Ever the Policeman’s Daughter

 

One

 

"Awaken, mortal!"

The command came suddenly, out of silence and darkness, and for a moment Tracy Vetter thought she had imagined it. But then it came again – "Awaken!" – and she knew it was real. She opened her eyes, momentarily certain that it was the right thing to do, and then regretted it as she was blinded by a bright light shining overhead. She squinted against the harsh light and slowly began to recognize shapes and shadows.

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation: someone had been watching too many detective movies from the forties. She was tied to a chair in the center of the dark room. A single uncovered light bulb hung over her head. The proximity of the light made it difficult to recognize anything else, but she could just make out three human shapes in the shadows. One was directly in front of her – she could just see a few buttons of his black shirt as they caught the light, but his face was hidden by shadows – and two others, very tall and masculine. She recognized their stance without really seeing them: thugs, or bodyguards. How the hell had she managed to get kidnapped without knowing it? The last thing she remembered was getting into bed and turning off her reading lamp.

The center man – the leader, she supposed – turned and spoke to the shadows. "Begin the record. Investigation of one Tracy Vetter of the city of Toronto, mortal." The way he said that last word turned Tracy’s stomach. She turned her head to see where he was looking and just barely made out a table with a man sitting at a computer to type. Even with the glow of the screen, that man’s face remained in shadows like the others. The leader continued. "Specifically, to investigate said mortal’s knowledge of the Toronto Community and in particular her ties to its subjects Vachon, de Brabant and Lucius of Pompeii. To evaluate said mortal’s range and level of knowledge and to determine an...appropriate course of action." She did not need to see him; she could hear the sneer in his voice, and in an instant she realized what was going on:

Enforcers.

Vachon had only mentioned Enforcers once, saying that they were like the police – secret police, more like it – for the vampire Community, and they upheld something called the Code, which she had taken to be some kind of body of laws. He had seemed frightened of them, and he had not frightened easily. She didn’t know what those laws were, but she suspected that "don’t tell mortals about vampires" was somewhere on the list. And now that Javier Vachon had moved on...

"Ms. Vetter, do you admit you possess knowledge of the Toronto Community?"

She swallowed. It was a simple question, with a really simple answer, but the leader – interrogator, she corrected herself – made it strangely frightening. "Yes, I know about vampires in Toronto."

"You were until recently acquainted with one Javier Vachon?"

"Yes."

"You continue to be acquainted with the City Elder, Lucius of Pompeii?"

Who the hell was Lucius of Pompeii? She hadn’t recognized it the first time he had said it, and she knew she had never heard of him before. But the Latin name...he had to be pretty old, even for a vampire. And didn’t Pompeii get buried around the time Jesus died? "No," she said truthfully, "I’ve never heard of him."

"Perhaps you know him by a more modern name, Lucien LaCroix?"

"LaCroix? The Nightcrawler? The owner of the Raven? He’s a vampire?" The knowledge didn’t really shock her. She’d only met LaCroix once, and the guy had given her the heebie-jeebies. It made a perverse kind of sense that he was a vampire, and the City Elder – if that meant what she thought it meant – too. What better way to keep an eye on the kids than to run the Raven? She knew it was a vampire hangout spot. She composed herself. "I’ve only met him once and I never knew what he was until now."

"I see," said the interrogator. He didn’t sound too happy. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost think he was disappointed. There was the faint sound of the court recorder typing. "And Nicolas, duc de Brabant?"

"Who?" she asked, puzzled by the question. That name was unfamiliar as well. The only vampires she had known by name were Vachon and Urs, and Screed, who was gone. She could recognize a few by sight from the Raven, but she knew the Community was much larger than that. She just didn’t know who they were – and as Vachon had told her, she knew it had been safer that way. "I’ve never heard of this one either. I honestly don’t know that much," she said. She could only imagine what the punishment could be – and she wasn’t ready to die. "Vachon’s the only one I really knew. And he’s moved on."

The interrogator stepped up and slapped her. "Do not lie to us, mortal. You will not enjoy the result."

She opened her mouth to stretch her jaw. It had really hurt for a moment. "I honestly don’t know who this one is," she said. "I’ve never heard the name before, and it really doesn’t sound like anyone whose face I might recognize. Honestly, I don’t know that much. Vachon tried to keep me sheltered from the Community. He only told me what little I know in the beginning because I’m a resistor. He tried his best to keep everything a secret from me. Honest."

There was a sound as if the interrogator had growled. His unhappiness at her answer was almost tangible. "Either you are a poor detective, Ms. Vetter, or de Brabant has been even more cautious than we anticipated. Surprising, considering the level of knowledge that doctor has attained." He turned to the recorder. "Read de Brabant’s current incarnation for Ms. Vetter. Perhaps she has been telling the truth," the interrogator ordered.

The recorder complied, typing something into the computer and then reading the results. "Nicolas de Brabant, son of Lucius of Pompeii, brother of Janette du Charme, father of Serena, father of Richard Lambert, father of Janette du Charme, paramour of Natalie Lambert. Formerly Nicolas Brabantine, Nicolas LaCroix, Nicolas du Lac, Nicolas de l’Île, Nicholas Shepherd, Nicholas Chevalier, Nicholas Forrester, currently Nicholas B. Knight. Current occupation: detective, homicide, Toronto Metro Police Department. Age: 801 years."

Nick? What the hell?

 

Two

 

The interrogation lasted two days. The Enforcer would ask her a series of questions – How did you meet Javier Vachon? How many times did he attempt to hypnotize you? How many times have you visited the Raven? How you ever attempted to conceal your knowledge of a vampire’s involvement in a crime in one of your police reports? How often has Nicolas de Brabant hypnotized suspects into confessing their crimes? – which she would answer as best she could. Then, suddenly, the vampires would leave, for minutes, for hours, turning off the light and subjecting her to the complete, pure darkness of the room. At one point she fell asleep, only to jerk awake at the end of a bizarre nightmare that she could not remember clearly. And then they returned and the interrogation began again.

"You continue to insist that your Detective Nicholas Knight is a mortal?" the interrogator asked. Except for the few moments when the recorder had spoken about Nick at the beginning, his was the only voice she had heard. The two thugs – she’d begun calling them Twiddledum and Twiddledee in her head – were silent.

"Yes," she said. She was still puzzled by the Enforcer’s questions about Nick. They seemed convinced that he was a vampire, and pretty old, too. Their file on him had said he was about eight hundred years old. She still couldn’t see it. Nick the vampire? Yeah, right. She didn’t put it past them to try to confuse her with false information. Somehow these vampires struck her as being manipulative that way.

"Tell me, Ms. Vetter," the Enforcer continued, "do you have any...anecdotal evidence to support your claim?"

She thought back over their eight-month partnership. "Well, I’ve known Nick almost nine months now, and I’ve known about vampires about the same length of time. I think I would have picked up on something by now."

"I see," he said, "but you must admit that most vampires are born actors. It is a...requirement for those of us who choose to exist within the mortal world, as Nicolas de Brabant, your Nick Knight, chooses to do. Tell me, have you ever seen Detective Knight in sunlight?"

"No," she admitted, thinking back. "He’s photosensitive or something. I can’t remember the exact name of the disease, but I looked it up when I first met him. There are diseases that can make the sun hurt mortals like it hurts vampires. But he’s had better days. I saw some pictures once, of him and Dr. Lambert and his old partner, and Nick’s in the sun in those. He was trying a new medication, but it started making him sick so he had to stop taking it. The medicine helped him tolerate the sun better."

"A lovely piece of fiction, Ms. Vetter. Would it not also be possible that Dr. Lambert had concocted another of her drugs to subdue the vampire within him?"

"Natalie? She doesn’t know anything about vampires! Besides, she’s a scientist. She wouldn’t believe it anyway," Tracy told him. Natalie and vampires? Yeah, right.

The Enforcer chuckled. "Oh, Ms. Vetter, I see we were unschooled in your ignorance of the Community. It seems your Vachon truly did keep you from the truth. Dr. Lambert has been an...unofficial member of the Community for many years. She is quite the student of vampire physiology. The younger ones, of those who know of her, call her the ‘doctor to the undead’. We have been hoping Nicholas would bring her across for several years now. She would be an excellent addition to our kind."

Natalie as a vampire? Now that’s an image, Tracy told herself. She was having difficulty seeing Nat as this ‘doctor to the undead’. Nat the Vamp was even more absurd.

"Tell me, Ms. Vetter," the interrogator continued, "are you aware of an illness which in recent memory swept through the Community?"

This she knew. "Yes. Vachon got sick, and his friend Screed died."

"And did Detective Knight not also fall ill at that time?"

"Yeah, Nick was sick – wait a sec. Are you trying to say he had the same thing that Vachon and Screed had? He just had a touch of the flu. He was back at work in a day or two."

"Did not Vachon recover rather quickly as well? And LaCroix?"

For some reason she kept forgetting that they were claiming LaCroix was a vampire, too. It made sense, but after thinking of him as just another super-creepy, possibly criminal guy, it was hard to break the habit. So LaCroix had gotten sick, too. If he was really about two thousand years old like they had said, getting sick had to have been quite the surprise. "Yeah, Vachon recovered pretty fast."

"Another service performed by Dr. Lambert. We are greatly in debt to her for that cure. Many of our kind died of the Fever. LaCroix and Detective Knight served as...what is it you mortals say? Ah, yes – they were her guinea pigs, her...lab rats in finding the cure."

Tracy stifled the urge to laugh at the image of LaCroix as a guinea pig.

"Ms. Vetter, have you ever seen Detective Knight eat anything? Mortal food, I mean."

Tracy thought back. "Not much. But he’s allergic to a lot of foods, because of his disease. He’s had a travel mug of coffee or tea a few times."

"Were you not at crime scenes when you have seen this...coffee? Crime scenes with a large quantity of...spilt blood?"

"I’m not sure. Maybe," she conceded.

"Then it may well have been blood he was drinking, in an attempt to keep his human facade in spite of the blood scent?"

There was a brief moment of pure silence as the recorder finished typing. Tracy considered her answer. "It’s possible, but I doubt it," she admitted. "I still say Nick’s mortal. If he’s a vampire, then he probably knows Vachon and he knows that I know about the Community, and he knows he can trust me. He would have told me by now." Then, suddenly, a memory flashed into her mind. "Oh! Okay, I’ve got anecdotal evidence. I saw Nick get whammied by a vampire."

"Oh?" There was a hint of amusement in the Enforcer’s voice.

"Yeah. Vachon hypnotized Nick into forgetting once."

"Ah, yes, Ms. Vetter, that would be rather strong evidence. But you have forgotten; we are excellent actors. Anything to protect our secret." He turned away and made a signal to the Twiddles. As they filed out and left her in darkness again, the interrogator turned back briefly and repeated himself:

"Anything."

 

Three

 

The interrogation resumed a short while later, this time focusing on her relationship with Javier Vachon. She suddenly realized that she really hadn’t known him as well as she thought she had. When they were done, she was escorted by the Twiddles to another room, this one with a bed and a toilette and sink. She was surprised when they left her alone for a while and used the moments of privacy as best she could. After a short while, they brought her some food: a sandwich from some deli, and a plastic cup of orange juice. Can’t have the hostage fainting of hunger, she told herself, and realized that they had been very careful not to give her anything that could be used as a weapon.

She slept restlessly. This, too, she was allowed to do with some privacy, though she did not doubt that someone was standing guard at all times just outside the door. She did not remember her dreams, but knew that they had been disturbing. She awoke feeling a little sick and certainly not rested.

The interrogation continued.

They had apparently deemed her harmless as they didn’t bother with the rope this time. She still sat in the chair, and the light still kept the vampires in shadows, but she was allowed to move her hands as she spoke.

The same pattern arose: a series of questions, then a retreat. Today, however, the recorder remained in the room with her – probably to keep her away from the computer and all their secrets, she supposed.

It was one of those times when the interrogator and his cronies had left the room when she suddenly heard the recorder speak. "I don’t blame you," he said, "for thinking de Brabant is mortal. I’ve met him and he plays it very well."

"You mean Nick?" she asked a few moments later.

"Yes. The last time I saw him, he was going by the name Nicholas Forrester. Tell me, does he still sometimes attempt to grow a beard?"

Tracy laughed. She still didn’t think Nick was a vampire, but she went along with it anyway. "Yes. It’s the most god-awful thing. Almost a goatee."

"Poor fellow. After eight hundred years, I imagine it gets annoying."

Tracy turned in her chair. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I would have thought you knew, Ms. Vetter, since you know so much about our kind already. You are forever as you were when you were brought across. You can cut your hair, you can shave, but it will eventually grow back, and it won’t grow any longer than it had been that fateful night. Nicolas de Brabant had just suffered through a lengthy trip over land and sea, and had been a tad...scruffy at the time, you could say."

"Hm." She flexed her arms and cracked her knuckles.

"You still do not believe that your Detective Knight is one of us, do you?" It was not really a question.

"No," Tracy said. "I’ve heard enough that I admit it’s possible, a very small possibility, but I still don’t believe it."

"I see," said the recorder. There was moment of quiet as he seemed to think about something. "I do not know yet what decision will be made about you, but if you ever see your partner again, ask him who Fleur is."

"Fleur?" Tracy repeated.

"Yes, Fleur." He typed something into the computer and then read what came up. "All records for Nicholas B. Knight indicate that the detective has no living family, and was an only child. Nicolas de Brabant, on the other hand, had a younger sister, Fleur, who died in 1238. Ask him if he has any siblings. A mortal Nicholas would know his answer immediately, and it would be ‘no’. A vampire Nicholas may hesitate or evade the question. Fleur was very...precious to him. As was common even a hundred years ago, all other siblings died in infancy. Fleur was some ten years younger as a result."

"How do you know all this?" Tracy asked, a little suspicious.

"Records. We have always kept records on our kind. We know almost everything."

"Almost everything? Okay, then how did Nick and Natalie meet?" To be honest, she had been a little curious about that. Nick and Nat always seemed so close, but it was as if they were always trying to hide it. She had finally given in and dropped a few dollars into the station pool a few months earlier.

"When he first moved to Toronto in 1990, Nicholas was severely injured in an attempted robbery. The mortals believed him truly dead and he was transported to the medical examiner’s office. Dr. Natalie Lambert was the coroner on duty. It is postulated that he regained consciousness at some point during her examination. She was made to forget the incident and the ‘body’ simply disappeared."

Tracy frowned. "Then how does she know about vampires if he whammied her?"

"She is a resistor. When he sought her out a few nights later, to ‘check up on her’, you could say, she remembered. Resistors of her strength can be hypnotized with some effort, but the memories return gradually after some time, or outright when triggered. Seeing Nicholas was a sufficient trigger to return her memories."

She felt his eyes on her suddenly and fought the urge to get a glimpse of his face. He had been surprisingly forthcoming. "And me?"

"You are a resistor of greater strength than Dr. Lambert. It would take a very, very old vampire to hypnotize you into forgetting something. And even then, the proper trigger might bring it back. Vachon was much too young. Nicholas is likely too young as well. But there are those among us who have sufficient strength and power to do so."

Well, that was a relief. At least now she knew her memories were still her own, untampered.

 

Four

 

In the wee hours of the morning – her hands being free meant that she had discovered that whoever had dressed her when kidnapping her had not neglected her watch – the Enforcer returned. He did not speak, except to order her to stand up and come with him. It seemed that the interrogation was over.

They climbed a flight of stairs and she found herself on the roof of a tall building. She had the urge to walk closer to the edge, to see more easily just where in Toronto she was, but was prevented from doing so by the strong arms of the Enforcer. And then he blindfolded her.

She panicked – wasn’t blindfolding standard operating procedure for being shot? – and then panicked a second time as she felt her feet leave the solidity of the rooftop, the Enforcer’s arm still tight around her. Maybe she wasn’t going to be shot; maybe they were going to let her plummet from a high altitude. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.

After a while her fear subsided and she began to enjoy the sensation of flying. It was kind of fun, and if they were going to just drop her, they probably would have done so by now.

She almost twisted her ankle when they landed, and then she stumbled when the Enforcer removed the blindfold. They were standing right outside her apartment building.

Are they letting me live?

She blinked, looking at the Enforcer, whose face she could finally see in the light of the street lamps. He didn’t look much older than she was and he had surprisingly warm-looking brown eyes. They were almost kind. He had light brown hair, short and neat, and his skin was fair, unlike Vachon, who still had a hint of olive from his mortal days. In a word, he was handsome – she had to admit that. It seemed to be the default setting for vampires.

"We will inform you of our judgement in three days, Ms. Vetter. Do not leave Toronto. Do not tell anyone of your time with us. Enjoy your life, while you still can," he said in a guarded, almost emotionless tone.

And then they disappeared into the sky.

 

 

She was awakened that evening by the phone ringing. She groaned and turned over, trying to ignore it. It kept ringing. She gave up.

It was Nick. "Are you okay, Trace?" he asked in a genuinely concerned tone. "You don’t sound too good."

"I’m all right," she said. "Didn’t sleep too well is all."

"Are you okay to work tonight? We just got a call and Reese wants us to come in just a little early to get started on it."

She sighed. Another night, another dead body. "Yeah, I’ll be fine. Pick me up in twenty? I’ll feel human after a shower."

"You’re sure? You don’t sound too well rested for someone who just had two nights off."

"Yes, Nick," she told him. "I’m fine. See you in twenty," she added and then hung up on him.

He was too damn annoying to be a vampire.

She shrugged at that and made her way to the bathroom.

No wonder no one had collected on the pool yet. He must drive Nat crazy.

 

 

As usual, Nick was cool, collected and looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine. The world needed more guys like him, she had decided long ago – most guys had no fashion sense whatsoever. "Hey, Nick."

"Tracy." Leaning against his car – no vampire would be caught undead around that green monster – he gave her a good once-over, as if confirming that, yes, she was still in one piece and in good health to boot. He seemed to be satisfied. "It sounds like a suicide, but you know the drill. We have to make sure. Natalie’s already on her way."

For once Nick did not seem inclined to turn on the radio. That was just as well – he always seemed to want to listen to the Nightcrawler, and the idea of listening to a guy who might be a two thousand year old vampire was even less pleasing tonight than most nights.

"Tracy," said Nick after a few moments, "it’s not really any of my business, but have you been smoking?"

Tracy frowned – and then remembered that the Enforcer had smelled of cigarette smoke. Not surprising if he hung out at places like the Raven most nights. "No," she said after a moment, "but I went out yesterday evening. I must not have washed all of the smoke out of my hair." It was a weak excuse, and she couldn’t smell the smoke-scent anymore – but if Nick was a... She refused to finish the thought.

"Okay. I guess that must be it," he said, staring at the stop light.

A few more moments passed.

"Nick," she began gathering a little courage and yelling at herself for believing a stupid techie vampire, "do you have any brothers or sisters?" There. She had asked the question.

"Why do you ask?" His tone was hesitant.

"You strike me as the big brother type and I was just wondering," she said. "And I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a brother or a sister. I asked my dad for one for Christmas one year, but I never did get one."

He was quiet. For a minute she thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. "I had a younger sister," he said softly. "She died a long time...well, it feels like it was a long time ago."

Tracy blinked. Could the vampires have been right?

"We were really far apart, age-wise," Nick continued, still speaking very softly, "so I was already...out of the house by the time we could really be friends. I never got to see her as much as I wished I could. I wasn’t around when she died. I never got to say goodbye."

"I’m sorry," Tracy said sympathetically.

He turned to look at her and gave her a weak smile. "It’s okay. She...Fleur is in a better place now."

Fleur. That had been the name the vampire had told her.

"Fleur," Tracy repeated hesitantly. "That’s an unusual name. Almost exotic."

Nick nodded. "A little."

"But you got saddled with the very normal Nicholas. How’d that work out?"

"One of those Catholic patron saint deals. And my father had a friend by that name. My mother named Fleur." He looked at her again, a pensive look on his face. "But my mother was...from Belgium. The French-speaking part. So she always called me Nicolas."

Nicolas. Tracy held in a shudder. Nicolas, as in Nicolas de Brabant? Or what?

"So I guess, for you anyway, we both had unusual names," Nick continued. He parked the car. Tracy looked up and realized that they had arrived – black and whites with lights surrounded an ambulance right in front of them. Nick took her hand in his and held it for a moment. "Tracy, I haven’t told anyone about Fleur in a long time. I’ve never even really told Natalie. So could you please not tell anyone? Please?"

His hand was cool. Not quite cold, but it was definitely cool. She would almost say it was vampire-cool. Could she have been wrong about Nick? "Yeah. Sure. I won’t tell anyone," she promised. Besides, in three days the Enforcers might kill me, so it’s not like I’ve got a lot of time to blab about your dead sister to the world. "Don’t worry about it."

"Thanks, Tracy." He gave her hand a little squeeze and began to climb out of the car. After a moment she followed him.

They found Dr. Laura Haynes dead in her bathtub, wrists slit and the water turned red with blood. And Natalie, sitting in shock in the next room.

 

Five

 

Laura Haynes had been dead only a few hours. A neighbor, concerned by the psychiatrist’s recent recidivism, had stopped by and found the door unlocked.

"Psychiatrist," said Tracy. "I’m guessing nobody saw this coming." And what will they think when they find my body? Or will the Enforcers let them find me at all?

Nick sighed, standing beside her. She turned to look at him and saw that his gaze was fixed squarely on Natalie. Just friends. Sure. And I’ve got a deed to the CN Tower for sale... It was obvious how much he cared for her. What was keeping them apart?

The interrogation with the Enforcer was constantly on her mind. Was Nick really a vampire? She had seen an odd look on his face when they had entered the bathroom and saw the dead woman in her bathtub. Had the smell of her blood affected him? Or had it simply been the image of the woman in the blood-tainted water? She had grimaced at the sight herself; one of the rookie uniforms had gotten sick. Nick’s expression hadn’t necessarily meant he was a vampire. If she was honest with herself, Nick being a vampire would explain a lot, but it wasn’t really a question of logic. That wasn’t what concerned her. If he was a vampire, then it meant that some of her closest friends had systematically lied to her and had worked to keep the truth from her – even though there was a good chance that they knew that she knew about the Toronto Community: Vachon, Nick, Natalie. She wasn’t prepared to accept that her friends had so easily lied to her for eight months.

But it would explain Nick and Nat’s ‘just friends’ nonsense.

"Not even one of her closest friends," Nick was saying. He turned to look back at Natalie. "I guess you never really know your friends, do you?"

Tracy bit back a sarcastic remark. Even if Nick was what the Enforcers claimed he was, now was not the time to chew him out for it. But his question had certainly struck a chord with her. "No, I guess not," she said after a moment.

"Trace, do me a favor and finish here," he finally said. "I want to get Nat out of here."

"Okay." She couldn’t imagine how Nat was feeling, what she could be thinking. The woman had addressed her suicide note to Natalie. There was something deeply wrong and disturbing about that.

She watched Nick walk over to Nat and place a soft kiss in her hair. He was so old-fashioned sometimes. He was always giving Nat little kisses like that, on the cheek or in her hair – never a real kiss on her lips. Somehow he made it seem romantic and courtly.

He whispered something to Nat that Tracy couldn’t quite hear, but the coroner finally responded. If anyone could help Nat, it was Nick, Tracy supposed to herself. As they left, one of the officers, Marsh, came up to her and watched. "Just friends, my ass," said Marsh. There had been two new uniforms at the scene. Marsh had been the one who managed not to get sick. "How much longer do you think we’ll have to keep the pool running after this?"

"Shut up, Marsh," she told him angrily. "That’s none of your business. And certainly not at a time like this. Natalie’s friend just committed suicide. Use a few brain cells, wouldja?"

Marsh stared at her, struck dumb by her vehemence.

"Do your job," she continued. "Go log the evidence. And there better not be any mess ups, or I will personally kick your ass."

He left her with a startled "Yes, ma’am."

Tracy sighed. This was not a good night. ‘Enjoy your life while you still can,’ the Enforcer had told her. What life?

 

 

The precinct was all abuzz with the news of the suicide, and that Dr. Lambert had been personally escorted away by Detective Knight. A few extra dollars had found their way into the pool. Tracy suddenly found the whole thing crude and distasteful. Had the vampire Community had a pool on her and Vachon? They had probably been a source of gossip: the masterless, laze-about vampire and his mortal police officer girlfriend. His clueless mortal girlfriend, if the Enforcers had been right.

The only one who seemed to be keeping a sane head on his shoulders was Captain Reese. She was glad for that: he was a rock of propriety badly needed tonight. "How’s Natalie holding up?" he asked.

"Not well," Tracy told him. "You know, I think a suicide note addressed to her was kind of a mean thing to do." She sighed. "Nick’s staying with her."

Reese nodded. The look on his face told her that he had heard the gossip running through the rumor mill and didn’t approve of it one bit.

"Anyway," she continued, "there’s no suggestion of foul play and everyone seems satisfied that Laura Haynes is a suicide, so..."

"So?" Reese prompted.

"So, I was thinking of writing it up as such and...maybe...knocking off early for tonight? Captain, I...I feel something coming on..." She hated lying to the captain, but what could she have said? I’m starting to freak out because in a couple of days I know I’ll be dead and it’ll be as senseless as this suicide?

Reese accepted her excuse, but she wondered if he really believed her. "Okay," he said. "The flu’s going around. Tell you what – go home, get some rest, get in bed–"

He was interrupted by a commotion in the back of the room. "What in the hell?"

 

 

Nick answered promptly. She had anticipated his cell phone being turned off, seeing as how he was supposed to have taken Nat home and comforted her. "Knight."

"Nick, we’ve got a situation here at the precinct. Guy with a gun, a hostage, all sorts of badness. I hate to pull you from Natalie, but..." Tracy didn’t know what really to say.

"I’m on my way," he said and then hung up.

Tracy stared at the phone for a moment and then shook her head. As quietly as she could, she made her way to the hall that lead to the locker room.

 

Six

 

Nick had arrived sooner than Tracy had expected. Had he flown? Vampires could fly pretty fast, she knew, and if Nick was a vampire...

God, she was going to need therapy for this. If she lived long enough. Where there therapists who knew about vampires? If doctors like Natalie knew, then –

Her thought was cut short by the sound of Nick’s voice. "Dawkins? Dawkins, it’s okay. It’s me, Detective Knight."

"Knight? You better tell me you got a big body bag," Dawkins told him, "cause that’s the only way I’m goin’ outta here."

Continuing her silent approach, Tracy watched the two men in front of her in the shadowy room. She aimed her gun at Dawkins.

"Dawkins, listen to me," Nick said in a calm tone. Was he even armed? Tracy wondered. "You really don’t want to die. And I don’t want you to hurt anyone. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for that, now would you?"

"I’m telling you!" Dawkins exclaimed. "I’m not going back!" he pointed his stolen gun at his own head.

Tracy inched closer.

"Dawkins, listen to me," Nick continued in that calm, authoritative tone. Where had she heard that before? "Put the gun down on the floor."

Was Nick trying to hypnotize him?

"Kneel down, and lay the gun very gently on the floor."

She could see the change in Dawkins. He lowered the gun. "On the floor," he repeated –

And then the power came back on and the spell was broken. Tracy heard a scream from Dawkins and then the sound of a gunshot.

The gun had been aimed at Nick. Point-blank range. Easily fatal.

Nick didn’t even fall.

Instead, he lunged at Dawkins, who paused in surprise. It’s not everyday you shoot a cop and he keeps on going, a little voice in the back of Tracy’s head said. Suddenly Dawkins wasn’t looking at Nick, he was looking at her. Nick turned, following his gaze, and their eyes met.

Nick’s eyes were the golden hue of a vampire.

The bullet that hit her moments later only hurt a fraction more than the realization that their friendship and partnership had been built on a lie.

The back of her head hit the tile wall and she felt herself slide down to the floor. It was cold, she noted to herself. Her eyes never left Nick and suddenly she realized that he was kneeling beside her. She noted his yellow eyes, the descended fangs, the brief flare of his nostrils. She wondered if her blood smelled good to him. He was too together for a carouche, so he had to be a normal vampire. And that meant he liked human blood. Just like Vachon.

She could hear him yelling her name. He almost looked scared, even with the golden eyes and the fangs. Nick never looked scared. "You could...have trusted me," she told him. As she began to lose consciousness, the name came back to her: "Nicolas de Brabant," she added.

The world went black.

 

 

The world was black and silent. She floated in the darkness, uncertain and not caring where she was or what had happened.

Slowly, there were sounds.

Voices. And then a strangely familiar beep, a rhythmic sound.

Snatches of conversation.

"If she doesn’t pull through...I’m just saying, I know what it’s like to lose a partner."

"If she dies...it’s my fault."

"Why is it so easy to consider bringing her across and so impossible to consider bringing me?"

"Guard the door. Convince the doctors that they need not attend to her."

"Our judgement has been made, Ms. Vetter, but the ultimate choice remains with you."

Silence.

Nothingness.

 

 

"Have you made your choice yet?"

The voice was unfamiliar. Tracy opened her eyes, turning around to find herself looking at a dead woman.

"Have you?" the woman repeated.

Laura Haynes was as pale as she had looked the last time Tracy had seen her, on the stretcher outside the house as the EMT zipped up the body bag. "You’re dead," Tracy suddenly said.

Laura nodded. "It happens to all of us, eventually. To me a little sooner than most."

She stared at the dead woman. "Am I dead?" she asked.

Laura shrugged. "Maybe. It’s your choice."

"Why am I talking to you? If this is some kind of near-death experience, why aren’t I talking to my grandmother or Aunt Jeanie or someone I actually know?"

Laura laughed. "How do you know I’m really here at all? Perhaps I’m a figment of your imagination."

Tracy looked around. She didn’t recognize the room. It was huge and empty feeling. There was a grand piano in the corner, and paintings of the sun on the walls. Big picture windows with strange metal shutters on them. Odd couches and antique furniture. Overall, it had a masculine vibe.

She turned to Laura. "This is Nick’s place, isn’t it?" she asked.

"Perhaps."

Great. A non-communicative, non-cooperative corpse.

She heard a door open. Natalie. She looked so tired, and she was fighting tears. Tracy watched as the coroner set down her purse and coat on the couch and began to roam the room restlessly. Nat had a kind of familiarity with the room. She must spend a lot of time here, Tracy thought.

Suddenly a strange look – fury? – appeared on Nat’s face and she picked up something large and made of glass from a shelf and threw it at the wall. It shattered. "Damn it, Nick!" Nat screamed. "Why her? Why her and not me?"

The words sounded strangely familiar but Tracy could not place them. Before she could ask Laura about it, the phone rang. Natalie answered it, once again fighting the urge to cry. "Yes...yes, I’ll tell him. Yes, we’ll be there. Thank you for letting us know. Thank you."

"It’s time to make your choice, Tracy," said Laura. "Now, or it will be too late."

"If I go back, I’ll be dead in a couple of days anyway. The Enforcers are going to kill me."

Laura smirked. "Don’t worry about them. There’s only one question: do you want to live or do you want to die?"

There was no need to think about it. "Of course I want to live. I’m not like you."

"Then go back. Return. Live."

She felt a kind of tug and went with it. There was a man’s voice – a voice she had heard somewhere before – but she couldn’t make out the words. She followed it and the tugging.

Just before the world went dark again, she heard Natalie’s voice:

"Nick, Tracy Vetter disappeared from the hospital twenty minutes ago."

 

Seven

 

Levi Grisham was the first of his family to be born in the colonies. His elder sister had been born in England, but he had never seen that fabled civilized land, which he was told was much different from the Massachusetts colony. His father served as constable in their little corner of the world, and grew maize and flax and all manner of other things to eat on their plot of land. The elder Grisham did not approve of the hints at insurrection that had been heard of in Boston, in Philadelphia, in Virginia, but Levi had heard speeches from learned men who had come from those parts. England was far over the ocean, a place separate from their lives in the colonies. The colonies, he was told, were larger than all the isle of England! By what right did the good lords of Britannia continue to have sovereignty over Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania, and the frontiers further west? He felt himself compelled to serve a cause he knew to be just.

He had not intended to die. A man in fine but dark garments stood over him, a devil with glowing eyes, surveying his dying body. "I am in need of an apprentice," said the dark man. He had emerged from shadows and darkness. Levi struggled to try to say a prayer, a prayer against the power of the Dark Lord who would try to capture the souls of the pious and dying. The dark man laughed. "Yes," he said, "I think you will serve well. My brethren will be pleased." He bent down and brushed the long hair from Levi’s neck...

 

...Her name was Maggie and she had come to Vancouver decades ago. There had been a child, and a man, and they had both died, and she was alone now. She had no family. Her job was sent overseas. She couldn’t find a new job, and she couldn’t afford to move elsewhere to try something new. She couldn’t pay rent. She couldn’t buy groceries. There was a shelter she went to, sometimes, when it was cold, or the pedestrians were stingy with their pocket change. She knew she was dying, but she didn’t care. Let the monsters take her. She had nothing to live for anymore, anyway...

 

...Janette had been surprised to find the fledgling on the doorstep of her new club, but did not question it. There had been a reason why this newly made vampire – she hadn’t even awakened yet or experienced the First Hunger – had been abandoned to her care. She had had the reputation in Toronto of being someone who could help, and this infant needed her help. And her age meant that she could offer experience to her new student. What would Nicolas think of this? And wasn’t this blonde infant his mortal partner with the police? How had –

 

"Slowly, petite, slowly."

Tracy opened her eyes, blinking several times before the world came back into focus. There was something wrong with the world – a golden, almost ruddy haze covered it. There was a taste in her mouth that was new but almost familiar.

"Sh, petite. Calm yourself." The voice was soft and feminine, one that she thought she had heard before. She concentrated on trying to calm down and slowly the world lost that golden haze. "Where–" she started and then swallowed and tried again. "Where am I?"

"Vancouver, petite. I do not know how or why you were taken from Toronto, though I have some suspicions. How do you feel?"

Janette. That was her name. Janette. She had met the woman earlier in the year, on a case. She had seemed to know Nick... "All right, I guess," Tracy said after a moment. In truth, she felt great. A little sleepy and confused, but physically fine. How could that be? "I was shot. I was dying, I know I was..." She clutched at her stomach, trying to feel for the bullet wound. It should be there, there should be blood, it should hurt. Something wasn’t right.

She was having trouble thinking. There was a feeling throughout her body as if some deep, dark, necessary urge had been fulfilled.

"Yes," said Janette, "you were dying. But someone decided not to let you finish doing so, petite. You were visited by Enforcers, were you not?"

Tracy sat up. She had been reclining on a couch – a very comfortable one at that – in a lavishly decorated living room. It was full of antique furniture of varying eras and little objets d’art, some made of glass and crystal that caught the light. Everything was clear and bright, but she could tell that only a few low lamps were on. Something had happened to her eyes. She was seeing too clearly. "Enforcers. Yes," she finally said. "But how did you –" She looked at Janette.

Janette was a vampire.

"Oh."

The vampire raised one perfect eyebrow. "Oh?" she prompted.

"You’re a vampire. That explains it. And you’re a friend of Nick’s, aren’t you. Suppose you could let him know that I’m okay? I have this vague memory of being in the hospital, but I don’t remember leaving, so people are probably wondering what happened to me."

Janette laughed. "Yes, petite, I am a vampire. Do you not know what you are?" She turned to the small table beside her. A tall wine bottle and a glass stood on it. Ever graceful – Tracy had to admit that was something worth being jealous of – Janette uncorked the bottle and poured into the glass.

Tracy found herself transfixed on the glass. The world had turned golden again. There was a scent in the air, strangely familiar and enticing. She breathed in deep. Her teeth were beginning to ache. Rubbing her tongue across them seemed to help a little. And then Janette offered her the glass.

There was no thought involved. She snatched it from Janette’s manicured hand and drank the liquid it held with little regard to grace or manners. She didn’t stop to breathe – actually, she didn’t really need to breathe – and instead kept drinking –

 

...Eighteen years old, freshman at the university. Her friends were doing it, and had goaded her into donating as well. ‘Wouldn’t you want someone to have done it for you?’ Angela had said. Angela’s mom had been in a bad car accident the year before, and donated blood had been one of the big factors in saving her life. But Daria hated needles. ‘Don’t be a big baby,’ said Jake. She didn’t like him very much, but he was Angela’s boyfriend and she and Angela were roommates in the dorms, so she tolerated him for her sake. But Tom was different. He smiled at her. ‘I’ll hold your hand if you want,’ he offered. ‘It’s for a good cause, Dar. Just do it this once, okay? Just once is enough to help someone, somewhere. Please?’

Daria gave in. The room was a little cool and the gurney-bed thing was just a little uncomfortable. But the nurse let Tom come with her and he held her hand, like he said he would. ‘You get orange juice and cookies afterwards,’ he said, and then added, just a little hesitantly, ‘That’s food. Does it count as a date then?’

She was feeling just a little lightheaded. ‘Okay,’ she said, and then the nurse came to take the blood away...

 

Tracy looked up at Janette, her eyes widening in realization. The gold haze started to clear again. She looked back down at the glass and then lifted it up to eye level, examining the red liquid that clung to its sides and pooled in the bottom. "This was blood," she said. "You fed me blood. Human blood."

"Yes," said Janette simply. She was motionless in her own chair, watching Tracy.

Tracy looked back at the glass, at the bottle, across the room at all the little knickknacks that should have been too small for her to see, and then back at Janette. She stared at the older woman for a moment and then she felt the power emanating from her.

Janette was old – very, very old.

"Do you understand, petite?" she asked.

Tracy nodded. She swallowed. "I’m a vampire."

Janette smiled, answering the inherent question with a single word:

"Yes."

 

Eight

 

Janette looked the perfect image of a rich socialite, if a tad old-fashioned, even on the telephone. There was something in her manner, in her posture, in the way she held the phone in her perfectly manicured hands. Her nails gleamed in the soft light: blood red.

"Rest, petite," she had told Tracy, and Tracy had complied, feeling like a child being put down for a nap. She didn’t sleep – she had slept plenty already – although she did feel a little drowsy from time to time. She lay on the couch, her eyes closed, and listened. Listened to the sounds of the world, muffled by the walls; listened to the hum of electricity and water being brought up the pipes; listened to the tiny mechanical sounds as Janette dialed a number on the telephone.

And the smells! There was blood, of course, but beyond that there was a hint of vanilla and lavender and something unfamiliar from the unlit candles throughout the room. There were fresh roses in a vase on one table and their scent was strong and intoxicating. There were harsh chemical odors underneath it all, and Tracy realized that they shared the same taste in furniture polish – not that she could imagine Janette taking Lemon Pledge to the antiques that graced the room. She couldn’t see Janette in weekend junkers and sneakers, a dust rag in hand. Janette had a scent all her own, of blood and roses and paprika – and age.

She heard the ring of the telephone as Janette waited for someone to answer on the other end. After several rings it was picked up. "Nick Knight’s residence," a woman said, and Tracy realized who it was in the second that Janette spoke: "Hello, Natalie."

There was a pause and then Nat replied: "Hello, Janette." There was an odd tone to the doctor’s voice. Apparently they knew each other. Natalie didn’t seem too pleased by the acquaintance. "I suppose you’d like to speak to Nick."

"Yes, I would. If it’s no trouble."

"Just a moment, please."

They were civil to each other, courteous even, but Tracy could tell that each woman would rather avoid the other if possible. She wondered what was between them. It probably had something to do with Nick.

In the background, there had been a faint murmur, behind Natalie’s voice, and now it grew louder. Tracy couldn’t quite make out the words, but the voices were clearly nick and Captain Reese. What were they talking about? Probably my lovely disappearance, she told herself.

She could imagine the scene, remembering her odd dream when she was dying. Nick and Reese sitting on one of those weird sofas, Natalie approaching, cordless phone in hand. The faint soundtrack from Janette’s phone accompanied it. "Nick," said Natalie after a moment, "it’s your cousin...Jeanie."

Jeanie?

Janette made a sound that from anyone else would have been characterized as a snort. Was that from the name, or was it the designation of ‘cousin’ that failed to amuse her?

"Hello? Jeanie?" said Nick uncertainly.

"Oui, mon coeur, c’est moi," said Janette in a sultry tone. Cousin. Sure. "You should take yourself somewhere private. Your Dr. Lambert is no trouble, but I do not think the other mortal in your home this evening is prepared to overhear this conversation, Nicolas."

"All right, just a moment." There was a muffling of the sound, as if Nick had put his hand over the phone. A few moments later he was in a different room. "All right, Janette. What’s going on?"

"Nicolas, I received a most interesting gift this evening. Delivered anonymously, of course."

"Janette..."

"Oh, do not worry like that, Nicolas. I know it was not from you. But it did originate from Toronto, mon ange. A fledgling, Nicolas, was abandoned to my care."

"A fledgling?"

"Oui. Tall. Blonde. Answers to the name of Detective Vetter."

Tracy had never heard Nick curse before, and while she had the feeling that it might have been in French – his native tongue, perhaps? – she thought she got the gist of it. She had been horrible at languages in school. A moment passed before Nick spoke again.

"Qu’est-ce que nous allons faire, Janette? Qu’est-ce qu’on peut faire?"

"Rien, Nicolas, rien. She cannot be returned to Toronto – was she not in the hospital? The mortal doctors would want to examine her and there would be an investigation to discover what fiend kidnapped the poor dying detective. Better to let her simply disappear altogether. Let it be an unsolved crime for your mortal friends to puzzle over. Besides, I believe we both know what fiends were involved, and they do not take kindly to mortal ideas of justice, Nicolas."

"Enforcers," said Nick.

"Oui."

"Well, that certainly explains a lot. What would you like me to do, Janette?"

"Come and see us in Vancouver. I do not think I will make much progress with Tracy until you and she put your problems behind you. She has known of our kind for some time now, but only recently learned that you are among their ranks. Bring your Natalie. I am certain she would be interested in examining a very young vampire. For her...research." The way she said it made it clear that Janette did not think highly of whatever Natalie’s research might be. Tracy opened her eyes and looked at Janette.

"All right. We’ll come as soon as we’re able." Nick paused. "Is she still awake? Can I speak to her?"

Janette smiled. "Certainement," she said and handed the phone to Tracy. A little nervously, she spoke. "Nick?"

"Hi, Trace," he said hesitantly. "How do you feel?"

"Not bad," she replied. "A little tired, but a definite improvement over what little I remember of the hospital."

"The tiredness will pass. You’re still young. In fact, I’m surprised you’re still awake. It’s almost dawn." He sighed and then continued. "It’ll be hard, but take it easy for a while. Get plenty of sleep. Just like a human infant, you need lots of rest, and help from your elders. You’ve been abandoned, which doesn’t happen very often, but considering that the Enforcers are involved, I’m not surprised. They don’t exactly pride themselves on their parenting skills. Let Janette help you. You can trust her."

"Okay," Tracy replied, and then asked, "Who is she to you, Nick?"

Nick laughed. "It’s a complicated story, Tracy. But...think of her as my sister. Technically, that’s what she’s been most of the years I’ve known her. My older sister."

Tracy glanced back at Janette. Older sister? If Nick was eight hundred years old, and LaCroix brought him across, and LaCroix was almost two thousand years old, and if LaCroix brought Janette across, too... How old was Janette then? Over a thousand, maybe. Wow.

"All right," she said – and then yawned, reaching up a hand to cover her mouth automatically. "I yawned," she exclaimed in surprise. "I didn’t think..." She stared at her hand.

"I think it’s time for bed, young lady," Nick said with a chuckle. Tell Janette that Nat and I will come to Vancouver as soon as possible and I’ll let her know the details. Then go to bed. You’ve had...an interesting couple of days. You need your rest."

Tracy yawned again. She knew she needed air to talk and to smell all the scents around her, but did she really need to breathe? Isn’t that what yawning was about? She thought back to high school, but couldn’t remember enough from health or biology to know for certain. But didn’t people yawn when they were tired because they weren’t getting enough oxygen? Huh. Did she really need oxygen anymore?

On the other end of the line, Nick chuckled again. "Get some sleep, Trace. I’ll see you soon."

"Good night." She managed to say this without yawning.

"Morning, you mean," Nick joked, and then added, "Bye," hanging up before she could reply. Tracy stared at the phone for a moment and then handed it back to Janette. "They’ll be here as soon as they can. He’ll let you know."

"Yes," said Janette, taking the phone and then standing with her unnatural grace. "I heard. And as your Uncle Nicholas suggested, it is time for you to go to bed." She took Tracy’s hand and pulled her up until the younger woman was standing. "Come, petite. I have a room for you," she said and led Tracy to the back of the apartment.

Tracy could feel the sun coming, could feel the air warm just a little as it did, and with every moment she became sleepier and sleepier. Eventually Janette had to help her undress, and once again Tracy felt like a child. It was strangely comforting, knowing that someone was watching over her, even if that person came in the form of the tres chic Janette.

Sleep now came easily, but her last thought before the darkness took her completely was one of surprise:

Uncle Nicholas?

 

Nine

 

Janette had felt old and powerful that first night.

Somehow, Nick was almost overwhelming.

Tracy had felt their approach for a few moments before they actually emerged from the airport. Janette had felt she wasn’t quite ready to enter the building and be confronted with all the mortal heartbeats and scents, but decided she would be all right remaining with the car at the furthest end of the passenger pick-up lane. It was only right that the driver stay with the car – and since Janette preferred...an alternate mode of transportation, one still inaccessible to Tracy and inappropriate for Nat, the duty had fallen to her. Besides, it would have been dangerous to go flying so close to the airport. Air traffic controllers weren’t prepared for vampires.

She glanced in the mirror, glad that that legend was untrue, and straightened her hair. She sighed at its short length; she had often thought of growing it out longer – it had reached her lower back in high school – but had never been willing to give up the convenience of short hair and its seeming appropriateness for a police officer. This was as long as it would ever get. Forever.

She shrugged. It could have been worse. The doctors could have shaved part of it off in the hospital.

She turned in her seat and watched them approach: Nick and Janette were conversing politely, Natalie walking beside Nick, but not looking too happy about it. Or something. Nick also looked just a little bit uneasy, but nothing could compare to Natalie.

She took a deep breath and gracefully climbed out of the car. If Janette had taught her anything in the last few days, it was how to use the gracefulness that came naturally to vampires. She heard Natalie’s heartbeat quicken a little at her appearance. Tracy watched them approach – and then Nick’s eyes met hers and she trembled just a little. He began walking just a little faster. After a moment he had arrived and was standing in front of her. He clasped her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "It’s all right, Tracy," he told her softly. "I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’m your friend."

Tracy nodded. "You just make a really big impression," she replied a little shakily. "No wonder the perps were always scared of you."

"Nicolas always makes a big impression, don’t you?" said Janette. "Particularly with me at his side. Do you remember, Nicolas, the coronation ceremony? How Josephine tripped when she saw us?"

Nick turned back to Janette. "Now’s not the time, Jeanie."

Tracy held in a giggle as Janette lifted a single perfect eyebrow at the comment. "As you wish, milord," she retorted. "Tracy, open the trunk, petite."

Tracy did as asked, climbing back into the car, forgetting all about grace and posture and how a lady comports herself among guests.

"Nice car," said Nick politely after a few moments, stashing the luggage in the trunk.

"It fulfills my needs," replied Janette. "We are not all of us as reckless and rebellious as you, Nicolas, and the trunk is the only redeeming quality your monstrous automobile has. Besides," Janette added softly, "I believe it reminds Tracy of those patrol cars you police officers sometimes drive, and that comforts her."

It did remind Tracy a little of traditional patrol cars: it was a tank, a Dodge Fury from the mid-1970s. She had giggled at the name: ‘Fury’ had seemed strangely appropriate for a vampire’s car. It was wide and long and had a heavy body that shamed any modern car. Janette had admitted that it had originally been green, but pulling in a few favors had gotten a new paint job and the seats reupholstered – all in black. Tracy had begun to wonder if Janette owned anything that wasn’t black.

Janette directed the seating arrangements: Natalie directly behind Tracy, Nick beside her in the back and Janette in the front passenger’s seat. After a while Janette’s reasoning became clear: it would be harder to grab Nat and drain her dry if she was directly behind her. "She’s starting to smell really good," Tracy whispered, too softly for any mortal ear. Nat might know about vampires, but Tracy really didn’t want to scare her – or attack her.

"I know, petite," Janette replied. "Concentrate on your driving. We’ll be home soon." She squeezed Tracy’s hand in maternal reassurance.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw Nick watching her guardedly. Of course he had heard. "I’m not going to hurt her, Nick," she told him softly. He seemed to relax just a little.

Throughout the exchange, Natalie was silent and motionless, looking out the window. She never gave any indication whether or not she had noticed their little conversation.

 

Janette’s home was, as it had been in Toronto, located above a nightclub. She did not own this one outright, but rather had gone into business with another vampire, who had contributed the capital for the project. Like the Raven, it had become the place to be if you were part of the night shift, and a popular place for the mortals as well. The vampire population in Vancouver was relatively small; it had been larger in decades past, Janette had told her, but the popularity of The X-Files had scared off some of the more fearful of their kind. Janette, as de facto Elder of the city, preferred the smaller population.

It was Tuesday, the one evening a week that the club was closed to mortals, so although the music traveled easily outside the building’s walls, the block was otherwise quiet to vampiric ears. Tracy was glad; after sitting so close to Natalie and her beating heart all the way home from the airport, she wasn’t sure how in control she could have stayed if there had been a crowd of mortals drawing her attention.

She spent most of the elevator ride with her eyes closed, knowing that they had gone golden with hunger, and her hands clenched into tight fists with concentration. The moment the doors opened, letting them into the fourth-floor apartment that was now her home, she bolted for the kitchen, a small room hidden from public sight by partial walls, not caring how her actions might look to Nick or Natalie. As she fed on the chilled blood, she heard Janette direct their guests to their rooms. When she had asked why Janette had needed such a large apartment for just one person, the elder vampire had matter-of-factly replied, "One never knows what the future may hold, and one never knows when family may come calling."

When she was done in the kitchen, Tracy followed them down the hallway. Nick and Nat were given separate rooms, joined by a shared bath. Natalie continued to display a horrible mood. Strangely enough, the doctor conversed politely with Janette, answering the few questions posed to her, but she seemed to be doing her best to ignore Nick. Nick seemed appropriately upset by Natalie’s behavior, and there was a faint look of guilt continually on his face, accompanied by worry.

Tracy lingered outside Nat’s door, left alone as Janette invited Nick into the kitchen, and listened to the mortal unpack and freshen up. "Tracy," Natalie said all of a sudden, "just come on in her already."

Tracy complied. "How did you know I was there?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

Natalie smiled – the first sign of normalcy since she had arrived in Vancouver. "Work with vampires as long and as closely as I have, and you start to develop of sixth sense where they’re concerned," Natalie said. "Besides, you’re probably wondering why I’m so pissed at Nick, aren’t you?"

"Yeah, there is that," Tracy admitted. "It’s so unlike you two. You guys never fight."

Natalie laughed. "Oh, I get mad at him all the time. He might be a vampire, but that’s much less important than the fact that he’s a man. And men do stupid things all the time. No, usually I’m just easier to forgive and move on."

Tracy sat down on the bed, facing Natalie, who was leaning against the headboard, hugging a pillow. "You know, somehow that doesn’t surprise me."

"What? That Nick’s a man?" Natalie joked.

Tracy giggled. "No, that you forgive him so easily. What happened, Nat? You know, other than me disappearing and becoming undead and all that. What’s going on with you? What horrible thing did Nick do this time, man that he is?"

Natalie sighed, the mirth leaving her face. "I’ll tell you, but I want to know one thing first, okay?"

"Anything."

"What were you three talking about in the car? I saw your lips moving in the rearview mirror, but I couldn’t make out the words."

Tracy flushed ever so slightly – a vampire’s blush, undetectable to anyone not as familiar with vampire physiology as Natalie was. "Um, it’s kind of embarrassing."

"Tracy, I’m a doctor whose patients are all dead or undead. I am the closest thing you now have to a physician. You cannot embarrass me or gross me out. Many have tried, but none have succeeded since about the third grade."

"Well, then," started Tracy hesitantly. "I was getting hungry. And you were starting to smell good, okay?"

"See? That wasn’t so bad," said Natalie. "The important thing is that you knew and understood what was going on and you remained in control. That’s good. So, what do I smell like?"

Tracy looked at her. Natalie had accepted her confession so easily! "Um, a bunch of different things. Mostly spices, like hot apple cider. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. Hasn’t Nick ever told you?"

"Never asked him," she replied. "And if I had, well, he hasn’t a clue about chocolate. It’s an invention of South and Central American cultures and Nick became a vampire almost three hundred years before Columbus crossed the Atlantic." Natalie sighed. "You’ve fed now? You’re all right?" she asked.

Tracy nodded.

"And you drink human?"

She nodded again. "Janette says that Nick drinks cow. Is that true?" At Natalie’s hesitant nod, she continued. "She brought me some yesterday so I would know why everyone thinks he’s crazy. It was disgusting. Absolutely revolting. It’s like...a steady diet of plain tofu that’s been dragged through a cow pasture. I couldn’t even swallow it. They’re right: he is crazy."

Nat nodded again. "I’ve slowly come to realize that. And he hasn’t drunk it in a while – he’s gone back to human. It’s been a bad year." She sighed.

"Nat," said Tracy softly, taking the doctor’s warm hand in her cooler one, "why are you so upset with Nick? Is it the blood? Is that it?"

"No," Nat replied. "I understand about the blood. He needs it and I’ve come to realize that it’s really the best thing for him. The protein drinks and the cow’s blood and all the medications I’ve subjected him to over the last couple of years have only been making things worse for him in the long run. And his injuries and the Fever were dumped right on top of everything else. He needs the human blood. I’ve accepted that, and I think I even understand it better than he does. He feels very guilty for drinking it again. No, it’s not about that, Tracy."

"Then what?" Tracy demanded.

Nat took a deep breath. "I asked Nick to bring me across," Natalie said solemnly. "And he refused."

 

Part Ten

Tracy let the admission sink in for a moment before letting out a faint "Oh" in surprise.

Nat wanted to be a vampire.

Well, that was new and interesting.

"I’ve been thinking about it for a long time," Natalie continued. "And to be honest I think I know more and understand it better than anyone in the history of vampirism. It’s an informed choice. I’m not doing this blindly. I’ve been studying vampire physiology for years. I might not be able to explain it all, and certainly there are things that modern medicine simply isn’t advanced enough to explain, but I know almost everything that can be known today. Nick’s kept me away from the Community in Toronto, so there are social aspects that I don’t know about, but I really don’t think anyone could make a more informed choice about it than I can."

Nat took another deep breath. "What it boils down to is the fact that I am in love with Nick and there is nothing either one of us can do about that in our current state. The medicine and technology simply isn’t here yet to make him human again, and mortals and vampires cannot co-exist in the kind of relationship we both want without the mortal likely being killed. I’ve been looking for a reason to move on, to leave Toronto, to leave my job, to leave the kind of life I’ve been leading for some time. Laura’s suicide was the final straw." She sighed before continuing:

"You dying, Tracy, was unexpected, but some tiny part of me said that the timing was perfect, if unfortunate: now Nick had a good reason to move on, too. I hate that I was so selfish to think like that, but it’s true. And I was right. Until we heard that you were missing from the hospital, Nick was considering moving on. LaCroix, his father, offered him a place by his side. And Nick was seriously considering it.

"Nick and I are both burned out. And if we both quit and left at the same time, no one would really wonder about us the way they would if Nick had disappeared and I had stayed on. I know that everyone thinks we’re together, or we’re doing it, or whatever it is they call it. I know about the bets. Schanke had known the two of us less than a month and he started teasing Nick about us being ‘just friends’. And they’re all right: if we were both mortal and human and normal, we would have gone public ages ago. We might even have been married. I don’t know. The only way to be with Nick, to be with him when he does move on, is to be like him. To be a vampire." She clutched the pillow tighter to her chest. "And I don’t think it’s nearly as bad an existence as Nick makes it out to be. Especially today, with our technology and everything. Nick has a lot of guilt over things he couldn’t control hundreds of years ago, and he has an obsession over something that I honestly don’t think he’ll ever get. There are hundreds of other vampires in the world and most of them are probably more decent than he makes them out to be. Just like humans, there’s good and bad amongst them."

Tracy thought over what Nat had said. At random, something struck her. "What do you mean, make him human again?"

Natalie looked back at her. "That’s how we became friends. Nick said he didn’t want to be a vampire anymore, that he wanted to become human again. He thinks it’s his only path to redemption for his sins. If you’ve ever been to his apartment, you probably noticed his obsession with the sun – it’s a running motif in the decor. When we met and I found out what he was and he said that he didn’t want to be that way anymore, I offered my help, as a scientist. After a while we became friends, and a few weeks later he pulled a few strings and became Nick Knight, vampire detective." She smiled. "I joked to him once that it would make a great TV show – a cop show with a twist. He didn’t think it was funny."

Tracy considered this and then giggled. "That could be interesting. I’d watch that, even with cheesy special effects and flashbacks and things."

"Eight hundred years’ worth of flashbacks," said Natalie. "God, the things he’s seen in his life, and what he might be able to see and experience in the future...The different lives he’s lived and the people he’s known...Nick hasn’t been a slacker. He’s always been in the middle of things, by choice or chance, moved in all the proper social circles. I don’t think he understands what a difference he’s made in the world. You have the same opportunity now, Tracy, and I admit I’m jealous. He would deny me these possibilities."

"Why?" asked Tracy. "I mean, if it’s what you want.... And if you want him to do it, rather than putting your trust into some random pair of fangs at the Raven..."

Natalie sighed. "Nick’s not just a vampire, not just a man. He’s a medieval man. Most of the time you can’t tell – he acts so modern. But no matter how long he lives, deep down inside you’ll find that thirteenth-century Belgian crusader knight that he used to be. Part of him will always be medieval. And there’s a mindset – about the world, about women, about love – that will always be there. I’m his icon of mortality. I’m the lady to whom he pledges his sword against the night, against his own inner darkness. I’m the untouchable one, the unattainable one, because he dare not dirty me with his demons. I am too pure and lit up by sunshine." These last words were spoken with a deep anger.

"He thinks he needs to become human again to repent for his sins, for God to forgive him. It doesn’t matter how much he contributes now, how many lives he saves, how kind and charitable he is – it doesn’t matter because he’s a vampire, and vampires are by default evil. But this isn’t the first time he’s been a police officer. He’s been a teacher I don’t know how many times. He was a doctor in the American Civil War. You know the de Brabant Foundation? That’s Nick – his real name is Nicolas de Brabant. He is the kindest, most considerate man I have ever known. But nothing matters because as long as he’s a vampire, he’s damned. And he won’t listen to reason. He won’t listen to me."

Tracy reached out and took Natalie’s hand. The coroner burst into tears. She had never seen Nat cry, not really – even a week earlier, all she had seen were old tear tracks and not the tears and the sobbing. She resisted the urge to hug Natalie, afraid that she would lose control.

After a few moments, Nat released her hand, turned over and began crying into the pillow. Tracy took the opportunity to make her escape – she’d never been one for emotional scenes – only to suddenly hear Janette and Nick arguing in the living room. Great, she told herself, just great. She crept slowly towards the front of the apartment.

"Non, Janette! Jamais. Tu as tort. Natalie ne comprend pas la vie du vampire. Elle désire quelque chose qu’elle ne comprend pas parfaitement. Je ne lui peux pas donner cette vie. Jamais."

"Mais, Nicolas...Combien des ans est-ce qu’elle t’a étudié? Elle a étudié ta physiologie, ta vie, ta...faim. Elle est médicin, elle sait touts tes problémes, toutes tes difficultés...et tes plaisirs. Elle a-t-elle envie de la vie éternelle? Alors, donne-la-lui. Ta belle Natalie la comprend plus comme tu la comprends, je crois, Nicolas. Si elle la désire, donne-la-lui." Janette’s voice was calmer than Nick’s but just as urgent and serious. Tracy wished she had done better with French in school. "Si tu ne lui donnes pas ton sang, alors, je n’ai pas de probléme à lui donner le de moi. Ou à le démander de notre...père. LaCroix a beaucoup d’interesse à ta...médicin aux morts. Ou veux-tu qu’elle aller au Raven ou à mon nouveau club et trouve un autre vampire elle-même? Est-ce que ce n’est pas le mieux quand elle connaît son maître? Quand il est de notre famille? Combien de fois est-ce qu’elle t’a démandé? Elle ne s’arrêtera pas de te poser cette question. Le choix, c’est ton choix, Nicolas. Elle t’a déjà dit son choix."

"Non," Nick growled. "Non." At that moment, Tracy could see the two of them – Janette sitting somewhat calmly in her favorite chair, Nick pacing back and forth. Nick seem so very angry – they had to be talking about Natalie. C’est ton choix. Elle t’a déjà dit son choix. It’s your choice. She’s already told you her choice, Janette had said. Tracy had understood that much.

"Non," Nick said a third time. And marched away to the elevator, letting the doors slam as much as possible before going downstairs.

"Hello, Tracy," said Janette, not even turning to look at her. "I trust Natalie is as well settled-in as Nicholas is?" Her tone of voice made it clear that the answer was not expected to be in the positive.

"She’s crying. She asked him to bring her across, and he said he wouldn’t do it. And there’s something about him being a medieval man and wanting to be human again and who knows what else. She was speaking so...so deeply, from her heart, that it was hard for me to follow."

Janette sighed. "Yes, I know," she said, standing up. "I know exactly what she means. And so it is our duty, Tracy, you and I, to devise some plan to fix this situation." She turned to Tracy. "If you would be so kind as to clean up here and in the kitchen, I will look in on Natalie."

Tracy nodded and watched as Janette walked down the hallway. The older vampire seemed tired and moved slowly, like her feet were weighted. The argument with Nick must have really taken it out of her, Tracy said to herself. I don’t blame her. She collected the empty wine glasses and the bottle, rinsed and washed them and put them away in the kitchen. When she was done, she followed the sound of Natalie crying.

The scene before her surprised her just a little: Janette, cradling Natalie in her arms like a child, whispering motherly nothings to her in a soft voice, and Natalie, who she had thought hated Janette, welcoming the motherly touch.

TBC