Men. She laughed, at herself, at life.    "I've heard that before.  It
's never time with Nick either."  Pulling herself out of bed, she did her
own appraisal.  Wrinkled,  if she went into work in these clothes, Grace
would think the worst.

      "Ah, so you prefer a man of action?"  He leaned against the door
frame,  arms crossed.

      "No.  I prefer scrambled eggs and hot chocolate.  Do you have
anything, besides blood in your refrigerator?"  She swept past him and
headed for the kitchen.

          He followed slowly behind.  "I will have Miklos bring something
up."  He stretched over her shoulder to grab a bottle of his own breakfast
from the top shelf.  The soft cloth of his robe brushed against her face.

      She ducked away from the unexpected closeness.  "Will I be able to
talk to Nick tonight?"

      "He may not wish to speak with you now."  LaCroix set the bottle down.
His hand reached towards her hair, before drawing back.  "Try to call him,
your messages are by the phone.  Do not be surprised if the gallant Knight
refuses to answer."

      "Thank you."

      He smiled.  "You may not think so after your conversation, however,
you are welcome."  He drank straight from the bottle, his eyes never leaving
her face.

      She was the first to turn away.  True to his word, both copies of the
message leaned against the antique black phone.  She picked up and dialed
the odd numbers,  three high pitch tones answered.  "This number cannot...."

      Before it could complete the recording she hung up.  Why did that
pitch have to be so high?  If the frown on LaCroix's face was any indication
he didn't like it either.   She dialed a one this time.   She managed to
hang up  by the second tone.

      "LaCroix, where is he?  The number isn't working."

      "Lucien."  Automatically correcting her, he looked down at the paper.
"This is the number to my house in Paris.  He's staying with Jeanette."  His
smooth pale fingers grabbed a pen and  jotted down a few more numbers at the
beginning.  "It will work now; if you still wish to call."

      Jeanette, Natalie fumed.  A bad comic book scene flitted through her
mind.  Meanwhile the hero abandons the maiden to the evil wiles of the black
clad villain,  and enjoys the ministrations of the beautiful French
temptress.  She hoped he was enjoying the sex, as that was the only person
he'd be getting it from.   Breathe, Natalie, she told herself.  It doesn't
matter.  Just because they are together in Paris, doesn't mean they are
together in other ways.

      On the third ring, Jeanette picked up.  A mumbled "Allo?" made it over
the wires.

      "Hello, is Nick there?"  There, that was civil enough wasn't it?  She
avoided LaCroix's eyes as she waited.

      "Mmm, hold on."  She heard the hand over mouthpiece and a rapid
feminine whisper in French.  "Yes, Natalie he is here.  Would you like to
speak with him?"

      She bit her tongue against the automatic 'duh'.  "Yes."

      "Natalie!"  His voice came on less than a second later.  He sounded
more than a little tired.  So they were together.  From the sound of things
she'd managed to catch them in the middle of together.

      "Hello Nick.  How's your vacation?"  She kept her tone light,  just
polite interest.  More than that would be too painful.

      "Fine.   Nat,  we need to talk, are you at your apartment or work?"

      Oh boy, did they ever need to talk.  A mental nudge told her not to
let him know who she was with.  She grimaced.  How to answer that one.
"I'm at an apartment."  Honesty was always the best policy, right?

      "Good."  He paused, voice quiet. "Nat, it's not a vacation,  I've
moved on.  I faxed Cohen my resignation this morning.  It should be on her
desk by now."

      She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.  "Oh."  LaCroix had
told her the truth then.  "So that's it then?  Everything we've worked for
is over?"  She blinked hard,   "We're over?"

      "I'm sorry.  I couldn't...it was too hard to tell you in person."  His
voice was hoarse.   In the background on his end she could hear the slamming
of a door.  Jeanette?

      That was just too bad.  She dashed her unwanted tears away with her
hand.  Rage was taking the place of hurt.  There was no way she was letting
him off easy this time.  "Why Nick?" She demanded.   "Why now?  Were you
afraid I might cry on your shoulder or beg you to stay?"  She let a small
amount of contempt through.  "Could you still say goodbye then?  Or is that
what you are afraid of?"

      "Yes!  I left for your safety.  If I had stayed I would have killed
you, or perhaps worse.  You don't want that Nat.  Enjoy your mortal life,
forget about me.  Forget about the community."  The voice on the other end
was small now, sounding choked up in his own grief.

      Give me a break Nick, she fumed.  "How do you know what I want?  You
never once asked me what I wanted.  It was always what you wanted.  I gave
up six years of my life for you.  Did you ever even ask yourself, what I
wanted?  Did you think it was a Dear John telephone call?"

      "I will not damn you. " His voice was dead serious now.  "Don't ask it
of me.   You are too good, too light for this miserable existence.  You know
what I've gone through to regain my mortality, and you want this?"

      Great, back on the unreachable pedestal again.  She shook her head,
sick of his reasoning.   "You know something Nick, you don't have it all
that bad.  I don't think you believe it either, or you would have gone
sunbathing in Maui a long time ago.  Eternal youth,  never worrying about
the newest strain of virus,  and all the time in the world to do whatever
you want;  not such a bad trade for staying out of the sun.  Not a bad trade
at all."

      She noticed LaCroix's absence for the first time.  Just as well.
Enjoyable as staking him, or anyone would be, Nick was her preferred target,
one sharp toothpick at a time.    "You could have told me goodbye.  You owed
me that much."

      "I am telling you goodbye.  I love you Nat, and I am so sorry things
didn't turn out better.  Someday you will forgive me."  His beloved voice
sounded so broken.  But it didn't fix anything.  Just made things so much
worse.

      "No,"  She leaned her forehead against the wall in defeat. "No, I
won't.  It's not enough Nick, not nearly enough."  She gently hung the phone
back into it's cradle and allowed the tears to flow.


Begin Chapter 3

      "As you requested, Doctor, scrambled eggs and hot chocolate."  LaCroix
's powerful figure, came through the main door dressed to the nines.
She swung away, wiping at the evidence of her tears.  Knowing him, seeing
her cry would just give him more fodder.   It wouldn't do for him to see her
this way.  "Thank you."   Striving for composure, she took the heaping china
plate.

      How many eggs did they think she could eat?  There must be at least
ten piled on there, smeared liberally with ketchup.  Wait a minute.  Hold
up.  With last night's episode still firm in her mind, she poked her fork at
the red coating.  When that didn't give her the answers she sought, she
lifted an experimental bite of the stuff to her nose.  It smelled like
ketchup.  With the tip of her tongue she tasted it.  Yep, that was ketchup.

      LaCroix had a small choking fit.  Great cover.  She wasn't buying it.
The creep was laughing.   She reviewed the image she must have presented
him.   Okay, so he had a reason to laugh.   Snorting eggs wasn't a normal
reaction to a hot breakfast.

      She shoveled the forkful in.  At least he hadn't laughed outright.
So far, he was being entirely too nice this morning.  Why?   After
everything else in the last twenty-four hours, she didn't know if she could
handle anymore of his plots.   She closed her eyes to focus on their new
link, but he'd closed it to her.  Whatever thoughts went through his mind,
remained his own.   His calm face gave no indication,  if anything he looked
distant.  It just wasn't fair.

      The clock gave her about an hour and a half until her shift started.
She knew the station would be in an uproar tonight.   With both Nick and her
turning in their resignations,  people would assume they were leaving
together.   She rubbed the bridge of her nose.  Should she encourage that
belief?  It gave a  reason their coworkers would accept without question.
The office pool was for when it would happen involved every uniform on night
 check.   It was the ideal solution.   A few painful congratulations and
well wishes to endure, and it would be over.   Grace and Schanke posed the
biggest threats to her control.  Breaking down in tears might not fly, and
conversely, assault charges from Schanke might be difficult to explain.
Now, for some physical evidence.  She looked down at her bare finger.

      "LaCroix...Lucien,  we have an hour before my shift starts.  Let's go
shopping.  I need a ring."  She made a mental addition of clothes to the
list.

      He shook out of his reverie to look at her in confusion.  "Pardon?"

      She decided not to take pity on him.  "Well, If I'm getting married, I
need an engagement ring.  Don't you think?"

      "Married?"  He regarded her with an expression that clearly questioned
her sanity.  "Might I ask who you were planning to marry?"

      "Didn't you hear Nick propose?  It was in the middle of sex no less."
Her voice reflected some of the hurt from that horrible phone call.

      Comprehension began to dawn, and she felt him double checking through
their link for confirmation.  An evil thought brought a huge smile to her
lips.  "You wouldn't happen to know one of Nick's credit card numbers would
you?"  By god, she was going to make him pay for this.

      LaCroix threw back his head and laughed, the sound rolling through to
their link.   "Ah Doctor,  you shall make a fine addition indeed.   I'm sure
I have his mastercard around here somewhere.  Would you prefer a large
diamond or a colored gem?"

      She thought for a minute.  "A diamond and six blood red rubies." One
for each wasted year.

      The meaning wasn't lost on him this time.  "Good choice."  He grabbed
her hand in an iron grasp.  She jumped at the sudden action.   His eyes
focused on her ring finger,  the tips of his fangs just peeking past his
lips.   "A size six will fit.  Let me call my jeweler, he will have it ready
when we arrive."  Hitting autodial he released her with a smile.  "Try to
remain calm,  the link is making control, difficult."

      That was supposed to calm her down?  Was he out of his mind?  She
pulled her hand away.   Somehow, she didn't doubt his word, but do you tell
a prisoner that if they don't fear, they don't die?  No.  That just gave
them something else to fear.  Damn, damn, damn.    His eyes were glowing
now.  Think, something mundane.  Such as the fact he had a personal jeweler
on autodial?  How did one manage that?  Must be nice to be rich.  See? Nice,
calm thoughts.

      "Good evening, this is Monsieur LaCroix.  I need you to fill an order
for immediate pickup."  He paused,  waiting for the person to get paper.
"A size six platinum band, studded with a two carat quality 'H' diamond,
surrounded by six matching half carat rubies.   I will be there in
forty-five minutes."   There was a hint of warning in his voice.   She
revised her earlier opinion.  It must be nice to be rich, powerful, and
scary as hell.

      He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair.  His slow perusal
started at her rumpled hair, and worked its way down to her bare feet.  She
blushed.  Great, that was supposed to be Nick sitting there, looking at her
with sex in his eyes.  LaCroix, she wasn't sure what her feelings about
LaCroix were yet.  Not the same as they were last night, but not sex.
Definitely not love.

      Her eyes met his and the bloodlust slammed through their link.  The
pounding of her heart changed to echo his in a subconscious dance of death.
Her eyes fixed onto the smooth column of his neck and the slow pulse just
under the thin layer of skin.  It would be so easy to bite into that rich
fountain.  Already her fangs tingled in need.  She ran her tongue over them
in anticipation.   Fangs?  Something didn't click in the small remnant of
her conscious.  What the hell was going on?  She didn't have fangs.  Her
nose flared and the delicious smell of his blood became overwhelming.
Unable to stop, she launched herself at his throat, not knowing why, just
knowing that she had to do it.  The pain would stop then.

      LaCroix caught her easily.  He pushed her mortal body against the
counter and leaned his face into her wrist.  The feel of his soft lips sent
tingles down every nerve ending of her body.  Electricity shot through her
bloodstream.  She knew he was going to bite, could feel her fangs, his
fangs, it didn't matter, parting her skin.  Rapture, the hot blood gushed
into their link sealing it forever.  It pulsed around them, flowing through
the bite in her wrist, completing the circle.  She felt herself screaming
and didn't care.

      All too soon, he broke away and licked her wrist with his rough
tongue.  Not unlike that of a cat, she compared.  The grin only made the
comparison more apt,  a Cheshire cat to be exact.  He support her the few
steps to his chair,  eyes still glowing.  She didn't feel like resisting.
In five minutes she planned on killing him, but for now she needed the help.
Dizzy from the blood loss, she swayed against him.  Why wasn't she dead?
The link was there in the background, a steady white noise just waiting to
be activated again.

      "I gave you a week Natalie.  I always keep my word, but there will be
allowances made."  He licked a stray droplet of her blood from his chin.

      "What did you do to me?"  She didn't care that her voice shook.
Hell, her whole body was shaking, what was the difference if her voice did
too.   She knew she'd been in his head, that was his reaction, not hers.

      "I have started the process of bringing you across.  Until it is
complete, you are mine, in body and soul.  Do you realize what that means?"
He made her look at him, not just the speck over his shoulder, but at him,
right between the eyes.

      "No.  You tell me what it means."  She pushed all of her betrayal into
her eyes,  "I can't handle anymore surprises,  tell me what is going to
happen."

      "You will feel my needs, all of them, as your own.   I will block some
of it, but when you call to it as you did tonight, that will be the result.
There is no turning back now.  You are mine Doctor.  In a month unless I
finish the job, you will be quite,"  He paused rolling his tongue over the
word, "mad."

      Fear shot through her.  Dead, she could handle that.  Death was
something she dealt with every night.  Immortal?  Again, she could live with
that, no pun intended.  But insane?  No, she'd rather jump from the CN tower
onto the waiting cars below.   "You will finish the job, right?"

      "You have my word Natalie.  I look forward to it."  He gave every
indication of wanting to do so now.  The gold shimmered under the crystal
lake of his eyes, dancing, just waiting it's chance to be free again.

      Odd, how something so unnatural could bring her comfort, but it did.
One less thing to worry about.  That still did not excuse him from attacking
her.  Or was it her attacking him?  Either way, his fault.  Her wrist still
bled, two thin rivulets trickling down to drip onto her wrinkled suit.  She
stood, thinking to clean and bind the wounds.  She didn't make it more than
five feet.  Enough time to murmer, "Catch me" before making a nose dive for
the marble floor.

      Seeing it hurtling to her face, she shut her eyes, not wanting to
look, not wanting to feel the impact.  Once again, LaCroix saved her.  She
was going to have to thank him for this later.  Even if it was his fault.

      "Careful.  Perhaps it would be in your best interests to call in sick
tonight Dr. Lambert.  Physician heal thyself as they say."

      "No." She only had one week left with her friends.  Even if it meant
torture to see them, she had to do it.  "No, I'll be fine in a few minutes.
Just get me bandaged up."

      He nodded, and rose in fluid grace.  "As you wish."  He retrieved a
first aid kit from his room and returned to her side.  She watched in
silence as he went through the box in perfect ease.  His expert motions as
he cut the gauze and measured the tape spoke of an intimate knowledge in her
tools of trade.  What an odd contradiction.  He could be a doctor.

      "I have been many things Natalie, a doctor is but one of them.
Eternity is a long time to be a general."  His expression never changed,
just calm, serious.   He taped the  binding all around her wrist, his
movements firm and completely professional.   Whatever passion he'd shown
earlier was gone as if it had never been.   That he read her mind again
disturbed her, but for now at least, he was on her side.

      "Here, try to stand, hold on if you have to."  He gripped her good
arm, and supported her under the armpit.  She leaned up, into the cool
confines of his body.    Together, with her arm thrown over his shoulder,
they made it to his couch.  This close, the smell of roses and his
aftershave enveloped her.   When he released her, a small part of her missed
the contact.  Must be the link she thought, and swore.  She didn't want to
have contact with him, much less miss it.

      The cold wetness of her sleeve made her look down.  Had she not known
better, it could have been a botched suicide attempt from the amount of
blood saturating the material.   It had soaked up nearly to her elbow, half
way around on both sides, with a few drips onto the trousers.  No way could
she go out in public with these.  Someone would call the police or the
ambulance in a heartbeat.

      She should go to the hospital, but how would she explain this without
her coworkers thinking her suicidal, or the victim of a vicious attack.
Schanke would just love to haul LaCroix downtown.  Two day ago she would
have agreed with that just on principle.   Hell, she would have asked them
to put him in a room with a view.

      "How kind of you."  The drawl voice spoke from above her head.  She
looked up into his fierce frown,  her captor didn't appear happy.  Oops, she
really needed to learn how to block that link.

      "I didn't invite you in, so don't get pissed when you hear something
you don't like.  What did you expect to find after lying to me, nearly
killing me, and invading my mind?  Warm fuzzy thoughts?  Go buy a clue."
She snapped the last out, wishing she was strong enough to make a grand exit
through the door.  But if his outraged expression was an indication, next
time she made a nose dive for the concrete, he'd step out of the way.   The
grand exit could wait.

      "I have not lie to you."  Angered sincerity oozed off of him.

      Great, a practiced liar.  Hmm, who would have guessed.  She  snorted.
"How about not drugging the wine?  Ring a bell?"

      He cocked a brow and smiled at her. "There were no drugs in your wine
last night."

      "You spiked it with your blood!"  She could still stake him for that
nauseating deception.

      "Ah.  But, you did not ask me about blood, just drugs.  There are no
drugs in my system."

      So that was how he was going to play this.  He should have been a
lawyer.  On second thought, he probably was at one point.  "Can we skip the
semantics debate?  You knew what I was asking."

      "Really Doctor, I can not help it that you do not ask the right
questions.  However, your mortal job will not wait for us to continue this
debate.  Stay here, I will find something appropriate for you to wear."

      She sat in silence, glaring after his solid back.  He was right, damn
him.  That made it worse.  Being wrong was not one of her strong points.
She tugged off the shirt before it caked onto her skin.  The blood had
already hardened the silk in some parts, and left a sticky trail on her arm.
Rubbing it away didn't help matters, the stain was still there, bright
against her pale skin.  She needed a bath.  Too bad she was in no condition
to give herself one.  The hot tub combined with her low blood pressure was a
drowning just waiting to happen.

      After about half an hour, she started tapping her feet with
impatience.  She was going to be late unless he showed up soon.  With one
arm holding onto the couch for support she forced herself to stand.  If she
couldn't do this, she might as well call in sick.  The world tilted a
little, but it didn't spin.  Good.  She forced herself to take a cautious
step forward.  That's it, one step at a time, Nat.  She refused to depend on
LaCroix all night.  There, she'd made it to the counter, and all of her
senses were still in good working order.  Now, where did he put his rags?
She tugged open all the little cherry drawers beside the sink and found them
folded in the bottom.

      When the tap water was hot enough she soaked the white washrag in it
and scrubbed her arm.  Over and over again she rinsed the now pink rag until
she felt clean.

      "The consequences for not obeying can be...deadly."  LaCroix's pale
figure stood just inside the doorway.  A silent predator, waiting in the
dark.  He put his armful of clothes on the back of a chair and stalked
across the room to her.   Now what had she done?  The very real danger of
him killing her hit when he was about eight feet away.  It was the look in
his eyes, the resignation and the calculating anger.

      She jumped back,  hitting the refrigerator with the bare skin of her
shoulders.  The scream surprised her.

      Smiling cruelly he reached out a finger to her chest.  "Nice.  For
this view, I could almost forgive your disobedience.  But we both know this
display is not for my benefit."  He dragged his fingernail lightly over her
skin, tracing along the veins.  Like a deer caught in the headlights, she
could do nothing but stare.  Why was he doing this?

      "Do you truly not know why I am displeased?"

      She shook her head, mute.  Had she purposely done something to piss
him off, she wouldn't be stupid enough to stick around for the
repercussions.

      "I ordered you to remain where I left you.  Yet, I return to find you
leaning over the sink with blood dripping from a rag."  He tilted her chin
up to face him.  "Never. Disobey. Me. Again."  Eyes wide she nodded.  Don't
argue with the man holding the gun.  He released her, and stepped to the
side.  "Good, Doctor.  Now go get dressed,  unless you want attentions of
another sort."

      She didn't need to be told twice.  Somehow the material didn't rip in
her haste to put it on.  LaCroix couldn't be faulted in his taste.  The
black, of course it would be black,  suit was the perfect feminine match to
his.  It was almost too nice to wear at work.   She went to check herself in
the mirror.  Very nice.

      "Okay, lets get this show on the road."  She grabbed her pursed and
came around the corner.  LaCroix waited for her by the door with a small
velvet box in his hand.

      "Enchanting.  Madam, I would be honored if you accepted this token of
Nick's affection.  He paid dearly for it."  LaCroix snapped the box open to
reveal the ruby and diamond engagement ring.  With care for her injured
wrist, he slipped it onto her left ring finger.

      Hell, she hadn't thought of that.  The jacket covered the bandage when
it hung down, but everyone needed to see her ring for the rest of this
charade to work.  There was no way she could hide the injury now.  In the
next fifteen minutes she had to come up with a believable excuse.


Chapter 4

      "Sidney did it,  he was," Natalie coughed, "uhm, hungry."  Good thing
she wasn't hooked up to the polygraph machine, the bells and whistles would
be throwing a party about now.   Her face betrayed nothing.  Sometimes she
was better at lying than her erstwhile patient, Nick.  Whether or not that
was a good thing remained to be seen.   Good old Natalie Lambert,
pathological liar and doctor for the undead.

      Schanke frowned. "You should get him checked for rabies.  That's a
nasty bite."

      "You're right, he should be checked for rabies.  I'll mention it to
him next time he bares his fangs.  One frontal lobotomy coming right up."
She turned back to the corpse on the exam table.  "Any word back from Sualt
Saint Marie on their unsolveds?"

      "No,  the victims match up, but the killing stopped before they found
a suspect.   Whoever is doing this, moves fast.  Vancouver had a few similar
four months ago.  Might be coincidence, might not."  He poked at the
magnifying glass.  "What's that?"

      She looked through the glass at the exposed brain matter.  The
fluorescent lights gave off a surreal glow, and there, just where Don was
pointing was a single hair, dyed red with blood.  "Ooh!  Good job Schank."
She grabbed the evidence bag and tweezers.  "You may have found a part of
our killer."

      The hair did not belong to the victim. One the color was wrong.  In
blood, dark hair was still dark hair,  but blonde hair saturated the color
into it's very fibers until you could barely see it.  This hair was blonde.
The victim was brunette.  And two,  the length was short by at least a
meter.

      She held the strand of hair up with the tweezers in triumph.  "About
four centimeters, with the follicle still attached.  Forensics will love you
for this."  She sealed it into the plastic evidence bag.   Something about
the hair bothered her.  It looked an awful like LaCroix's.  Then again,
straight blond hair must take up one fourth of Toronto's population.  She
was being paranoid.

      Schanke moved out of her way. "So, when's the wedding,  I didn't
receive an invitation?  I mean, you think you're his friend, but when he
wedding comes around, he doesn't even bother to send an announcement."
Poor Schanke, he wasn't the only one who would never understand.

      "We haven't set the date yet.  But, when we do, you'll be one of the
first to know."

      "Yeah.  Like I was the first to know about his resignation?  He never
said a thing.  I heard it from Cohen."  The betrayal leaked into his voice.
Natalie cringed as a part of her died inside.  Oh, Nick, what have you done?

      "I can't tell you how sorry I am for that Don.  Nick's never been good
at saying goodbye."  My that was the understatement of the year.  She sent a
silent prayer up for patience.  Nick owed her big time for cleaning up his
mess once again.

      "Don't apologize for him, Nat.  He's a big boy."  Schanke collected
his files from the desk and walked out.  Lips parted in a silent plea to
stop, Natalie stared after him.  He deserved the truth.  But there were some
truths that could never be shared.  She'd seen him angry plenty of times,
just never like this.  Not this quiet defeat, and there wasn't a damn thing
she could do about it.

      "Well Ambria, see what men bring us?"  She scraped under the victim's
right index fingernail and added the results to a slide. "Is it worth it?
They say 'love makes the world go round',  but what happens when it spins
out of control?  When the centre cannot hold?"

      She peeked at the slide remembering one of the times she'd spoken to a
corpse and had it answer back.  "Not so bad really."  Ah, if only she'd
known.  How innocent, how naive.

      Just dirt, this killer left nothing here, no skin, no blood.  "Things
fall apart, Ambria.  You've met your second coming, and it's not worth it."
So not worth it.  "What made you worthy of his special treatment?  Did you
promise the impossible, a cure for his madness?"  She turned the light from
the magnifying glass off and stared into the darkness at the pale body of
the young woman.  She might have been pretty once, the gaping wound to the
forehead ruined that.

      Why had she been different from the others?  Strangulation was the
perps method,  but Ambria receives a blow to the head with an ax.
Otherwise, the wrist abrasions, the torture marks all lined up.  Same guy,
but the violence  had escalated.

      Grace chose that moment to pop in.  "Hi Nat.  Why are you sitting here
in the dark?  Everything okay?"  Her chocolate brown eyes were the
friendliest Natalie had seen all night.  There was no blame in them, not for
Nick leaving, and no condemnation for taking a higher paying job.  Just
concern, and true friendship reflected in their depths.

      "I'll be all right Grace, the case is getting to me."  A safe
believable excuse.  How many of those had she given out this evening alone?
Twenty?  Thirty?  She'd lost count.

      "Cases never get to you, girl.  You cut up dead people every night,
I'm not buying it.  Now what's the real problem?"  Did she mention true
friend?

      Bless you Grace. "I'm going to miss you, and everything.  I'm moving
up, and getting the best detective in the world as a partner for...eternity.
I should be happy."

            "About time you figured that out!  You make the perfect couple.
Enjoy your life, you deserve it.  Don't worry about us."  Grace pulled her
into a huge bear hug and Natalie let herself enjoy the rare comfort.  "I'll
miss you too, but we're just a phone call away."

      "Thanks Grace, for everything."  She didn't want to let go.  There
wouldn't be many hugs coming her way in the near future.  Reluctant, she
dropped her hands away.

      "No problem.  How did he propose?  I want details! What did he do?
Did he drop to one knee?"  Grace sounded like a giddy schoolgirl.  Natalie
couldn't help laughing caught up in the fantasy.  Now what embarrassing
tidbits did she want to give to the station.

      "Okay, hold on, let me put Ambria away and I'll tell you all about
it."  Natalie slip the body back into the locker, while Grace grabbed a
chair.

      "It was done in true knight fashion.  He invited me to dinner at the
Azure.  We wined and dined for hours.  At the end he pledged his undying
love on bended knee.  Everything was fine til he broke out the handcuffs."
Natalie smirked at the shocked expression of her captive audience.

      "What?  Handcuffs in the middle of the restaurant?"
      "Yep."  Natalie strove to keep her face straight,

Nick was going to hate her if he ever got the nerve to show back up here.
"He handcuffed and placed me under arrest right in the middle of the room.
Then, he started reading me a very unique version of my rights!"  She
paused, as though trying to remember his words.  Oh man, was he ever going
to hate her.  "You have the right to say yes,  any other answer will be held
against you in my bed.  You have the right to a priest or a judge.  If you
cannot afford one,  they will be appointed to you at my expense.  Natalie
Lambert, will you marry this poor excuse for a man?"   She turned her bright
smile on Grace.  Just the facts ma'am, honest.

      "How romantic!  Oh wait until I tell everyone!  We have a bachelorette
party to get planned.  What do you think, Friday is your last day, so
Saturday, and we'll combine it with a going away party?  Say yes, Nat, it
will be perfect!"

      Natalie leaned back weighing her response.  LaCroix planned on killing
her Saturday night.  It was the last day of her mortality.  Could they do it
after the party?  Seize the day Nat, he might not like it, but he didn't
live this long without learning to adapt.  "Yes,  invite everyone, even Don.
We can use the city hall ballroom, and hire in the music and catering.  Nick
will be happy to pay for it."  Providing he hadn't put a stop on the credit
card by then.  If the resulting grin had traces of evil in it, Grace didn't
comment.

      "Great, I'll get right on it.  We're really going to miss you Nat.
Now what kind of stripper do you want?  Wonder what the fee for Mel Gibson
is?"

      Natalie choked on that tempting suggestion,  was it even possible?  "I
doubt even Nick could book Mel Gibson on this short of notice.  But it's a
nice thought, isn't it?"  They both sat in happy silence, consumed with
their own images of those very nice strong legs, and perfect drowning blue
eyes, and large long...muscles, yeah,  muscles.   Nat could almost smell the
estrogen hanging in the room.

      "Mmm."  Grace had a huge grin on her face.

      Nat was certain hers matched.  The vibrating in her pocket made her
jump,  until she realized what it was.  Pager, right, she was wearing her
pager.   She pulled it out, and read the number.  "Got to go, Grace, work
calls."

      Turning to the phone, she typed in the number to dispatch.  It was
another body,  down at the water front, near the gardens.  A mere block from
her near fatal date, so long ago.

      She caught a ride in one of the squad cars, arriving to one more taped
off crime scene.  The fire truck was just pulling away, as she stepped from
the warm confines of the car.   Flashing police lights cast  even more chaos
onto the swarm of people.  She spotted Don half way down the alley between
the steel sides of the warehouses.

      She pushed her way past the crowd of civilians and ducked under the
yellow tape.  Once past that barrier there was room to breathe, providing
one wanted to.  She crinkled her nose at the foul odor of dead fish and
urine.

      "Hey Schank."  She looked past him to the semi-nude body sprawled face
down across the pavement.  The curly mat of blond hair tangled with the
rough surface,  soaking up the liquid from the puddle surrounding her head.
Was it blood?  Kneeling down to check, she was assaulted by the acrid
stench.

      "He peed on her?"  She looked at Don with disgust.

      "Yeah,  and a message on the wall over there too."  He pointed further
down the alley to where the photographers were having a field day before the
piss dried.  They must have missed him by less than an hour this time.

      Some instinct made her glance up to the rooftop garden from that ill
fated date.  A flash of movement caught the corner of her eye, as though
somebody had stepped out of sight.  There was someone up there, she was
certain of it.  Who?  LaCroix?

      If it was him, he was growing careless.  But, no, she didn't think so.
He would show himself, not slink in the shadows.  "We're being watched,
Schanke.  I think he's up there gloating."  Without being obvious, she
indicated the building.  If the killer really was watching, she didn't want
to give him warning.

      Donald didn't bother questioning her, he just whispered into the radio
on his shoulder.  Action happened fast after that.  At least half the
uniforms raced from the scene, some in cars, some footing it.  All
converging on the high rise.

      Sirens pierced the night.  So much for not giving warning.   There was
no way they would be able to catch him now.  By the time they got up there,
he'd be long gone.  She heard Schanke swear and echoed it.  Whoever did that
was going to be busted to traffic, and a detailed mandatory review of police
procedure.

      She turned back to the body.  Gloves on, she lifted the wet hair out
of the way.  Sure enough, it was another strangulation.  The hand marks were
still red from the chaffing.  The skin under there was still pliant, and
luke warm.  Whoever discovered the body should have started CPR.  She shook
her head in frustration.  There might have been a chance, but it was too
late now.

      The rest of the body looked blue with cold.  Only a vinyl jacket and a
pair of knee high nylons separated it from the elements.  She used her pen
to prod open the jacket pocket.  Amazingly, the wallet was still there.  She
flipped it open, and looked at the driver's license.

      "Schanke, victim is twenty nine year old Trisha Marks.  I put the time
of death at about midnight.  She was bound first, then strangled.  I'll get
the sexual assault workup done at the lab, but I'd put money down that she
was raped, too."

            Nat tossed the wallet up to him and continued the preliminary
exam.  That's odd,  she double checked the ears again.  "Did anyone find an
earring?  She's missing one."

      "No."  Schanke squatted down to take a closer look at the small cross
stud.  "Were any of the other victims wearing jewelry?"

      "No,  but they may have been.  Double check with the victim's friends
and families."  She could just imagine a little wooden box out there with a
morbid collection of trophies inside.  Shuddering, she motioned to the lab
assistants to bring over the body bag.  "What was the message on the wall?"

      "It's odd, just four numbers.  1228.  Mean anything to you?"

      She froze.  Oh god.  How did they find out?  How much did they know?
She had to warn Nick, and LaCroix.  The entire community was in danger.  Oh
god.  The ramifications hit her like a mack truck.  "I gotta go, Schanke."

      "Hey!  Wait, they do mean something to you.  Nat!"  He chased after
her retreating back.  "Come on, talk to me!"

      "I have to call Nick.  Yes, it means something, but I need to talk to
him first."  She shouted it over her shoulder as she ran for the cars.

      "I'm his partner, if you know who did this, tell me!"  His breath came
in hard gasps, as he stumbled to a halt.   She ducked into a patrol car and
took off.  "Fine don't.  Nick never did either."


Chapter 5

      Natalie pushed through the crowd of young party goers, not caring that
she was being rude.  Her eyes scanned over the dark room, frantic to find
him.  Where was he?  Miklos was at the bar, polishing a glass and chatting
with a young redhead.  He looked up at her.  How he'd sense her presence was
a mystery, but she was grateful.  "Where is he?" She mouthed the words, but
had no doubt he would understand.

      He frowned and gestured towards the back rooms.  Waving her thanks,
she strode up the stairs to the apartments above.  The main room was
deserted.  Her plate from breakfast was clean and dry next to the sink.
Everything had been straightened from the night before, but there was no
indication of his whereabouts.  She focused on the link, trying to pinpoint
a direction.  Ah, his bedroom!

      As soon as she swung the door open, she realized her mistake.  Knock
first.  Always knock first.  LaCroix was in there sure enough,  chest deep
in the bubbling waters of the Jacuzzi.

      He lifted his head from the back of the tub to meet her eyes.
"Doctor, what a pleasant surprise."  He trailed a wet finger across his
lips.  "I can only assume you chose to ignore my warning, so come.  Enjoy
your consequences."  The last trailed off in a suggestive whisper that made
her want to do just that.

      She swallowed, unable to control the reaction to his offer.  Steam
wafted up, from, and around his bleached skin,  the powerful physique even
more appealing without the suit.  That he'd been a warrior, there was no
doubt.  Cords of muscle flexed in perfect relief against the blackness of
the tub.  Hmm, Tiger, tiger, burning bright...preparing to take the final
bite.  Snap out of it, Nat!  What was she doing, ogling him?

      "That bad, are you?"  She coughed in pure disbelief.  Where the hell
had that come from?  She couldn't believe she'd said it.

      "Strip doctor."  He bit the order out from behind clenched teeth.  He
wasn't amused.  If anything, he looked offended.

      Uh oh.  She judged the distance to the door.  Nope there was no way
she was making that one.  He would just chase her down.  Seeing him running
naked,  through a room, intent on killing her was not one of the items up on
her to-do list today.    Doing a strip tease, and joining him in the hot tub
missed the cut too.

      "No.  LaCroix, I am not your personal toy, not yet.  Maybe never.  Get
over it.  I came to warn you, Nick's in trouble.  So, please, do start
thinking with the top story, eh?"  He must be insane if he thought she would
willingly strip in front of him.

      He leaned back into the smooth porcelain, casting a resigned look of
patience to the heavens.  "Dear child, Nicholas is always in trouble.  Let
me guess, another mortal has found out his secret?  Or,  perhaps he is
starving himself again?  Wait, no, that wouldn't be a problem for you, would
it?  You seem to like him being ill.  So, do tell me, what has my errant son
done this time?"

      She let out the breath she'd been holding.  "I don't know, closer to
the first one.  Someone peed Nick's true birthdate on the wall of a crime
scene, for the whole world to see.  Forensics took pictures of it.  Right
now, they are just a string of four meaningless numbers, but we know better,
don't we?  How long until the killer plants some, other, more damning
evidence?  With this many bodies, even I can't cover it up."

      "I see.  Well, that does put a new perspective on things, doesn't it?
We shall discuss your insolence later.  Leave me."  He sat up, rinsing the
water over his smooth chest and broad shoulders.  Cupping his hands, he
splashed the warm liquid onto his face.  He wiped it away, and noticed her
continued presence.   "What are you waiting for, Doctor?  You declined to
join me, so stop staring and leave."

      Right.  Good idea.  She turned and walked out.  That image was going
to stay with her for a very long time.  Honesty here, Nat,  she didn't want
that image to go away.  If she had the guts, she'd march back in there to
watch the rest of the show.   That's it, she was certifiably pathetic.  She
would not drool over the egotistical maniac, naked, in the other room.  She
refused.

      Throwing herself on the couch, she looked around for the television.
Nothing like watching infomercials to kill any kind of mood.  How can a man
live without a t.v.?  Wasn't that some kind of requirement?  At birth, each
was issued, one 'y' chromosome,  one extra body part, and a remote.  Ah ha!
She spied the black control sticking out from the edge of his ottoman.  So,
he did have a television in here, somewhere.

      She grabbed it in triumph.  Her face fell when she realized it was a
remote, yes, but not for entertainment.  Like Nick's loft, there must be
electronic shutters in here as well.  She pressed the open button.
Overhead, the ceiling started rolling away, revealing a skylight the size of
the entire room.  The orange crescent moon hung low in the southern sky,
framed by a few tiny pinpricks of stars.  She stood, staring in awe, as a
plane floated overhead, the red and green lights winking in the distance.

      All along the plaster encasement, an artist had captured the Creation
from the Sistine Chapel.  The heavens, framed by the images of a man's god,
seemed odd, especially coming from LaCroix.   But, even with her jaded
heart, there was no arguing with the raw beauty, the sheer power the image
evoked.  She sensed his presence, coming up beside her.

      "It's beautiful."

      "Yes.  Even in the darkness, beauty exists. Michelangelo meant this to
be displayed, in the closed confines of a church, stained by the lights of a
million facets of cheaply colored glass.  I have improved on the setting."
His voice rang with pride.
      No modesty there, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Turning away
from the view, she looked to him. Oh, my. Nope, no modesty there at all. She
gulped. Blood flooded her face. She wanted to turn away, but hell, how do
you turn away from that?  He poised there, a towel draping to the floor in
one hand as he looked up at the stars. Moonlight bathed his solid flanks in
a soft white glow, the perfect body, frozen in time. His cobalt eyes swung
slowly to her, an inhuman stillness holding his face in thrall.
      "Do you not agree, Dr. Lambert?"
      Agree? Agree to what? She blinked at him.  Her mind blanked, as she
focused on the one thing most important to her at the moment. A naked man,
no, naked vampire, stood in front of her. What was she supposed to agree to?
      "Doctor?" He frowned at her.
      Agreement, that meant yes. Even in this befuddled state, she knew
that. "Sure, why not."
      He continued frowning.
      That must have been the wrong answer.  She mentally reviewed his
conversation, keeping her eyes well above waist level.  They'd been
discussing...the painting;  right, the painting of the naked men on the
ceiling.  "I mean, yes I agree.  The setting is very nudce.  Err...nice.  If
you want to discuss art, get some clothes on."  An insistent voice urged her
to look down, take that quick peek, before he covered.  She wanted to see
what he so freely offered.  Okay, fine.  One quick peek, but that was all
she'd take.

      It was huge, erect, and uncircumcised.  Oh god.  She squeezed her eyes
shut.  There was no doubt he was happy to see her,  having that further
evidence of his desire terrified her.  She could handle him wanting her
blood,  but not her body.

      "I can smell your need from here, Natalie."  No mockery laced his deep
voice, just a quiet acceptance of what must be.  "Come to me."

      "No."  Her mouth watered.  Fairly trembling with the need to go to
him, to feed, to rape if need be, she found the strength to step back
instead.

      "If you do not, then soon you will lose control and attack the nearest
mortal around you,  perhaps even your dear Detective Schanke."

      Why would she attack Schanke?  Myra would kill here, and Don would
think she'd lost her mind.  For that matter, she would think she'd lost her
own mind.  "I'm not following you, LaCroix.  What do you mean I'll attack
someone?"  She was not liking where this conversation was going.

      "As we speak, my blood is changing you.  It starts as desire, for
flesh, for blood, it matters not which.  If you don't feed it, my blood will
turn on yours, and then, there will be little hope of getting through it
sane.  I repeat, come to me."

      She glared at him, all traces of her embarrassment gone. "You knew
this would happen." He was right, the hunger was there, just under the
surface.  With him standing there, so tempting in the soft moonlight, the
desire for flesh was higher than for blood.  She could see he knew it, and
that infuriated her.   "This was all some sort of test, wasn't it?  To see
how much control I have, to see if I would jump your archaic bones at the
drop of a hat.  Forget it.  If I must have sex or blood, then I take blood."

      "As you prefer."  He padded into the kitchen, the muscles playing
across his tight rump, and grabbed a small paring knife.  With the flick of
his wrist, he gashed a wound into his neck.  The other hand came up to
tangle in her thick hair.  She found her mouth pressed against his throat,
the blood pouring in.  The choice was to drown or swallow.  She swallowed.

      His grip eased after the first few mouthfuls,  letting her drink on
her own.  She couldn't pull away, whatever need he spoke of,  had full
control  now.  With his blood came strength, and so many memories.  Unlike
the first time, she controlled the speed.  She traced along the roads of
ancient Gaul with his finger, as he plotted a war strategy onto the thick
vellum map.

She felt the personal anguish over crushing his mother's people, his own
people.  The empty triumph of the victory celebration as they lay slain
around him.  She joined him in the roman baths as servants washed away the
grime with their fingers, and the memories with their bodies.

      "Enough Doctor,  unless you wish to make your own donation."

      She swallowed the last of it, and pulled her mouth away.  For a few
seconds she rested her head on his warm shoulder, unwilling to move.  His
arms surrounded her, keeping her from falling.

      "We'll need to finish this sooner than Saturday, won't we?"  If she
craved his blood this much,  how could she survive another five days?
Drinking this amount of it on a nightly basis, she had maybe three left to
go before she changed regardless.

      "We shall see.  However, from this point on, you will drink whenever
you feel the need,  any kind of need.  Unlike you, I will not allow someone
I am responsible for to starve.  Do I make myself clear?"  His chest rumbled
below her ear, and the embrace tightened.

      "Yes."  For the first time since meeting him, she felt safe.  She
mulled over the idea, even perhaps, content.  Must be one of the side
affects not listed on the warning label.   'Potentially harmful or fatal,
may cause hallucinations and a false feeling of security.  In case of
accidental ingestion, seek religious attention immediately.' Or not.  She
smiled against his bare skin.   The giggling started quiet, low in her
throat.  Soon it was a shaking, full bellied laugh, half hysteria, half
genuine relief that she still lived.

      LaCroix held her throughout, resting his chin on top of her head.  She
felt his understanding flow through the link.  He shared in the brief
happiness,  for once not at odds with her, or any of his other children.  It
was enough for now.  She still felt the longing for her body, but it was
just background noise.

      "I'll take what I can get, Natalie.  You will be mine.  In that, you
don't have a choice."


Chapter 6

      "Where is Nick, Natalie?"  Captain Cohen looked across the desk at
her,  expression carefully controlled.

      "What's going on?  Why do you need to find Nick?  Did something happen
to him?"  She didn't need to feign the stark worry.  It held her in it's
reptilian claws, scratching to be free.  She knew what was wrong,  they hadn
't confirmed it, not yet, but they would.  Something of Nick's had turned up
at the crime scene.  Nothing else would account for Schanke's averted
glances, or the dead silence of the bullpen when she walked through the
door.

      Cohen sat back in her chair, her eyes seeming to pierce Natalie's
soul. "That's one of the reasons we need to find him.  We don't know if he's
okay.  I hoped you could tell me that.  Do you know where he is?"

      "As of last night, he was in Paris.  I can get you the number if you
want to call him.  He's preparing his Uncle's house for our honeymoon."  She
made sure she gave him an alibi.  So what if his stuff turned up at a grisly
murder, there was no way for them to hang this on him.  Now, to find out
what evidence they had. "Why did you think something happened to him?"

      "One of the officers found his jacket in the dumpster beside the
alley.  It was covered in blood.  Since there wasn't a lot of blood at the
crime scene or on the victim, we still don't know who's blood it is.  You've
been ordered off the case, until internal affairs clears you, I need you to
stay out of the morgue.  Call me back with his phone number.  We do need to
talk with him, preferably in person.  I'm sorry Nat.  "

      "Yeah." She clenched her jaw to keep the snarl from escaping.
"I have some things to pick up there still, and paperwork to finish before
Friday. Will I be able to do that?"

      "No. Tell officer Jenkins what you need, and he'll get it. You'll need
to answer a few of his questions, anyway. He took over the case from
Schanke. At the moment, the department cannot afford for there to be a
conflict of interest in this investigation, too much is at stake." She
closed the folder on her desk and gestured to the door. "Go home Nat, and
get me that number. Your boss has authorized the rest of this week for paid
leave. Consider it a holiday to get ready for your bachelorette party."
      Natalie nodded and gathered up her coat. "Thanks Amanda." It wasn't
even close to what she wanted to say.  She hoped Nick would keep up her
pretense of an upcoming wedding. Providing he even showed up. Right now, the
entire world trembled around her, preparing to crash down. She didn't even
want to consider what LaCroix's reaction was going to be.
      Officer Jenkins stood at attention outside the office. Great, a
rookie, the spit shined shoes gave it away. Cohen hadn't been kidding,
nothing like a kid fresh from the academy to keep any questions of loyalty
away from the investigation.
      "At ease soldier." She smiled at the confusion coming over the smooth
cheeks of his face. Was he old enough to be a cop? It looked like he still
plucked, there wasn't enough hair to shave.
      "Ms. Lambert, if you will follow me, we have some things we need to
discuss." He ignored her attempt at humor and motioned down the hall to the
interrogation rooms.
      "It's Doctor Lambert.  Lead the way." Two could play the serious game,
and she claimed a lot more experience than he did.
      He closed the interrogation room door after her, and turned on the
tape recorder. Wonderful. She sent out a silent plea for assistance to
LaCroix. They treated her like a suspect, and now, she was being
interrogated. What was going on?
      "DR. Lambert, will you please state your full name?" He stressed the
title, making it clear that he didn't care for her correction.
      "Natalie Ann Lambert."

      "Thank you.  I am Officer Jenkins.  Sorry about the inconvenience, but
the circumstances warrant it.  Dr. Lambert, why did you leave the crime
scene last night?"  She could see him resurrecting the perfectly harmless
good cop persona.  See, I'm your friend, you can tell me anything.  Right.

      "I left for personal reasons.  Why do you ask?"  If the innocent smile
didn't reach her eyes, oh well.  She considered, but, no. A blink might over
due it.  She hoped LaCroix was on his way.  The damage control for this one
needed his special talents.  'these are not the suspects you are looking
for....'

      "That isn't the impression you gave Detective Schanke.  He felt you
knew something about this case, and that you suggested Et. Knight might be
involved.  Do you know where Detective Knight is?  You see, no one can find
him."  So much for the good cop.

      She stared at him in outrage,  the creep all but accused her of hiding
Nick...or even killing him.  This was too much.  She glared into that smooth
young face and spoke, nice and slow.  "You want to find Nick, go for it.  If
you want my help finding him, apologize."  She stood and walked to the door
without waiting for a reply.

      "Wait Doctor!  We're not through yet."

      "Yes, we are.  And by the way, you can go get my purse and chinese
takeout from my office.  Captain assigned you to be my retriever for the
evening."   She turned the knob.

      He gave every appearance of wanting to throw a temper tantrum.  His
fist were balled on top of the table, his nostrils flared, and his eyebrow
formed a straight line all the way across his protruding brow ridge.
Instead, he walked calmly to the door and shut it.

      "You wouldn't care to explain why Knight has blood in his
refrigerator, would you?  One of the samples matches with the blood type of
Ambria Molone.  Your fingerprints are on that bottle Dr. Lambert."

      Everything fell into horrifying place at that moment.  "Of course they
're on the bottle, I help Nick paint."

      He scribbled something down on the pad. "I wish I could believe you,
but I don't."

      "Fine.  Don't.  I want to call my lawyer."

      "What's his name?  We'll call him for you."

      "Lucien LaCroix,  he can be reached at the Raven."  She mentally
crossed her fingers.  Now was the time to put her theory to the test.  If
anyone would make her a perfect lawyer, it was him.

      "Great.  I'll get him on the phone,  in the meantime, can I get you a
cup of coffee?"

      "That stuff will kill you.  No thanks, I'll take my chances with the
chow mein.  You can get it from my office."  Even if the thought of eating
solid food made her stomach churn, she would nibble on the stuff for hours
if need be.  She wanted to delay him as long as possible.

      When he left, he took the cassette with him;  so much for having trust
in your coworkers.  She rubbed the bridge of her nose, thinking.  The blood
in Nick's fridge was too old to be Ambria's.  The last time she'd handled a
bottle was last Friday.  Ambria met her end on Tuesday.  A simple DNA test
cleared that up.  But how long until the DNA results came back, two weeks, a
month?  Until then, she could be in lockup.  She sighed, "Nick, you chose a
great time to leave."

      A light rap on the door signaled officer Jenkin's return about twenty
minutes later.  He entered, carrying the styrofoam doggy bag in one hand,
the packet of paper in the other.

      "I called and left a message with your lawyer.  I don't know when he'
ll get it,  he was gone at the time.  Here's your dinner, and a warrant to
search your apartment, car and purse."  He placed both on the table in front
of her.

      She stared at him, nonplused.  "You do work fast.  Try not to make a
mess, I expect it to be clean when your crew is done.  Have fun."  She
popped open the styrofoam lid.  Inside the noodles swam in a soggy cold heap
of greasy vegetables.  "Mind getting a fork?"  If he expected a huge
reaction, she refused to give it to him.

      "Excuse me?"  Why did he sound so hostile?  His brows still made a
straight line, arching up at the corners just a little.  It gave the
appearance of a  Neanderthal cousin to Spock.

      "You didn't give me a fork."  She motioned to the food.

      Most of the hostility went away at that.  Instead he started to blush.
"Sorry,  I misunderstood, I'll be right back."

      He almost walked straight into Lacroix when he opened the door.  Not
budging, LaCroix stared down at the top of the man's head.

      Stepping back so he could crane his neck up enough to face the
intruder,  Jenkins puffed out his chest. "Who are you?  I'm in the middle of
an interrogation here."

      The gleam in LaCroix's eye did not bode well for the rookie.  Natalie
stood, fast, hoping to diffuse the situation before Jenkins became the
dinner special.   "Mr. LaCroix! Thank you for coming so soon.  Officer
Jenkins, this is my lawyer, Lucien LaCroix."

       Surprise registered briefly on LaCroix's face.   He handled it well,
sticking out his hand for the introduction.  "It is always a pleasure to
meet the fine Doctor's coworkers."  The shake became a one sided battle of
wills.  LaCroix never changed his polite, disinterested smile, while
applying enough pressure to break a glass.  "Officer, would you mind leaving
me alone with my,"  He paused,  looking directly at her, "client?"

      Free at last of the crushing grasp, a white faced Jenkins skirted
around the imposing figure of LaCroix,  darting out the door.  "I'll go get
her a fork.  Take your time."

      LaCroix closed it behind him.  "You interrupted me in the middle of a
broadcast.  This had better be good."

      "I'm about to be arrested as an accomplice to murder.  Sound like a
good enough reason for you?"  For the second time that night, she surprised
him.

      He blinked. "My, you have been naughty."  The words were quiet, to the
point, and full of menace.

      She slammed the lid shut. "No, I haven't.  If it wasn't for you and
your son, I would be happily dissecting bodies, not here eating cold chinese
food in an interrogation room."

      His face steadily turned into a frown as she filled him in on the
details.  When she came to the names of the victims,  he swore.  "They are
all my customers.  Ambria is a regular donor.  I'm afraid, Doctor, that even
if they do the DNA test,  it will match.   The killer chose well."  His tone
held too much respect for Natalie's taste.

      "What are you going to do?"

      "I will worry about that.  Just play along for the good officer.  He's
coming with your fork."  He looked at the leftovers with disdain.  "You know
that if you eat that, you will be quite ill.  It might be difficult to
explain why you are puking blood."

      "What?"

      LaCroix shook his head in warning, then stepped back behind the door.
She wanted to ask more, but Jenkins returned with a plastic fork.  He walked
right past LaCroix, not noticing the absence until he made it halfway across
the room.

      "Where's your lawyer?   I still have some questions to ask."

      Natalie took her que, and grabbed the fork.  "I have some questions of
my own.  Why were you searching Nick's place?  I understand your concern for
his well being, but you have to admit, going through the fridge is a strange
place to look for him."  She watched as LaCroix eased the door shut, then
she pressed on.  "Were you really expecting to find him in a wine bottle?
You don't have a case, and you know it."  She shoved some of the greasy mess
into her mouth and swallowed before she lost her nerve.

      "Indeed, you plucked from a very poisonous tree, Officer."  LaCroix
walked around the startled police officer.  My client refuses to answer any
further questions."  LaCroix's gaze penetrated into the man's soul.  Natalie
could feel the vibrations from her seat, including the steady thumping of
the mortal's heart.  The officer's eyes glazed over as he stared into the
blank surface of the wall beyond LaCroix's shoulder.

      Smiling softly, LaCroix continued. "She has nothing to do with these
tragic deaths, it was all a terrible misunderstanding." LaCroix took the
file from Jenkin's unresisting fingers.  After a quick search through it,
and the removal of the blood workup, he put it back in the man's hand.  "The
bottles found in Detective Knight's residence contained pig blood.  The
samples at the lab were accidentally switched with Doctor Lambert's original
specimens from the victim.  You are very sorry for the inconvenience.  She
is free to leave."  LaCroix released his mind and went to stand behind
Natalie.

      Jenkins started and shook his head.  His pale, confused face looked up
at them.  "I'm terribly sorry, Doctor Lambert.  There was a mixup at the
lab, the blood samples were switched.  I don't know how it happened, but you
're free to go.  If there's anything I can do to make up for the way you
were treated, please, let me know."  He reached up to scratch his head,
still disoriented.

      Not feeling the slightest sympathy for him, Natalie rubbed it in.
"You mean you dragged me down here, took out a warrant for my apartment, and
all but accused me of murder, over a mistake?"

      "Again, I'm sorry.  If you will excuse me, I have to tell the Captain
about the call from the lab.  She'll be relieved.  She didn't think you
would have done it, but we had to be certain."  He turned, shook his head
again, then walked slowly down the hallway.

      Natalie breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thank you.  I owe you for this
one, but first we need to get down to the lab and do the paperwork for the
pig blood.  Mind sneaking me in?"

      "Sunrise is in an hour, can you finish before then?"

      "You bet your undead, lilly white backside."  She tossed the chinese
food in the garbage and waltzed out, past the grinning figure of LaCroix.


Chapter 7

      "No.  You shouldn't even have told them Nick was in Paris!  Giving
them my personal phone number in Paris is out of the question."  LaCroix
paced across the living room.

      Natalie watched his smooth movements as one watched a trained tiger,
admiring the grace, the beauty, but ready to dive behind the couch at the
first sign of the carefully controlled strength becoming unleashed.    "They
need to talk to him.  Even you can't erase the minds of the entire Toronto
police department."

      She wasn't prepared for his snarl of rage.  "Don't you think I know
that?  He will come back, to face these absurd challenges of his
questionable innocence.  It interferes with everything!"  He leaned over,
putting one hand on either side of the couch cushions around her.  With his
face centimeters from her own, there was no time or room to dive anywhere.
"Release me from my word, Natalie."

      She could smell the slight taste of cinnamon on his breath, see the
tips of his fangs, just above his gumline, before those full lips closed
back over them.  It didn't take a genius to figure out what vow he wanted
released from.  Her week was up, in two days instead of five.   Faced with
death, looking her straight in the eye with those glacial ice pools, she was
lost.  She couldn't scream, couldn't run, and she refused to cry.  "Give me
one more sunrise, LaCroix, then do what you must."

      "Agreed. You have this one, last, day." His soft lips caressed hers.
Nibbling at the edge of her mouth until she opened under him.  Half in
wonder, half in surprise, Natalie explored his mouth.  The taste of cinnamon
was there, along with the oddest flavor of honey.  She felt his fangs slide
down into place, and touched the sharps points with her tongue.  Stroking
along the sides brought a shudder to the powerful frame above her.  She
wanted more, but he tore away, resting his forehead on her own.

      "No more."  His voice came out hoarse. "You had better go, sunrise is
in ten minutes." He gently placed another kiss on her forehead, just a soft
brushing of his lips, and drew away.  "I need to prepare."

      She watched him walk away in confusion.  What did he want from her?
Everything she knew of LaCroix's past told her point blank, that this was
just another game, an amusement to pass the time, or even another way to
bring Nick back into the fold.   Her heart told a different story, she saw a
lonely proud warrior.   Great, Lambert, And the last time your heart was
right, was when?  That's right, Nat, never.  Your heart is a homing beacon
for trouble.  The only men it likes are either the walking dead, serial
murderers, or, in the present case, both.  She snorted.

      "Doctor, might I remind you, you wanted to see the sunrise?"  He stood
by the phone, looking at her with one raised eyebrow, expectant.

      "Don't worry, I won't be late for our appointment."  She heard the
bitterness in her tone, and didn't care.

      LaCroix regarded her in bafflement.  "I should hope not.  Now go,
before I change my mind and take you where you stand."

      She went.



      The cold wind chafed the skin of her cheeks, burning along her skin
until it reached the warmth of her jacket's collar.  She wrapped the small
protection tighter about her, as she stared up at the Toronto skyline.  The
road remained quiet in this predawn hour.  Cresting the horizon, the sun
gave a light grey glow to the thick clouds above.  The first drop of rain
landed in a frozen ooze on the tip of her nose.

      "Well, looks like I got what I wanted, a true sunrise in Toronto."
She leaned against the building as the light drizzle started to turn into a
downpour.   Overhead, the clouds remained in a densely packed cover.  If the
sun managed to break through that defensive shield, pigs would be flying at
La Guardia, instead of 747's

      Everything had run smoothly at her lab.  The technician had all but
fallen over at the gravity of his 'mistake'.  Even in the car on the way
back, LaCroix behaved, the perfect gentleman.  It was just the calm before
the storm.

      Disappointment ate at her.  She'd hoped for a glorious pink dawn,
surrounded by golden clouds, with rays of light shooting over the gleaming
windows of the city.  There was no use in standing here, getting drenched.
Resigned, she turned back inside.

      Miklos looked up from wiping a table as she came back in.  Two cases
of bottled blood, sat conspicuous on the bar.  He knew.  She could see it in
his stance, the way his eyes shifted from her to the bottles.

      "You're scared."  He continued wiping at the glistening table,
polishing out some invisible stain.  Those two simple words, spoken in a
lilting Greek accent, summed up everything.

      Natalie swallowed, hard, past the unshed tears, retaining what dignity
she could.  "Yes.  Who wouldn't be?"

      He gave up the pretense of cleaning, and tossed the rag onto the
table.  "Most of us didn't have the time to be afraid.  But, neither did we
have the time to prepare, or enjoy our last hours.  Believe it or not, he's
doing you a kindness.  What is scaring you?"

      Natalie walked to the bar, and lifted out one of the green bottles.
Miklos did nothing to stop her, just observed her with those wise brown
eyes.       "This scares me."  She fingered the light dust coating the top.
"I already crave LaCroix's blood, and because of it, he controls me.  That
terrifies me. If I can't control myself, I know what happens.  Richard..."
She looked away, remembering that hellish night.  "My brother couldn't.
Nick killed him."

      "Ah."  Miklos went behind the bar, and took down the box of hot
chocolate mix.  "You fear death."  Dumping the contents of one of the
packets into a mug, he continued quietly.  "LaCroix will not allow you to
die.  He owes you too much, we all do.  If he thought you couldn't handle
crossing over, he would fight the enforcer's edict, no matter the
consequences."

      Natalie sat there, a little stunned at this insight.  She couldn't see
LaCroix endangering himself for a mortal, not even her.  However, she didn't
doubt Miklos.  "Do you trust him?"

      "I would walk into the sun if he told me it wouldn't hurt."  Miklos
stirred the steaming chocolate.  "Whipped cream?"

      "Yes, please."  She watched his expert hands spray the cream in a
perfect swirl.   He sat the tempting mug in front of her, and leaned back
against the mahogany shelves.  She found it hard to see him as a vampire, he
seemed so, human.  "Thank you."  Taking a sip, she beamed her appreciation.

      "You're welcome."  He smiled in comfort.  "You'll be fine.  If anyone
can retain control, it is you.  After all, you've known Nick for six years,
and haven't shot him once."

      Natalie laughed, low in her throat.  "I've been tempted."  She
realized then, that Miklos would answer any question, she asked, without
judgement,  just as one friend to another.  The ramifications of that set
in.  Serious now, she deliberated how to ask him the foremost question in
her mind.

      "How will LaCroix do this?"

      The smile bled away from his handsome, tanned face.  "I won't lie to
you.  You deserve the truth.  He is a man."  Miklos stopped, uncertainty
reflected in the purse of his lips,  "He will bring you across in his bed.
Jeanette was the only woman he did not bring over that way, but her
circumstances were unique.  You are too much of a temptation for him, he's
wanted you for a long time."

      That's what she figured.   Not knowing what else to do, she drank more
of the chocolate.  "Will he give me a choice?"

      "No.  You already desire him, if I can smell that, then so can
LaCroix.  If you want to remain in control, then go to him willingly."

      How could she go to him willingly?  How could she not?  She wanted
him, and he wouldn't be giving her a choice.  The road to hell should be
paved with such temptations.  Would it be such a crime to enjoy it?

      She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until Miklos's rich voice,
answered.  "Things are different for vampires, Natalie.  Intimacy with your
master is expected.  No one would judge you for enjoying it."  Miklos turned
to the sink behind him, and started rinsing the serving trays.  He still
glanced up at her, from under the wavy locks of black hair.  "I am surprised
Nick didn't tell you this."

      "He never intended to bring me across.  We had hoped to cure him
instead."  Not that it mattered now.  Nick was happy with Jeanette, his
decision made.   Natalie finished off the cocoa.

      "Ah.  Sometimes, Nick can be a fool.  I am sorry he didn't have the
brains to treat you better."

      "Don't be, not your fault I was too blind to see past a pretty face."
She grimaced, wasn't it normally the man who had that problem?

      "One can feel regret and sorrow for another without sharing guilt.
You're feeling a bit better now, no?"

      "Yes, Miklos, I'm a little better.  Thank you for your honesty."  She
did appreciate it, just talking about things had calmed her enough that she
didn't think she'd cry or panic when the time came.

      "No problem."  He lifted the case of bottles in one hand and smiled at
her.  "If you want anything, after, let me know.  I need to get these
upstairs to him, and seek my own bed.  Goodnight Natalie."

      He retreated to the back rooms, leaving her alone in the suddenly huge
nightclub.  "Goodnight."    The sound of her voice was swallowed into empty
space, unanswered.

      After half an hour she couldn't put it off anymore.  Whatever her
fate, she came to the decision to seek it out.  Six years of her life
wasted, for one man.

      "Well, Nick, you had your chance."  She ascended the stairs, going to
the one she knew would keep his word.

      LaCroix met her at the door, wearing a flowing white silk shirt, edged
in layers of lace, and a pair of skin tight black pants.  The white fabric
accented his own pale coloring, highlighting the glowing depths of his eyes.
She wanted to touch him, to run her hands over that soft material, and the
smooth skin underneath.  When he held his hand out for her, she took it.
Through the link, she felt his approval, the cool warmth of his desire and
satisfaction.

      "Did you enjoy your sunrise my dear?"  He brushed the hair away from
her face, and pulled back his fingers in surprise.  "You're wet."

      "It's raining."  She took her hand away and peeled the jacket off.
"I didn't see the sun."

      Taking her damp jacket, he looked down at her in compassion.  "Does it
mean so much to you?"

      Did it?  She considered.  The sun itself meant nothing,  it was the
afternoons in the park with friends, the picnics with the rest of the
department that meant something.  She would miss them, not the sun.  "No,
not really."

      He nodded, slowly, to himself.  "Good."  He tossed her coat over the
couch, the movement quick, decisive.  "It is time.  Go to my room, I'll be
there shortly."

      Natalie shivered, forcing herself to take the additional steps to his
sanctuary.   With each step, her courage faltered,  by the ficus tree it
gave up altogether.  She stopped, unwillingly to go further.  She could feel
him,  a solid warmth at her back.  His strong hand wrapped around her frozen
waist, propelling her the rest of the way.  "Come Doctor, don't fail me
 now."

      Together, they surveyed the results of his handiwork.  Hundreds of
candles burned throughout the room.  Their flickering glow casting a golden
sheen onto the draping velvet of the bed.   White roses flowed from every
vase, and more of the soft petals dusted the floor.   The wall mirror across
the room reflected back her ghostly figure, tiny against the enigmatic god
looming just behind.

      LaCroix turned on a hidden switch and a dark violin solo filled the
chamber, resonating in the sultry air.  She imagined his long fingers
dancing the bow over the strings, every movement precise, flowing as the
music overcame his soul.  From within, she felt the music swell, soaring, as
it found an answering emotion, longing.

      She didn't resist when his deft fingers unbuttoned the front of her
blouse.  Her breasts became heavy under his touch, the nipples tightening as
they were freed into the air.  Pushing forward into the warm palm of his
hand, she shivered.

      He tenderly stroked the sensitive flesh.  "Exquisite, amans."  The bra
fell to the floor beside the dress.

      Natalie turned into his chest.  She needed to feel his bare skin
against her own.  If she was going to be naked, then so was he.  She found
the lowest button, and slipped it through the hole.  Working her way up, she
counted the five buttons until she met his hands on the last one at his
neck.  The large fingers encased her own, nimbly unhooking the last of the
buttons with her.  His eyes met hers over their joined hands.

      "Allow me."  He  pulled the shirt off in a flourish, the muscles of
his arms and chest flexing.  In the candlelight, he appeared a golden angel.
She ran her fingertip over that perfect skin, smiling in satisfaction as the
hairs raised under her touch.

      Her breasts flattened against his chest when he drew her to him.
Kissing that heated skin, brought a growl from deep within him.  She felt
the vibrations under her lips,  through her breasts, and then lower.  He
thrust into her belly,  his hardness straining against the tight fabric of
his pants.  How they held him, was beyond her.  At any moment she expected
to hear the sound of fabric giving way.

      Be a shame to waste such nice pants...she hooked her finger under the
snap, millimeters from that straining head.   He froze, every sense alert.
She didn't know if she sensed his fear or anticipation.  With a slight tug
the snap gave way, and he burst free into her hand.

      She held the thick length of him in her palm, squeezing gently up the
shaft.  With no small amount of awe, she realized she couldn't close her
fingers around him.  He quivered, and his arms pulled her tighter to his
chest.

      "My dear, you are a treasure.  Perhaps we should move this to the
 bed."  His deep voice spoke into the hair at her neck, just below her right
ear.

      Yes, the bed would be a lot better.  She didn't know how much longer
her knees would last before melting into a gooey heap on the marble floor.

      "Please."  She released him, intending to walk to the bed.  She didn't
make it.  In a woosh of air, he swept her into his powerful arms.  Almost
dizzy at the sudden change of position, she clung to him.

      He laughed.  "I like that word on your lips."

      She stared up at the intensity on his face, seeing the lust in his
glowing eyes.  Fear shot through her, the control she prized so much, gone.
She had to know.

      "LaCroix, tell me this is not a game for you."  There, it was out, her
fragile emotions perching on the edge of a cliff.  When he didn't
immediately answer, they plummeted.

      The glow in his eyes receded a little, blue flecks peeking out between
the gold.  "No, no game, dear child.  Together we will watch civilization
rise and fall, and rise again.  They are the game, laid before us on the
platter of the world."  He whispered the words, but the deep sound carried
throughout the room.  The candlelight danced shadows across his chiseled
face, as he laid her gently upon the velvet comforter.

      That was not the answer she sought.  He must have seen it in her eyes,
for he frowned.  "Natalie, if you seek love, go to my fickle son.  He feels
the questionable emotion at the drop of a hat.  I am too old for such
foolishness.  If you want loyalty, yes, that I can give you."  He lifted her
wrist to his mouth and kissed along the vein.  "For eternity."  He plunged
his fangs into the soft skin.

      The sudden violence brought a scream to her lips.  She felt him
sucking gently,  drawing her lifeblood out in a stream of liquid ecstasy.
The fleeting pain when his teeth broke through her skin immediately changed
to waves of pleasure.   Every nerve tingled and heat rushed between her
legs.   Through the link, she felt the rapture of his fangs surrounded by
the pulsing rush of her blood.   With an iron self control, tempered over
fifty lifetimes, he stopped, and licked the wounds closed.

      Kneeling above her, he finished stripping from his clothes.  The pants
pealed off like a second skin.  His hands ran over her satin panties,
applying enough pressure to make her arch into those expert fingers,
demanding more.  The moan escaped before she knew it was coming.

      Rather than take the time to pull them down, he tore through that last
barrier, ripping the lingerie from her body.  She grabbed his hand before he
moved any further and pulled him down beside her.  She needed him, now.  His
hand returned to stroking her, bringing her to the edge of the precipice.
He parted her folds and penetrated with one finger.

      It was enough.  She crested over and over again,  spasming around his
finger as it moved in and out.   She flexed into his pelvis, pressing
against him, wanting that huge length buried to it's hilt inside of her.
"LaCroix..."

      "Shh, slowly mon coer.  It has been awhile for you, non?  You are so
tight."  He pushed another finger in, stretching, and preparing the way.

      She rocked against them, and reached for the part of him she wanted.
Tonight there would be no holding back, this was her night.  She rubbed the
length up and down, holding the velvet warmth in her palm.  Would that skin
feel so smooth against her cheek, she wondered.  Later, she'd find out,
later.

      "Now LaCroix!"  She didn't care if she sounded demanding.  He added a
third finger, spreading the hot moisture around her entrance.  She guided
the thick head to her opening arching under him, spreading to accommodate
his powerful flanks.  He rubbed it against her first, lubricating the length
in her juices, before slowly moving his fingers away and replacing it with
what she wanted.  As his head entered, she stretched until she thought he'd
rip her apart, and still she needed more.  She pushed against him, sliding
more of that delicious length inside.

      He shuddered above her, the concentration and control it took not to
hurt her, making him shake.  Centimeter by centimeter he pushed unerringly
into her, until he seated himself fully.  Undulating against the fullness
invading her body, she cried out, the orgasm exploding through her.

      He pumped hard into her after that, surprisingly, it didn't hurt, she
demanded the roughness.  He went so deep, she felt him in her stomach.
Raking her hands across his back, she road the waves.   For hours they
rocked together, tangling in the sheets, the candlelight dimming, as the
wicks burnt into the wax.  He rotated against her until the slightest touch
sent her shooting into climax.

      "You like that do you, my dear?"

      "Mmmm."  She ground her hips against him, wanting something else,
knowing that he still held back something.  When the smell of his blood
reached her nose, she ground against him.  A part of her realized the link
was bleeding over, as he lost control.   He thrust wildly into her, and
nuzzled his mouth against the pulse in her neck.  She knew the end was at
hand, and turned her head away,  welcoming this, the vampire as well as the
man.

                His razor sharps fangs slip home, parting her skin like
butter.  An unintelligible sound caught in her throat, as she sacrificed
this to him.  Above he shuddered in his own releasing,  she felt the cool
spurting of semen and blood against her cervix.  Her hands cradled his head
to her, keeping him there, the unending rapture sending her into one last
orgasm.  She felt his satisfaction, mirroring her own.  There was no time
for fear, just a peaceful bliss as she fell headlong into the darkness.


Begin Chapter 8

      "Natasha!"

      Natalie gasped in recognition.  It couldn't be,  she'd expected
Richard, maybe even an avenging angel, but never this.  This gift was too
precious.  "Mom?"  The arms clinging around her felt real,  the scent
matching the lavender scented shampoo her mom always used; before the crash.

      "Oh god, Mom!"  She flung her arms around the woman she hadn't seen
since childhood.

      "Shhh, now let me get a look at my little girl."  Anne Lambert, stood
back to look her up and down.  "You're beautiful." Joy reflected on her
face. "You kept your curly hair.  I had hoped you would, so like your Dad'
s."  The wistfullness in her tone set Natalie aback.

      The courtyard around them teemed with people.  She scanned the faces
for signs of her father.  "Speaking of which, where is he?  I need to see
him too before I have to go."       She didn't know how long she had here,
but it couldn't be long until LaCroix called her back.

      "He didn't make it Nat,  I don't know where he went, but it's not
here, I've looked everywhere.  You're all I have.  Thank god you came."

      "Mom?  What do you mean, he didn't make it?  He died,  I saw him dead
at the church.  He must be here."  Natalie couldn't keep the panic from her
voice.  "What about Rich, he's here too!  He has to be."  Please let him be
here, she pleaded in her mind, she couldn't handle him being damned,  not
because of her.

      "He never came.  I thought once I saw him, but I was mistaken."
Flinging her arms around Natalie, her mother gave into tears.  "I am so glad
you're here Nat.  Heaven can be a lonely place.  Sometimes I question if
this isn't hell."

      Natalie patted her back in a half hearted attempt to assuage her
mother's pain, and her own guilt.  Richard would be here if it wasn't for
her demanding Nick do the unthinkable.  Shame and the hard cold lump in her
throat kept her silent.

      "Come back to the house with me, Nat.  I'll cook you some peach
cobbler.  Is it still your favorite?"  Her mother's hopeful expression tore
Natalie apart.  She didn't want to leave her here, not alone.  Life was
never meant to be fair.  Her mother deserved more than this betrayal.

      "I can't stay, Mom."

      Her mother smiled, "Of course you can, dear.  Where else would you
 go?"  Her cheerful tone, seemed to ask why her silly five year old daughter
wasn't wearing a coat in the rain.   That memory, from so long ago, she'd
thought forgotten.  Her mother's face held no fear, or concern about Natalie
's staying.  To her it was already decided.

      Great, she didn't understand, Natalie swore silently.  It was up to
her to explain to her mother why she chose to be damned.  "I have to go
back."  Her wide eyes, begged her mother to understand.

      "Go back?  You can't, no one ever goes back."  Her deep brown eyes,
kind and full of sympathy, as though telling a patient they had cancer.  "I'
ve tried."

      "Natalie, come back to me...."  LaCroix's soft voice drifted through
her conscious.  She stiffened as she realized her time was up.  She took her
mothers hand in hers, willing her to forgive this one unforgivable act.

      "Mom, I love you."  Her voice broke, but she made herself continue.
This needed to be said, and this was the only chance to do it.  "I never had
the chance to tell you before.  I wish things could be different, but I have
to go.  LaCroix is calling me."  She pulled her mother into one last hug.
"I'm sorry, so very sorry."  Words didn't begin to describe the agony of
abandoning her here.

      The knowledge dawned on Anne Lambert's face, darkening the shadows,
making her seem thirty years older in less than a second.  "No...baby, no.
It's not worth it.  Why?"

      Good question,  Natalie didn't have a ready answer, and she knew she
should.  Damnation should have a damned good reason, especially if chosen.
At last,  she spoke, hoping it was the truth. "I'm not ready to die."

      This time his voice growled in her head, the softness gone.  "Natalie,
you will come back, now!  Drink!"  She felt something cold sliding into her
mouth, choking her.

      "No!"  Her mother slapped her, the sting rocking her from LaCroix
grasp.  "You will not leave me, you ungrateful chit."

      Natalie whimpered as her mother's face melted into that of Nana's.
Overhead, the sunlight disappeared, replaced with a blood red sky and sable
clouds.

      "Natalie! Listen to me very carefully...Drink, or you will die."  The
harsh voice whispered along their connection.  She still stared at the
knightmarish tableau before her.  Thoughts of dying forgotten in the
horrible moment.  Thunder crackled on the horizon, and her grandmother
crowed in bone chilling laughter.

      "Drink Doctor..."  The warning note, brought her back to herself.
Just like LaCroix, scare the dying woman.  His blood still dripped into her
mouth, and as she was trying to swallow, he continued.  "Doctor,  if you
die,  your dear friend Schanke won't see the sunrise."  Right, mustn't
forget to threaten the dying woman too.  She gulped a mouthful of the
liquid, forcing it down her dry throat.

      The blood flooded into her starved body,  filling the collapsed veins
and nerves with golden fire.  She felt it spreading across the networks of
cells in her body, changing them, and moving on,  it's progression too late
to stop now, even had she wanted to.  Reaching up, blindly with her hands,
she secured the source of her salvation.



      LaCroix held her naked body against him, enjoying the aftermath of the
best sex he'd had in centuries.  When her heart slowed it's beating, ready
to stop, he hurriedly bit into his wrist, bringing it to her mouth.  She was
his now, and nothing come heaven or hell would stop that.  Not even her own
stubbornness.  "Drink dear,  join me in eternity."  The blood poured from
his wrist, filling her open mouth, and spilling out the sides.

      When she failed to respond, he shook her.  "Come on, Natalie drink!"
He didn't care for the note of fear in his voice, he'd lived two thousand
years without emotions, now was not the time for their sudden appearance!

      He used his other hand to push her head into his wrist, sealing it
there.  If she didn't drink, then he would force it down her.  "Natalie,
come back to me."  Begging was so undignified, he curled his lips in
distaste.  Ordering was so much more...expedient.  "Natalie! You will come
back, now!  Drink!"  He practically roared at his unconscious companion.
Her skin slowly cooled in the air, and her heart fluttered weakly in her
beautiful chest.  There was no time for this.  Grim, he took her hand in
his, pressing it, hoping somewhere she heard him.  "Natalie, listen to me
very carefully...drink, or you will die. Drink! Doctor!"

      Still no response,  he frantically combed his mind for any motivation
to make her drink.  Deepening his voice, he magnified every threatening
note, "Doctor, if you die, your dear friend Schanke won't see sunrise."  He
was rewarded with a weak swallow, almost imperceptible, but there.

      Oh, Doctor, you are so predictable.  He leaned back in relief, letting
her draw as much strength from his blood as he could spare.  She reminded
him of the Nicholas from centuries ago, but stronger, smarter, and more
practical.  He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up.  She'd make a fine
addition to his family indeed, and a very fine addition to his bed.  He wasn
't prepared for the bite.



      She felt him rumble in quiet laughter.  "Good, Natalie, very good."
The hellish plain had disappeared,  and the blurry form of LaCroix stared
down at her, his expression unreadable.  She closed her eyes against the
disorientation, eagerly swallowing the blood from his gashed wrist.  When it
didn't flow fast enough, she instinctively bit down.

      LaCroix sucked in his breath, resisting the urge to tear his wrist
away.  With his free hand, he pulled her hair back until her teeth loosened
their hold.  "Do Not, do that again."  He growled the warning out.

      Natalie mewled low in her throat,  the pain from her head adding to
that in her stomach.   If she could have curled into a fetal ball, she would
have.

      Frowning at her discomfort, LaCroix stretched out beside her.  In all
the people he'd brought across, she was the only one who had ever dared to
bite him like that.  Cupping her face in his palm, he soothed the crease in
her forehead.  The pain concerned him,  it never happened unless something
was wrong.  She'd taken forever to respond to his call, and now this.   He
popped the cork of a bottle with his teeth, and spit it across the room.
The only possible solution was forcing his blood down her until there was no
question of her strength.  He did not make weak fledglings.

      He drained two bottles in quick succession, and leaned back into the
pillows.  An hour later, she still suckled, but with less urgency.  When her
muscles relaxed against him, he breathed in relief,  the worst of it over.

      He stared up at the ceiling,  grateful beyond his own expectations
that she'd chosen to return.  At one point, she may have been Nick's, but
now she belonged to him.

      Her breathing evened out into sleep and he carefully lifted his wrist
from her mouth, willing to put it back if she showed the slightest signs of
fighting him.  She didn't.  Instead, she rolled onto her side and flung an
arm across his chest.

      He luxuriated in the comfort of her embrace.  She'd sleep the rest of
the day,  plenty of time to get some sleep himself.  He pulled the velvet
covers up over them both, and wrapped his arms around her.  The wave of
possessiveness, took him back across the centuries to a garden in France.

      Fleur smiled in his imagination, her courage and innocence mirrored
into Natalie.  In appearance, the two women were nothing alike, but inside,
that was an entirely different matter.  Natalie, for all her cynicism, her
brashness, still held an innocence, untouched by the horrors constantly
around her.  She not only stood up to him, she did it with humor.

      He knew now, that Nick, for once in his life, had been right.  Fleur
would never have survived the transformation.  After her first kill, she
would have walked into the sun, without looking back.

      He didn't know if this was a second chance, but for once in eight
hundred years, he was willing to take the chance.  Fleur smiled and faded
away.  He found himself looking into the peacefully sleeping face of his new
fledgling.

      "God help you, Natalie, if you ever betray me."  He surrendered to
sleep,  unconsciously spooning against her.



      He woke first, and slipped from the bed.  She stirred a little,
seeking the lost warmth, but settled back into sleep.  The candles fizzled
in their holders, most of them gutted.  He pulled his blue terry cloth robe
from the closet and belted it around his waist.  The hot tub, the first
thing in his normal routine would wait until Natalie was fed and able to
join him.

      He padded into the kitchen and took out four of the bottles.  A pity,
for a first meal, she deserved something living,  a criminal perhaps, or a
willing victim.   Too bad there had not been time to procure one.  He had
asked Miklos to pick out a likely candidate this Friday, but that was before
plans had changed so abruptly.  Cursing his son, he set to work.

      Taking out the stew pot, he filled it with water and set it to heating
on the stove.   While they were warming up, he returned to the bedroom and
took up a chair next to the bed.    He flipped through the book by Bill O'
Reilly, scanning the words, while keeping an eye on his patient.

      She tossed and turned in her sleep, whimpering nonsense every now and
again.  It wouldn't be long now, he retrieved the warm bottles and popped
the cork out.

      "Mom!"  A panicked Natalie, screamed in anguish.  Sitting straight up
in the bed, her eyes flew to meet his.  Their golden glow, matching his.

      It didn't take long for her surroundings to register, even through the
red haze.  She squelched the fear, straining to control her wildly
fluctuating emotions.  "LaCroix?"

      "Welcome back, Doctor." He sat next to her and held out the open
bottle.

      The smell reached her,  the itch in her gums turned into a burning
ache above her canines.  She pushed experimentally at them with her tongue,
two bumps bulged down, covered with a thin layer of skin, a steady pressure
behind her teeth.  Her new teeth were coming in.    They burst through, in a
rush of pleasure and pain, their sharp points almost piercing her tongue.

      She snarled, more in reaction to the sudden pain in her mouth than
anything he'd done, and grabbed the bottle.  She brought the precious stuff
to her mouth and gulped it down.   Her fangs ached, sending wave after wave
of rapture through her body as the blood ran over them.   She regained her
control after the second bottle,  coming to her senses as realization set
in.

      "Enough."  She passed the bottle back to him.  She'd really done it.
For better or worse, she faced immortality now,  with LaCroix as her master.
Still naked under the covers, she smelled the evidence of his possession.
She prayed she'd made the right decision.  That glimpse of heaven.... She
left the thought unfinished.  The way it ended didn't seem much like a
heaven.

      "Feeling better?"  LaCroix took the empty bottles and set them on the
nightstand.  She nodded, and leaned into his shoulder, the soft terry cloth
cushioning her cheek.  Underneath, his skin radiated the warmth of a fresh
feeding,  and he smelled of cinnamon and roses.  She could rest here for
hours.

      "Yes, thank you."

      "You are very welcome, my dear.  The pleasure, I assure you, was all
mine."  He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

      The teasing action, so out of character from his normal, serious
demeanor,  made her giggle.  She'd never considered the morning after, and
sitting here, naked, next to the man she'd despised for the last six years,
confused the hell out of her.   In no scenario could she imagine giggling
with him.  The infectious laugh bubbled up from his robust chest,  spilling
out into the room.  She'd never seen him so unreserved, and it scared her.
She didn't want to fall for this man.  He'd made it very clear that her
feelings would not be returned.  Lifting her head from his shoulder, she
pulled the covers up.

      "So, now what?"  She watched as the joy melted from his face, replaced
with the mask of studied indifference.

      "A bath is in order."  He stood and straightened his robe, jaw
clenched.  "I trust you can make your way there without assistance."

He didn't stalk out exactly, but his movements were stiff, head held high as
he strode from the room.

      Natalie gaped after him, wondering what she'd done this time.  Did she
smell that bad?  She took an experimental sniff, the vanilla in the candles
and the fresh smell of the roses assaulted her nostrils, but nothing
offensive.      Only one way to find out, she stood and looked for something
to wrap around her.  The bedding was a lost cause,  a huge red blood stain
pooled under the pillow,  no doubt soaking through to the mattress.  She
touched it, and brought her finger to her nose.  The cinnamon gave it away,
the blood belonged to LaCroix.  The hunger reared it's head,  tightening in
her stomach.

      No, Nat!  She stopped herself before she licked at it.  You're a
civilized human being,  you will not lick dried blood from your fingers.  In
disgust she wiped it on a clean part of the sheet