THE OTHER SIDE OF EVIL

A Forever Knight Story

by Christine Hantzopulos Hunt

(Inspired by the end of "Partners", but I promise a very different story from "Consequences"....)

LaCroix had sensed their rapture, heard their soft whispers, long before he'd stolen a glance inside Janette's private room. And as he saw them now, oblivious to his presence as they lay entwined together beneath the satin sheets in the aftermath of their lovemaking, he knew.

Nicholas was closer to being theirs again than he had been in a century.

Had Janette worked her magic on him? Or had Nicholas' many disappointments in the recent past led him to abandon his quest for humanity? When the mortality drug had failed him, he had lost so much hope, LaCroix knew. And while it had given him satisfaction to see Nicholas accept defeat, it had pained him as well. For the anguish of his childe was as his own.

He was disappointed in Nicholas, and had been for a long time. But he still loved him, as a father loves a son who has strayed.

Perhaps that was why, in the end, he had let Nicholas believe that he had deceived him--that he didn't love this mortal woman, his Natalie. LaCroix had known the truth; he had felt Nicholas' love, his fear for her life. And in the end, LaCroix's own grief for his long lost One had softened him with a compassion he dared not show. He had allowed Natalie to live, had spared Nicholas the anguish that he himself had known for eight hundred years. He knew in his heart that Nicholas had never intended to bring her across. He would have killed her to preserve her purity, to spare her from what he considered eternal damnation. And her death, though promised long ago in a vow Nicholas had never expected to keep, would have given LaCroix nothing--no release from his own desolation, no sense of retribution. And Nicholas, his friend, his brother, his childe, would have been lost to him forever.

He thought of her now, the young woman who had captured Nicholas' heart. LaCroix could not deny that he had been enchanted with her. Her beauty, her intelligence, her courage to face him unafraid, though clearly she had known all about him.... He could see easily how Nicholas had been totally enthralled by her. And though he would never admit it to anyone, despised even admitting it to himself, LaCroix had been thoroughly captivated by her.

Perhaps this was another reason he had let her go.

Seeing the scene before him now, and remembering the intensity of Natalie Lambert's love for Nicholas, he almost felt sorry for her. What a waste of a pitifully short mortal existence to cling to the hope of a life with an immortal who could never truly be hers. If only she could see how rapidly Nicholas was slipping through her fingers....

On the other hand, he knew that Nicholas still loved her. That his descent into his past life was an act of frustration, of desperation. Natalie's words, her touch, could easily lift him back up into the world of the living....

He was on a precipice, precariously balanced, falling into the pit of darkness. Janette had grasped for him, was drawing him in. And Natalie was probably the only lifeline that could save him.

But were she to know of his betrayal--would she want to?

Yes, Nicholas was falling. And LaCroix would see to it that the fragile tether which connected him to the mortal world were cut once and for all.

Yes, a little honesty, a simple revelation, would do both Nicholas and Natalie a world of good....

Natalie resisted the urge to slam down the phone in frustration as the recording told her for the umpteenth time that the cellular phone she was trying to reach was not in service. She glanced at her watch--nearly five a.m. "Nick, where the hell are you?" she mumbled as Sydney jumped onto the table to grab her attention. She patted him absently between the eyes, as she debated what to do next.

It had been almost two days since she'd heard from Nick. And since rarely a day passed when he didn't call to check in, she'd really begun to worry. She'd checked his apartment, waiting there all night for him to return. His car had been in the garage, but Nick had been nowhere to be found. And as the first rays of sunlight had peeked through the open windows in the loft, her panic had begun to set in.

There was no answer on his cell phone. Schanke had not heard from him since the day before. And Janette had not returned her call....

She nearly jumped as the phone rang. "Hello?" she answered anxiously, praying it would be him.

A deep, seductive voice responded. "You're looking for Nicholas, aren't you?"

Fear gripped her. That voice. That same voice that had been so polite, so soothing, yet filled with a greater evil than she had ever encountered.

LaCroix.

"Where is he? Do you know?" She fought to keep her voice steady.

"He's in danger. And only you can save him."

Her heart was pounding. She could scarcely breathe. "What kind of danger?"

"In danger of losing his soul."

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"The Nightcrawler knows...."

A click. Natalie dropped the phone, reaching for the radio, tuning in to CERK. The same voice, in its smooth sensuous tones, sending a chill through her spine.

"Are you looking for you lover? Have thoughts of him haunted your soul, your desire for him driving you insane with your own unfulfilled passion? Do you wake up at night, after erotic dreams that are nothing more than fantasies, and reach out to find that he isn't there? That he never will be there? Well, where is your lover tonight?

"Once upon a midnight dreary, as you pondered weak and weary; doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; while you nodded, nearly napping, your immortal love was tapping, elsewhere he was gently rapping, rapping on *her* chamber door...seeking comfort, nothing more..."

Natalie's heart froze as LaCroix's witty tongue corrupted Poe's poem for his own perverse purposes. *The Raven*. But what danger....?

"There she took him still beguiling, all his sad soul into smiling; to sate the same immortal thirst as she had before; Dreaming dreams immortals feed on, while helpless mortals they all lead on; seductive eyes and promises as evil as our ancient lore; And as you longed for his deadly kiss, his soul fell into the abyss; To be your lover--nevermore. Quoth the Nightcrawler--'nevermore'."

A malevolent laugh erupted from LaCroix, as if he were impressed by his own cleverness. But Natalie didn't hear him. She was already out the door.

She'd expected to find him at a table, drinking human blood with the same reckless abandon as he had when Monica Howard had betrayed him. And Janette...was she encouraging him in this? The last time she'd called Schanke and Natalie, knowing that Nick had been doing something against his nature, something he would later regret. Janette had seemed to accept Nick's choice, although grudgingly. Yet LaCroix's poem....

Nick was nowhere to be found. But neither was Janette. Natalie found Miklos, talking to the young dark-skinned waitress whose nature Natalie wasn't quite sure of. "I'm looking for Nick," she told Miklos. "I know he's here. LaCroix told me--"

Miklos and the woman exchanged a glance. Clearly the mention of the ancient vampire's name had taken them both by surprise.

"He's with Janette. But they weren't to be disturbed."

Natalie's face turned crimson. Without another word she headed towards the back rooms. The young woman called out to her, but Miklos held her back. "No. If LaCroix sent her, there has to be a reason--"

Her heart was pounding. The words of LaCroix's verse seemed to make sense in a way she didn't want to believe. But she had to know. And the fear that he was in some kind of danger still nagged at her. She couldn't leave until she knew that he was all right. Even if....

Janette's private room. The door was ajar. Noise inside. Voices. Laughter. She reached out to push the door open....

And her knees grew weak, as her heart rose to her throat. Nick and Janette in bed together, naked beneath the covers, he on top of her with his mouth at her neck....

Suddenly, he looked up at her, as he sensed her presence. His amber eyes opened wide, his lips parted as Janette's blood dripped from his fangs. "Nat," he whispered, as his eyes turned blue, filling with shame.

Janette simply smiled at her, her teeth still extended, Nick's blood fresh on her lips.

Natalie turned and ran.

"Let her go, Nicolas," Janette said softly, trying to pull him back onto the bed.

But Nick ignored her as he threw on his clothes, following Natalie out into the club.

He caught her by the door as she was about to leave. "Natalie! Wait!" he cried, grabbing her arm.

She swung around to face him, her eyes filled with rage. "Don't touch me!" she said, pulling away from him.

"Nat, please, let me explain!"

"Explain what? Why you've gone back to sharing blood when you vowed to stay away from it? Or why you were making love to Janette after telling me that you loved me?"

Nick stared at her dumbfounded.

"Yes, Nick, I know. I know, and I remember everything. But even if I hadn't, *you* did. Or did you think that by washing my memory you could pretend it never happened?"

"Natalie, believe me. I didn't mean for this to happen. Please, we need to talk--"

"I'm through talking to you--I'm through trying to help you--"

He grasped her hands, desperation on his face and in his voice, as he begged, "Natalie, please--"

Again, she pulled away, the fire in her eyes refusing to let the tears surface. No tears. Not just now. Not in front of him. Her voice was deliberately steady as she said, "You've made your choices, Nick. And it's about time I made some of my own. And right now, I choose not to have anything to do with you."

He just looked at her, speechless, as if she had kicked him in the stomach.

Natalie turned and ran into the rising sun, knowing he could not follow. For if he did, she might not have the strength to pull away again. And she had to. For herself. For her sanity.

It was the first time she'd put herself before him in a long time.

Nick sat alone at a table, contemplating the cow's blood before him. Filled nearly to the rim, it was the glass that Miklos had poured him when he'd collapsed into his seat after Natalie's angry departure. The Club's patrons, both human and vampire, had long since stolen away to sleep off the night's revels. And Nick was utterly alone, more so than he'd been in centuries.

Natalie was gone. And never had he felt his limitations more so than today. He'd wanted to follow her, to talk to her, to beg for her forgiveness, to explain to her...

Yet what would he explain? What could he possibly say to justify this utter betrayal? He himself couldn't fathom at this moment what had possessed him to find comfort in Janette's arms, in Janette's blood...

Janette. He couldn't face her. He'd sought to sever the bond between them, and he had instead fortified it. The blood that had passed between them had brought back a surge of memories, of emotions, of passions he'd thought long dead. And this new closeness with her, this connection that allowed him to feel her very presence as she rested in her chambers, held nothing of the excitement that it had in the past.

On the contrary: it unnerved him. It reminded him of his fall, threatening at any moment to lure him back into the world he'd sought so desperately to escape.

He hadn't wanted this. And he didn't want it now. But it nagged at him, called him, just as the blood that had beckoned him patiently, that continued to beckon him as he fought to resist it....

He pushed the glass away quickly, standing nervously from the table. How long had it been? How long until he could escape, find his way back to the safety of his loft, the dark shades that guarded him from the world, the protein drinks, those gloriously disgusting protein drinks that Natalie had made him with such care...,

Natalie. He pulled out his cellular phone. He had to try again, although he'd left a dozen messages on her machine in the last two hours. It rang and he held his breath.

The recording. He let out a sigh as he waited for the beep. "Nat, it's me. Please. Please pick up." He could hear the weariness in his own voice, the quiet desperation. "Natalie, just let me know you're okay." A beat. Then, in words choked with emotion, he whispered, "Natalie...I love you."

There was no response, and he hung up. There was nothing more to say.

Suddenly he tensed, feeling her before she even came up behind him. "Nicolas," she said tenderly in his ear, as she wrapped her arms around him from the back, "give it up. You're making a fool of yourself over this woman."

He pulled away from her uncomfortably, finding it was easier to look into her eyes than be so close to her. The thirst for her blood still lingered....Where was his control?

"Nicolas, I know you cared about her...but isn't it better this way? Better for her? This is a new beginning for us--"

He shook his head slowly, wishing that she would allow herself to see what was so painfully obvious. "No, Janette. I came here to end it. To resolve what had happened between us. To show you that I finally understood why you left--that it was time for both of us to move on...."

"But that's not what happened, is it?" she reminded him playfully, raising her hand to his cheek.

"It's what should have happened."

She shook her head. "I told you long ago that one day we would see each other and fall in love again--"

"Janette," he said gently, putting his hand over hers. His face was creased with his own pain. He didn't want to hurt her, but knew that he would. And he hated himself for his own lack of self-control that had brought them to this.

"Nicolas, you can't fight any more what you are. I felt your desire for me...for my blood..."

"Then you also felt me guilt...my regret. Janette, I will never completely lose my love for you, nor the passion between us. It runs too deep. But it's not what I want anymore. You felt it in my blood." He paused, not wanting to say it, but knowing he must. "You felt my love for her. You had to."

She withdrew her hand from him, as her expression suddenly hardened, and he knew that his blood had indeed told her that which she was unwilling to admit. Only the centuries that they had been together allowed him to see the almost imperceptible pain in her eyes, a pain she was too proud to let show. "Nick, she is mortal," she said evenly. "She will die. You can't share an eternity with her."

Her words stung him, though the reality had hung over him like an ominous cloud since he'd first realized that he was in love with Natalie. He didn't want to think about losing her. "A lifetime is all I want," he replied steadily.

"A mortal lifetime is a short thing, Nicolas," she reminded him coldly. She stepped away from him as she added bitterly, "But I suppose you'll say that a lifetime with her would be worth an eternity, eh?"

He didn't respond, though her sarcastic words had rung true.

"You're a romantic fool," she spat at him. "And I am perhaps a bigger fool for believing that we could ever recapture what we once had--when you were happy with what you are, when you reveled in it. Does your little mortal friend know about that side of you?"

He wanted to say that she did. And he knew that instinctively Natalie probably presumed much of the evil he was too ashamed to relate to her.

"And you'll never be able to share that with her," Janette told him, as if reading his thoughts. "Could she even bear to look at you if she knew all the evil you've been capable of over the last eight hundred years? Could she ever understand and accept you as I do?"

Nick didn't want her to see how much her words had shaken him. But she knew him too well, and in her own hurt she'd known exactly where to strike back. He hadn't confided all in Natalie. He'd been afraid to shock her, to horrify her...to push her away. And that fear of betraying his worst self to her was precisely what had driven him to Janette so many times in the recent past.

"Does she know about the Brabant foundation and how you acquired that money? Does she know about how you murdered Sylvaine, the woman you claimed to love?" she posed cruelly.

He didn't reply. But she read his silent rage.

"I didn't think so." She turned as if to go, but then looked back at him. "Do you think she'll ever forgive you for betraying her?"

"I don't know, Janette," he replied with venom equal to her own. "But she is the most remarkable woman I have ever known, and if I'm lucky, she will."

Janette's eyes flared with her anger. "You'll never change, will you Nicolas?" she said with contempt.

And she was gone.

He stood for a long moment staring at the spot she had occupied; then, heaving a deep sigh, he settled back into the chair to wait. Once more, the blood called him. He reached for it, then clenched his hand into a fist as he pulled it away.

No. His weakness had brought this upon them all. He wouldn't fall prey to it again.

"Natalie...I love you..."

She could hear the anguish in his voice, and she wanted more than anything to pick up the phone. She'd lain on the bed for hours it seemed, too shaken to move. Everything she'd believed about him, everything she'd thought he felt for her, was a lie. And the trauma of what she had seen had finally begun to set in, replacing the initial rage. Yet still, the tears would not come. It was much too much like a nightmare from which she'd awaken. Could that really have been Nick, delighting in Janette's blood, enveloped in her intimate embrace? Not the Nick she knew. Or thought she'd known. Not the man who'd professed his love for her. Dreaming dreams with her of a future they might someday share...

Perhaps it was that night in her apartment that had been the dream. The illusion. She'd relived those precious moments so many times in her mind, finding strength in the memories, the will to go on no matter how difficult things had seemed. Now, the image of Nick with Janette swam before her each time she closed her eyes, until she finally gave up on trying to sleep, staring ahead instead, at nothing at all, wishing she could see him before her again as he'd been on Valentine's Day...

And each time the phone rang, her heart quickened to hear his voice. He sounded so desperate, so sincere....

But she couldn't bring herself to move. And she prayed that if she lay there long enough, she'd fall victim to pure exhaustion, and she could escape in sleep....

And still, the tears wouldn't come. It was all just too unreal.

But then again, so had been her life since the day she'd met him.

He looked at his watch, knowing that the last few minutes would be interminable. He'd spent the day here, dozing at times with his head on the table, though in his dreams he just relived the horror of what had happened. Janette had left him alone, and for that he was grateful. Alone to think, to plan, to rehearse in his mind what he would say to Natalie.

He'd come up with nothing.

There was just too much ground to cover. Janette was the tip of the iceberg. *She knows what happened with LaCroix* he kept thinking to himself. *She knows I tried to make her forget.* And knowing that she recalled all that had transpired in Azure filled him with a fear that he would lose her forever. The cruel lies he had spoken, disclaiming his love for her, must have hurt her so....it was something he had wanted to spare her. Why hadn't she let on that she remembered? What must she think now after seeing him with Janette? His heart ached to think of the pain he'd brought her. To love her so much and to have caused her so much anguish....

His body tensed as his inner clock told him the sun was slipping below the horizon. It didn't matter whether he knew what to say to her or not. He had to see her, touch her....

With vampiric speed he left the Raven, flying off into the a blood-red sky....

The room grew dark with the setting sun. Natalie lay unmoving, knowing that it would only be a matter of moments....

The doorbell. She picked herself up off the bed as if automatically, knowing that she could not avoid this. She glanced in the mirror, stopping a moment to put on fresh lipstick and eye liner. She couldn't let him see how awful she was feeling. Let the makeup disguise it....

She took a deep breath before answering the door. She knew what seeing him would do to her, what it always did to her. He'd smile that smile of his that made her heart quicken... or look at her with those ageless eyes that reached into her soul. She couldn't weaken. She couldn't forgive him. Not this. She had to hold on to the anger, let it envelop her, protect her from being hurt again.

But as she opened the door, her carefully prepared shield threatened to give way. He looked awful, as if he hadn't slept. And his eyes were filled with such sorrow.... She could almost believe that he cared....

He sighed with relief as he saw her. "Thank God you're okay. I was so worried." He didn't seem to need an explanation for her not having answered the phone. Knowing she was all right was enough. "Nat, can I come in? Please?"

She studied him a moment. He wouldn't force her, she knew. But he would persist until everything was said.

Perhaps there were things *she* needed to say, too. She nodded silently, stepping aside for him.

"Natalie, we...we need to talk." He reached out to put his hands on her arms, but she backed away. She couldn't let him touch her. It would melt her resolve.

He let his hands fall to his sides, obviously distressed, but wanting to play by her rules, as if afraid that at any moment she might ask him to leave.

"I don't know what there is to talk about," she told him flatly, trying to keep the emotion from her voice.

She sat on the couch, and he took her lead, sitting to face her.

"Natalie, I know that what I did was inexcusable--a terrible mistake--"

"Oh, is that what you call it? A *mistake*?" she responded, failing to suppress the bitterness.

"Yes," he told her, looking into her eyes, undaunted. "Betraying you was probably one of the worst mistakes I've made in eight hundred years."

"You flatter me," she said dryly.

"I'm telling you the truth, Nat."

She averted his eyes as she replied, "Well, you'll forgive me if I'm not really sure what the truth is from you, Nick. Maybe what you told LaCroix that night is the truth--that you've just been humoring me, because I know your secret, because I've been trying to help you..."

At her words, he grasped her hands instinctively; she didn't know why she failed to pull away this time, but rather looked back into his eyes, his desperation almost frightening her, as he said, "You don't really believe that, do you, Nat?"

"I don't know what to believe," she said dully.

"Nat, if you remember it all, then you know I was desperate to save your life. I thought he would kill you...or worse...So I lied to him, Nat. I said terrible things, and tried to convince him by pretending I would take you..." He paused, looking down at her hands in his. "I wanted to spare you from the pain of remembering it all...and from knowing the things I had to say...*to do*...to convince him." He looked her in the eyes with shame. "I was so rough with you...so cruel...I was afraid for you to remember that. I thought it would push you away."

She shook her head slowly. "Until tonight, I knew--or thought I knew--that you were lying to him. But now--" She closed her eyes. "Nick, I don't know what to believe anymore--"

"Natalie, I love you. Believe that."

"I did," she said simply. She could feel the tears rising up into her throat, and she swallowed them back as she said, "But not anymore, Nick. Janette's the one you...love, or need...I don't know. But it seemed pretty clear--"

"Nat, listen to me. A long time ago, I did love her. And she hurt me. And I never really forgave her for that, never accepted what had happened. But with everything going on between Schanke and Myra...finally, I understood it all. All the resentment I'd kept inside me, all the hurt--I realized it was gone. I had moved on with my life. And I just went to the Raven to give her back a painting that DaVinci had done of her, one that I'd kept all these years out of anger, out of spite. I wanted to close the book on my relationship with her once and for all--"

"So that's how you ended it? By sharing her blood... by..." she paused, her voice choked with emotion as she finished, "...by making love to her?"

"I can't explain how it came to that," he told her. "I'm not even sure myself. All I know is that a lot of things have happened lately... things that made me lose hope...in becoming human, in being able to share a life with you--"

"Well, if you'd given up on us, it would have been nice to tell me about it," she told him.

"I never gave up, Nat," he said tenderly, squeezing her hand, "and I never will. I just got frustrated. Do you realize how close I came to having everything I ever wanted--only to have it all slip through my fingers? First the mortality drug--and then, just as I began to have some hope that you and I could finally find a way to share a life together--LaCroix destroyed it all. " He paused, the horror of it still living with him as he said, "I nearly lost you, Nat. I couldn't handle that. I couldn't stand knowing that you'd nearly died because of me. And I was terrified of getting too close to you, that he might realize that I'd lied to him, and come after you again..."

"So you turned to Janette?" The irony of it enraged her. "Why? Because it was easier? Because you could be with her without worrying about killing her, or LaCroix taking his revenge?"

"It's not that simple, Nat--"

"Sure it is. It was pure selfishness, Nick. You wanted the easy way out. Why struggle to eat food, when you can drink blood? And why suffer through the frustration of a relationship with me, when Janette can fill all your needs that I can't?"

"Natalie...Don't do this..." he implored.

But she couldn't stop. She'd begun, and now she had to let him know all that she had suffered because of him. "Did you ever stop to think about me, Nick? Did you ever think that maybe I was frustrated? And scared? We could have shared that, Nick. We could have gotten through it together. How do you think it's been for me? Wanting you, wanting to be with you, being patient, and faithful, and believing in you, believing that you wanted to become mortal, that you wanted a life with me...that you loved me...and getting virtually nothing in return from you, as if that night in this apartment had never happened!"

"Natalie," he said softly, his voice hoarse with emotion. "The night we admitted how we felt...the night we kissed, and held each other...was the first real happiness I've had in centuries..."

Her face was hot with rage. Yet the memories that he evoked with his words threatened to make her fall apart. "Don't..." she told him. "Don't even try. If that were so, then why go back to her, Nick? All this time I thought there was something growing between us..."..."

"Nat, I swear to you. This was the first time. The first time in four hundred years."

"It doesn't matter!" she cried, too distraught to particularly care right know if he saw. "Even before this, don't you think I know how often you've gone to her, sharing things with her that you wouldn't with me?"

"Janette knows the things I've done. It's easier sometimes to talk to her--" He stopped mid-sentence, as if realizing he was only exacerbating her feelings of insecurity as far as his relationship with Janette was concerned.

She merely replied, "There was a time when I thought you trusted *me*...when you confided in me..."

"I do, Nat. I do. But don't you see that there are some things I'm afraid to tell you?"

"Oh, and did you think I was so naive, Nick? That I thought you were a reluctant, repentant vampire since Day One? I know what you were. I know the things you've done, even if you haven't told me everything--"

"I didn't want to frighten you away. I thought that if you knew all the evil I'd been capable of, that it would push you away--"

"Nothing you could have told me about your past could have made me stop loving you. It was all in the past. But this--"

She felt the tears welling in her eyes, and wondered how she'd been able to suppress them for so long. She stood quickly, turning away, not wanting to face him... But as he came up behind her, pressing his body against hers, wrapping his arms around her, resting his chin against her shoulder, his cheek against hers, she feared she'd break down completely.

"Nat, I don't expect you to forgive me right away--to trust me again so easily. But in time, maybe you could--"

"I'm not eternal like you are, Nick," she whispered, closing her eyes, willing herself to resist what his closeness was doing to her. "My time is running out. And I've wasted too much of it already trusting you."

"What are you saying, Nat?" he asked softly in her ear, an edge of panic in his tone.

She turned to face him, breaking his physical and emotional hold on her.

"I'm saying that this whole relationship has been one-sided, " she said steadily. "That I need someone who will be faithful to me, and give me the emotional support I need. I need to feel loved, and trusted...I can't keep giving without getting anything in return..."

"Nat, I do love you--" he said passionately, taking her face in his hands.

And she wanted so desperately to trust him...to believe him...to fall into his arms, to drown in his kiss. But she couldn't. "I don't believe you," she said with as much conviction as she could muster.

"Natalie, no..." His face was painstricken.

"Please, Nick," she begged, her voice choked with her tears. "Don't make this any harder than it is. I just can't let you do this to me anymore. I need to go on with my life."

For a long moment he gazed into her eyes, as if weighing his own desires against hers. And slowly, he nodded, in defeat, in resignation, as if he knew that he had brought this on himself, and owed it to her to let her go on. "I'm sorry, Nat," he said tenderly, the words barely audible. "I'm so sorry." And as he kissed her gently, she could feel his lips trembling against hers. He pulled slowly away, and she knew now that the tears had begun to streak her face. He wiped them away with his thumbs, caressing her hair as he looked once more into her eyes. And she knew that as he separated from her, she was shaking.

"I'll never stop loving you," he said, barely able to speak. "But I...I don't want...to hurt you anymore." He released her, backing away slowly, almost as if wishing that she would call him back, forgive him, grant him one more chance...

But she couldn't.

The door shut behind him. And control no longer mattered. The flood of tears that had built up from the moment she'd seen him with Janette now flowed unbidden.

And Natalie searched her soul for the relief that she should have felt at having made a right decision. But if there was any relief, it was drowned in her grief, as the futility of her own words assaulted her.

After knowing him, loving him...could she ever really go on with her life? And could she ever love anyone as passionately as she loved him?

He heard her softly weeping as he stood outside her door. He wanted to go back, to take her into his arms, to comfort her....

...but he'd brought her nothing but pain. And he could bear to do it no more. He loved her too much. Gathering his strength, he pulled himself away, and flew off into the night.

Her grief had finaly lulled her into the sanctuary of sleep. It was only the thump of Sydney pouncing onto the bed that awoke her finally from her dreamless state. Reality assaulted her once more, with the dull ache that rose from the pit of her stomach. She reached for her watch, squinting in the darkness to see the time.

A shadow crossed the room. Startled, she turned to the door, her heart pounding as the tall figure began to take form before her. And as he approached the bed, she drew in a breath.

"Don't be afraid, Doctor Lambert."

And even in the darkness, she could see the smile on LaCroix's pallid face....

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," he told her politely, though by the smile that played upon his lips, she knew that that had been precisely his intent. But despite what she knew of him, and the manner in which his charm at Azure had belied a more malevolent agenda, fear seemed to escape her right now. The last twenty-four hours had drained her completely. She was too weary to be afraid. And when finally her initial shock at his entrance subsided, it was with anger that she reacted.

"You knew," she accused, sitting up in bed. "You told me he was in danger because you knew I'd go there and find him with her."

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly, sitting on the bed to face her. "Oh, you don't mind, do you?"

"Why no, make yourself at home," she mocked him.

He was looking at her strangely now. "You're not afraid of me, are you?" he asked with seeming interest.

"Should I be?" she asked tiredly. She was in no mood for these games.

LaCroix seemed to consider the question for a moment before answering. "No. I have no desire to bring harm to you."

"You've already done enough," she dared. Her own lack of fear surprised her.

He shook his head slowly, knowingly. "No, Natalie, I've done nothing to you. Nicholas is the one who hurt you tonight."

She shifted uncomfortably for the first time.

"Oh, I understand your pain. Nicholas is as a son to me--and yet he has betrayed me time and again. It's my fault, you see. I indulged him. I spoiled him. And over the past eight hundred years he's come to think that the entire world revolves around him, and his guilt, and his quest. He didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sure. But he can't help it. He has always put his own needs above everyone else's. It's unfortunate that he involved you in his life. He's not capable of giving you what you need. Physically, or emotionally."

She didn't want to hear this; it rang too true. But Natalie's anger was getting lost in her fascination with this other side of LaCroix. Somehow, despite what she knew of him, he seemed almost....sincere. She tried to dismiss the thought. "Look, this is really a moot point. There's nothing between me and Nick now. It's over. So if that satisfies your need for retribution--"

He raised an eyebrow. "You do remember everything that happened, then?"

"You found yourself a pretty potent drug there, I'll give you that; and mixed with the champagne, it did confuse me for awhile. But yes, everything's come back."

"And Nicholas didn't try to hypnotize you? To make you forget? That is his style, you know. He never quite learned that it's far easier to kill someone that dominate their mind."

She looked at him, almost more at ease to see the LaCroix she'd expected show through. But she merely replied, "You know he doesn't kill anymore."

"Yet he would have killed you," he supplied quickly.

"To save me from you," she said.

"Perhaps. But you see, in Nicholas' tortured mind he truly believed that you would prefer death to an existence such as ours."

"I would," she said. Yet she knew the conviction wasn't there, and she knew that he sensed it as well.

"Would you, Natalie? Would you prefer to die than to live forever...with Nicholas? Able to share with him all that you've desired...and more?"

He was studying her for a response. And she fought desperately not to react to the mere thought of it. Her face remained unchanged, as she said, "Another moot question."

LaCroix inclined his head slightly, almost as if nodding approval at the way she had won that round with him.

"Now, not to be rude, but do you think you could tell me why you're here?" The question had been asked quickly, to prevent him from taking the lead in the conversation again.

To her surprise, he stood. "To see how you were taking what had happened," he said.

"I'm taking it just fine," she assured him, though the bitter sarcasm tinged her words. "Now you answer a question for me. What was the purpose of sending me there? Why the elaborate plan? If you really wanted to bring an end to Nick's relationship with me, then why not just kill me?"

It was his turn to be surprised. "I bear no ill will towards you, Natalie. In fact, I find you to be rather interesting. Killing you would have been pointless."

"I thought you found mortals insignificant. If you can admit that any murder could be 'pointless', then you're admitting to a respect for human life."

"And you didn't think me capable of that?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Your reputation does precede you."

"But perhaps my reputation is an invention of Nicholas' mind. Everything you've heard of me has been colored by his perceptions. Perhaps if you got to know me, you would find that everything you've heard has been extremely one-sided."

"Maybe," she replied, smiling slightly at him. He was interesting to say the least....

"We'll have to see," he said cryptically.

He turned to leave.

"Wait!"

He looked back to her.

"You still haven't told me why you told me this... Why you wanted me to see them together... Was it all just to keep me and Nick apart?"

He paused a moment, before saying. "No. In part it was," he admitted.

"And what else?" she pressed.

He looked almost uncomfortable being cornered into an explanation of his motivations. Yet his reaction also meant, she realized, that he would probably tell her the truth. But when he finally spoke, it wasn't something she had expected.

"I thought you had a right to know," he said simply.

Moments later, the open window was the only indication that he'd ever been there.

Natalie took a deep breath, falling back against her pillows, relieved that he was gone. She ignored her first instinct to call Nick. Besides, if LaCroix had wanted to kill her, he could have. There was no point in worrying Nick...

She caught herself in the absurd thought as the dull ache returned to the pit of her stomach. It wouldn't be easy to remember that Nick was no longer a part of her life. But she'd have to try. It was the only way she would ever find peace.

And what of LaCroix? Just what did he want of her? She didn't know. But something in her gut told her that he was being honest when he said that he didn't mean her any harm. She closed her eyes, willing herself to forget about vampires, and other things that went bump in the night....

But she slept uneasily nevertheless.

The shift had been twelve hours long. Yet still she worked. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, and sleep beckoned. Yet she would not stop. She could not. Not as long as there was work to be done. And as morbid luck had it, her work at the morgue was never done.

Another victim rolled in. She sighed, readjusting the white duck-billed cap that kept her hair from her face. Grace was talking to her, something about going home.

"Huh? Did you say something?" she asked absently, avoiding her friend's questioning gaze as she reached for the zipper on the body bag.

"I said I'm going. Why don't you leave it until morning, Natalie? You've been here almost fourteen hours."

"No, it's okay," she reassured her, stopping to look up, forcing a slight smile. "I'd rather get it done now."

She watched Grace as she shook her head, and left.

For a moment, it frightened her to think that she was alone. The quiet was suddenly deafening. She'd never feared being alone before, yet today the background noise of the many people on duty at the Coroner's Office had soothed her into a momentary sense of security. What exactly had made her so uneasy? And why was she so pointedly avoiding going home? Was it a fear that LaCroix would return to her apartment?

No. It was a fear of being left alone with her thoughts. Alone to think about the last two days. About Nick. About what he had done to her.

About the time she had invested, no, wasted, trying to help him...loving him. About what she really wanted to do with her life now.... About Nick. He was omnipresent in her thoughts. And only work, only the constant need to concentrate on what she was doing, would keep her from thinking of him...from missing him.

She knew she couldn't work forever. But it was too soon to go home. She wouldn't close her eyes; she didn't want to allow that image to dance before her eyes again.

"Don't even think about it, Nat," she commanded herself, as she began to examine the body before her. A young man, probably twenty at most. The waste of life never ceased to horrify her. His youthful features had lost their brilliance in the awful pallor of his pale skin, and his eyes, still open, betrayed the horror of his last moments of life. She closed the eyes gently, wishing the medics had done it for her. She was too tired for this, too filled with her own grief and anger to see such pain. Maybe Grace had been right....

Suddenly, her heart stopped as she saw them. She adjusted the young man's head, tilting it slightly so she could see.

Natalie drew in a breath as she ran a gloved finger over the small puncture wounds on the young victim's neck.

And she knew she had to call Nick.

She hadn't wanted to see him. She dreaded dealing with him. But the atrocity that had been committed tonight begged her to put her personal life aside.

She picked up the phone, her voice pointedly emotionless as she said, "Nick, it's me. I think you'd better get over here right away. There's something you should see."

She'd seen the hope in his eyes as he'd entered her office, as if he'd taken her call as a sign that she might be ready to talk to him again. But as she greeted him only with the most professional nod, she could see the disappointment wash over his face. And it hurt her to see the despair that mirrored her own. She averted his eyes as she motioned to the body.

He bent closer, though clearly the blood bothered him more than usual. And as he saw the small but deadly slashes, he raised his eyebrows. "Drained of blood?" he asked needlessly.

"Yes." She took a deep breath, voicing the question she wished she could avoid, knowing the answer might upset her. "Nick, do you know anything about this?"

She'd tried to be delicate, but her meaning had been clear. And he looked at her sharply, his eyes opening wide with realization. "Nat, you can't possibly think--" He wouldn't finish, It was inconceivable to him that she would think him responsible for this.

She met his stare boldly. "Well, you have gone back to drinking blood," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I shared vampire blood, Nat. Once," he responded angrily. "That doesn't mean I've gone back to killing. I haven't taken a life in over a hundred years." He paused, as if too hurt to find the right words. His voice was raw with emotion as he asked, "After almost three years, don't you know me better than that?"

"I thought I did," she replied emotionlessly.

"I see." His face had transformed into a mask of silent rage. "Well, I'll leave you to your work now. I have a killer to track. When I find something, I'll let you know."

She cursed herself silently as she watched him leave. She *did* know him better. But her own hurt over his betrayal had eroded her trust in him completely, to the point where she had truly questioned if he might have returned to a vampire lifestyle, with all its ramifications. And as a result, she had come across as jealous, bitter....

And she was, wasn't she? But she didn't want to let him see her this way. And no matter what he had done to her, she wouldn't hurt him just for the sake of vindictiveness. "I'm sorry, Nick," she whispered quietly.

But even with his preternatural hearing, he was too far away by now to hear her.

The blood tasted good as it passed his lips, and he drank with a renewed thirst that frightened him. Yet he could not stop, would not, until he'd emptied the bottle. He contemplated the empty container for a brief moment before reaching for the next.

And why not? What did it really matter now? He'd made a mess of the life he'd struggled to create for himself. He'd drunk Janette's blood, falling off the precarious precipice of control that he'd tried so hard to maintain. And the one person who had believed in him now thought him nothing more than a killer. Natalie had helped him keep his balance for so long that he truly did not believe himself capable of doing it without her. She had pushed him, protected him, guided him, supported him...loved him. And he had repaid her with betrayal. Could he really blame her for losing trust in him? He knew in his heart he could not. But her accusation had wounded him. And he knew now that the damage he'd caused to their relationship was irreparable.

He didn't know how he could live with that. To see her every day, to work with her, loving her as he did and knowing that even her friendship had been lost to him, was more than he could bear to even think about.

So he would take refuge in the blood. It soothed him, invigorated him, as nothing else could. Perhaps once he'd had his fill he could sleep, sleep as he hadn't since the night Natalie had found him with Janette....

The sound of the elevator door sliding open drew him from his reverie. And for a moment he allowed himself to hope that it was she, that she had come to see him, to forgive him....

But another presence filled his senses as he once more became painfully aware of their connection, strengthened now, made more acute with each step he took towards his vampirism.

"Janette," he said, heaving his disappointment with his sigh. He turned to face her wearily.

The anger from before was gone from her face, replaced by her concern as she saw him. "Nicolas, are you all right?"

"And why wouldn't I be?" he asked with a bitter edge to his voice.

She ignored it, clearly with a more important agenda of her own.

"Nick, we have to talk. Something's happened. And it could endanger us all."

Nick turned away from Janette with disinterest as he reached for another bottle from the refrigerator.

"Did you hear what I said, Nicolas? We could all be in great danger--"

"If you're talking about the body, I know about it. I saw it in the morgue." He held out the bottle to her. "Would you like some?"
"No," she told him, taking the bottle from him. "And I think you look like you've had enough yourself. Nick, your eyes...."

He'd felt them burning with the familiar amber glow, and she only confirmed it. He grabbed the bottle back from her. "How much is enough, Janette? I need this to survive, don't I?"

"That's not what you used to believe," she reminded him patiently.

He ignored her, drinking down nearly half the bottle at once. And as he set it down, he could feel the fangs that had begun to protrude. Janette was shaking her head slightly at him, her eyes filled with a pity that infuriated him. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he growled in a voice lower than his own. "For me to accept what I am? Revel in it?"

"But it's not what *you* want."

"It's what I am," he replied, raising the bottle to his lips.

"But not what you want to be, Nicolas," she said regretfully. She held out her hand, and this time he relented, handing her the bottle. She set it down, and reached up to touch his face. He did not pull away.

"I can't have what I want, Janette," he told her softly. The blue had returned to his eyes and he looked at her now with utter defeat. "To be human...to be with Natalie...I've lost it all."

"I'm sorry," she told him tenderly.

He put his hand over hers. "It's my fault, Janette. I've made a mess of my life. And now..." He paused, as if ashamed to say it. "She thinks I did it. She actually asked me if I knew anything about the murder--"

"Nicolas, can you blame her? She loves you. She's very hurt. And she doesn't know what to think, whom to trust." She hesitated, as if not sure how to tell him what she had to. "Nick, I know everything now. LaCroix told me what he did to you--to Natalie--on Valentine's Day."

She waited for his reaction. But he was growing numb now. He'd kept it from Janette intentionally, afraid that if he admitted to her his true feelings for Natalie, it would get back to LaCroix. But it was all moot now, wasn't it?

"Nick, if I had known--"

"Would it have a made a difference to you, Janette?" he asked dubiously. How many times in his life had Janette purposely come between him and the women in whom he'd taken an interest?

"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "As much as I hate to admit it, I *like* Natalie. She's good for you. And I truly believe she can make you happy. I won't lie to you, Nicolas. I still love you, and I wanted things to be like they once were for us. But you don't want that life anymore. I accept that now. This time it's *you* who has to move on."

"I've tried. And failed," he reminded her with disgust. "Over and over--"

"The question is, Nick, why didn't it seem to matter to you?" she pressed him. "You have many flaws, mon amour, but infidelity was never one of them. If you really love her--and I know you do--then why did you make love to me?"
Her question had held not even the slightest bit of venom he might have expected; rather she was reaching out to him with the friendship and concern that had developed over the centuries. She truly wanted to know what had motivated him, and he knew she deserved his honesty.

He sighed deeply, taking her hand and leading her to sit beside him on the couch. And when he met her sympathetic gaze, he knew that she was reading the pain in his eyes. "I was afraid, Janette. LaCroix wanted me to bring her across to prove that I didn't love her. If not..." He paused, the memory still evoking fear in him, "I don't know what he would have done to her."

"He would have tortured her--killed her," she said plainly, "He wanted revenge for Fleur. And what would you have done, Nick? Would you really have made her one of us?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I've asked myself that a thousand times. I would never condemn her to this existence--and yet, if losing her were the only other choice..."

"So you stalled. And hoped he would believe your lie. But Nicolas, how could you possibly think you could deceive him? He knows our thoughts--"

"I wanted to believe that I'd convinced him. I wanted to think that she'd be safe. And yet, I was terrified that he'd come back for her. So I stayed away. Even though I knew I was hurting her. And I tried to erase her memory so that she wouldn't know what had happened. So she wouldn't realize how close we'd come to happiness. I wanted to spare her that pain."

"But she remembered, didn't she?"

He nodded.

"Nick, she must have been devastated to see us together."

"I didn't mean for it to happen, Janette. I truly did come to resolve things between us. But everything in my life lately has been nothing but disappointment. I needed--"

"You needed comfort. You needed release from your frustration. Things have been building up in you, Nick. I sensed it myself. Maybe I took advantage of that too. Don't you think Natalie can forgive you for your weakness? In time?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Perhaps I don't deserve her forgiveness. Or her love."

Janette took him into her arms, stroking his hair as he rested his head against her shoulder. He hadn't expected this of her, but he was so grateful that she'd looked beyond her anger and recognized that their needs and wants no longer coincided.... Perhaps this *was* a new beginning for them--as the eternal friends he'd wanted them to be. As he separated from her, he smiled weakly and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you," he said softly.

"It will work out, Nicolas. If you want it to."

His face grew serious. "And what of LaCroix? What I don't understand is why he let me off the hook, if he didn't believe me."

Janette shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows? Maybe he felt a bit of compassion at the last moment." She paused, as he looked at her doubtfully. "Maybe he simply thought she'd be of more value to him alive than dead," she added, as if she knew that that were a more realistic possibility.

"Well, at least now he'll have no reason to go near her," he commented sourly. But Janette's sudden silence was telling. "What is it?" he pressed.

"I didn't want to tell you this," she said, looking down. "But LaCroix was the one who told Natalie to go to the Raven. He was watching us." Her voice betrayed her humiliation. "He saw us...and he called her...told her you were in danger. That's why she came to the club."

His eyes flared with rage as he stood, unable to contain his fury. "That perverted bastard! I'll kill him this time, Janette! I'll kill him for interfering in our lives like this!"

"Nick, please. Don't confront him!" Her face was filled with sudden fear as she rose to put a restraining hand on his arm. "It won't change what's happened! If you truly want to defeat him, then don't give in to what he wants. He wants you to come back to us. He thinks he's destroyed your only tie to the mortal world. Don't let him do it! Make amends with Natalie, and go away--"

"To where, Janette? Have I ever really been able to escape from his grasp?! And if by some miracle, Natalie were to forgive me--is it any safer for us to be together now than it was before? Can I ever really hope to protect her from him?"

Janette's face was filled with her sorrow for him. She could not respond. She had no solution to offer. "I don't have an answer for you," she said finally.

"Because there is none." He turned away from her, reaching again for the bottle. "Maybe Erica had the best answer. Maybe death is the only way to escape."

"You always said you'd rather join the living," she reminded him gently, placing her fingers on the bottle.

"And I haven't been able to do that, have I?" He drank, closing his eyes as the heat began to emanate from them once more. When he turned to her, amber had washed away the gentle blue.

"Nicolas, it will all work out," she insisted.

"How, Janette? When the woman I love thinks I'm a killer..."

Janette took a deep breath. "Nick, that's what I originally came here to tell you. There's been more than one murder."

He looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

"There were at least four others. One near the Raven, one in the park, and two in the University. Two of the new ones discovered them," she explained. "They came to me, and I had the bodies...disposed of."

"The missing persons..." he mumbled as the pieces of a puzzle began to fall into place; as the cop in him began to rise to the occasion. "Janette...one of them was a five year old child!"

"I know," she said, compassion in her voice. "It's a renegade, Nick. Someone from out of town, who's made no contact with the community here..."

"But has put everyone at risk," he finished for her. He set the bottle down. He didn't need it right now. This case, this new danger, would occupy his mind. And he would bury himself in it, as if nothing else mattered. Perhaps it would be the only thing to bring him through his despair. "I'll do what I can," he promised, squeezing her hand. "But you've got to put the word out to everyone else. If anyone hears anything--"

"I'll let you know," she said, visibly relieved that he would give it his attention.

He looked at her for a long moment, then gathered her into his arms for a warm embrace. "Thank you, Janette," he said softly, kissing her on the cheek. "For everything."

Natalie let down her hair, shaking it loose as she yawned with exhaustion. Yes, she had certainly brought herself to the brink. She doubted if anything would keep her from falling into a coma the moment she got home and her head hit the pillow. It was better this way. Tomorrow was her day off. If she were lucky, maybe she'd sleep through most of it....

She looked back at her desk to make sure she'd taken everything she needed at home. Car keys, date book, the copy of Cosmo she'd picked up at lunch time....

Suddenly a chill ran down her spine, as she was assaulted by the sensation of another presence. She was being watched. She turned around instinctively and gasped, nearly jumping out of her skin as she saw him there.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

She composed herself quickly, not wanting LaCroix to perceive any weakness in her. "Yeah, I think we've covered this ground before. You do like surprise entrances, don't you?"

"The element of surprise is always an advantage," he replied matter-of-factly.

"But a morgue is probably not the best place to sneak up on someone. It could get a little unnerving in a building full of dead bodies." She caught herself in the irony of what she was saying, and gave him a half-smile. "No offense intended, of course."

"None taken," he replied, amusement in his eyes. He stepped closer to her, his expression growing serious. "It's very late for you to be alone."

"Well, I had a lot of work to do," she replied. "One of your friends got a little careless tonight."

His face remained unchanged. "This is precisely what I came to warn you about. There's a renegade in town who seems to have left a trail of bodies in his wake--"

"Wait, did you say bodies? Plural? I've only got one here--"

"There were four more," he explained. "They were found and disposed of properly before they were discovered by mortals."

"Do you have any idea who's doing it?"

He shook his head. "Someone who's either too young to know any better, or too ancient to care. In either case, he must be stopped. It's against our code to kill in such a way as to draw attention to our kind."

"Does this mean the Enforcers will come?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You do know a great deal about us, don't you?"

"Probably more than I care to at the moment," she replied mirthlessly.

"I thought you found us fascinating creatures?" There was no mockery in his voice.

She sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I do. I've just had a very rough shift--not to mention the last couple of days--and I really need to go home and get some sleep." She began to gather her things.

"Natalie."

She looked up at him, surprised for some reason by the intimacy with which he seemed to call her by name.

"Would you at least permit me to accompany you back to your home? One of the victims was found in the park near your apartment building. It's not very safe for you to be alone."

She searched his eyes as if looking for some hidden purpose, some motivation for his sudden concern. But she could find none. What would be so wrong with letting him safeguard her? After all, she had no intention of ending up as a midnight snack for some renegade vampire. And if LaCroix himself meant to harm her, couldn't he have killed her before she'd even realized he was there?

"Okay," she agreed. "Thank you."

And LaCroix seemed quite pleased.

The conversation in the car had been of such mundane things--the theater, music, the latest movies. LaCroix was not at all what she had expected; in fact, she found it hard to believe that this was the same being who once had threatened her life. She struggled to maintain her guard; after all, he was a killer. And yet, despite all she knew of him, all Nick had told her, she was not afraid. And she hadn't the faintest idea why.

Was it his gentle manner? Was it the sincerity in his crystal blue eyes, or the calming effect of his throaty voice? Or was it the mere fact that he had come to warn her of a possible danger? He meant her no harm. She could feel it. But just what did he want of her?

As he walked her to the door of her apartment, Natalie thought it almost ludicrous that she felt the same anxiety of a first date. Would she be able to leave him at the door? Did she want to? She'd actually *enjoyed* his company. And for a short time, she'd been able to forget her pain. Yet the nagging doubt screamed at her. How could she trust him? And unlike poor judgment with a normal male companion, a mistake here could mean her life. She turned the key in the lock, and looked at him as the door opened.

His cool hand on hers sent a chill through her body. "I mean you no harm, Natalie. I told you that already." He paused, looking into her eyes, reading her reaction. Although, she would have bet that he'd been reading her thoughts all along. "I want to apologize for what happened at Azure. It was between me and Nicholas. It's unfortunate that you were caught in the middle. But that's over now. And you have nothing to fear from me."

"I know," she mouthed slowly. And she meant it.

"You...will be careful?" He withdrew his hand from hers as if he were aware that it had been there for too long. "Perhaps it would be safer to change your hours...until this problem has been resolved."

"Well, to be quite honest, until this is over, I may not have much of a choice. If anyone else sees those bodies..." Her voice trailed off. She wasn't very comfortable drawing attention to the fact that she was using her position to cover up these vampire murders.

He looked at her with understanding. "Then I suppose I will find myself checking on you from time to time."

She gave him a slight smile. "As long as you knock first."

He smiled back. "Then I take it I have your permission to call on you again?"

She nodded. "Good night, LaCroix."

"Good night."

She watched him walk away before closing the door behind him.

Natalie leaned her body against the door and heaved a deep sigh. "What the hell am I doing?" she said softly to herself.

She was convinced that her judgment was gone. That was it. In her despair over Nick, she'd totally lost her mind. Why else would she spend time with an killer?

Yet, Nick had been a killer.

*No. That's ridiculous. How can I compare them?* she admonished herself. *LaCroix is evil. Nick is not.*

But was he truly evil? Or was her image of him merely the product of Nick's perceptions? She didn't know. But something inside her wanted to find out. Her curiosity. Her fascination with all of their kind. The mere wonder of a being who had lived for two thousand years....

Or maybe, she just needed some diversion; something to keep her from thinking of Nick....

Nick. Her heart ached for him. She resisted the urge to pick up the phone. To tell him that she was sorry for accusing him of the murders when she now knew the truth....

And an ironic thought struck her.

Her trust in Nick had been so eroded that she had thought him capable of murder. But it had never even occurred to her to point a finger at LaCroix.

His fingers tapped impatiently on the sound board as he waited for the song to end. A song about love, and fear of betrayal. He thought of Natalie, and wondered if she was listening. No, she was probably asleep. It was better. The words would hurt her; remind her of Nicholas' betrayal.

What a fool Nicholas was! To have destroyed the very thing he had sought so desperately to attain. Had that night with Janette been worth it? Worth losing a love as passionate as Natalie's....?

"Betrayal, Gentle Listeners. That is the theme for tonight. Why do we betray those we love? Is it our weakness? Our fear of giving of ourselves completely?

"Fear motivates all. Fear of rejection...of pain...of love. Fear of death?" He laughed. "Perhaps for some. Yet some are afraid of nothing...or they struggle not to belie their fear to those whom they fear most." He became pensive for a moment. He knew he was rambling. But, then again, he could do whatever he wanted, say whatever he wanted, couldn't he?

"Perhaps fear should be our theme for tonight. What do *you* fear, Gentle Listeners? What does the Nightcrawler fear?"

Yet he knew the answer.

Love.

"A friend once asked me what I thought were the qualities of a strong ruler--a prince. I told him, it was better to be feared than loved." Another light laugh. "He quoted me verbatim and never gave me the credit for his most well-known advice."

"What do you think, my friends? Is it better to be feared or loved?" He stared ahead into nothingness as he took a sip of the red liquid in his wine glass. But he was seeing her. "I used to think it was better to be feared. But I have been feared all my life. Was it really better? Was my life any better for instilling fear in those around me? Did the end justify the means?"

Another taste of the blood. And he imagined it was hers. How sweet it would be....

"But you...you don't fear me, do you? You know...you have nothing to fear. And your lack of fear...frightens me."

He reached for the tape. It was time for another song.

In bed, she lay awake, listening to the radio at her bedside, to the soothing tones of his voice. And she whispered, "No...I don't fear you."

And that frightened her too.

She slept most of the day. It was easier that way. For the moment she awoke, the dull ache was back, the knot that reached from her stomach up into her chest. The hot shower didn't help. Cuddling on the couch with Sydney wasn't enough. All she could think of were the countless times that she'd snuggled beside Nick, watching movies all night until the rising sun had drained him of energy. She thought of the time that dawn had crept too close; undaunted, almost pleased, he'd drawn her shades, and spent the day dozing beside her. It was before he'd told her he loved her; before they'd become more than friends. Yet she had reveled in the sensation of his arms around her as he'd slept soundly, comfortably, secure that she would watch over him in his most vulnerable state.

She could feel her tears rising, and she pushed them back. She couldn't go on like this.

She dressed and set out for work. At least there, she would have no time to think. To remember.

To long for him.

It was dusk when she reached the Coroner's Office, and Grace looked up at her in surprise. "I didn't expect you until tomorrow."

"I got bored at home," she said simply, pulling on her lab coat.

"You must be psychic. This one just came in," she said, motioning to a body on the table. "George was going to do it, but--"

"I'll take care of it," she supplied quickly, having a bad feeling. The bag was much too small.

"It's a kid, Natalie. Eighteen years old. they found him at the University."

Natalie shook her head. "They keep getting younger," she mumbled as she unzipped the bag. And by the pale face that greeted her, she knew.

She purposely avoided the neck, careful not even to glance as Grace watched. Instead, she scraped under the fingernails, preparing a sample. "DNA test," she said, handing it to Grace.

Her friend nodded, glad to leave the room.

Gently, Natalie turned the head, though she had no doubt as to what she would find. She shook her head, rezipping the bag. An autopsy was pointless. She knew what had killed him.

The only question now would be how to hide it.

She'd known he would come. Eventually. And her heart quickened at the sight of him. His pale, handsome features, warm blue eyes, the blond hair flecked with the sunlight that had not touched it in centuries. She wanted to reach out to him, touch his cool skin, feel its heat as he laid his hand upon hers. But she could not touch him, nor react. She willed herself to be calm, for her heart to slow its pace lest he hear her excitement. But she knew her face was flushing slightly as he came towards her.

"Natalie--I need to talk to you."

His tone was serious, business-like. She could see that he was uncertain, hesitant, almost averting her eyes. She'd hurt him with her accusations. She knew it. And despite the fact that he'd torn her apart with his actions, she didn't have it in her to be vindictive.

"Nick," she began gently.

"Nat, that murder wasn't an isolated incident. There've been others. They were...covered up."

"I know," she said slowly. "I had another one here, too."

He looked up at her. "I'm surprised you didn't suspect *me*," he said stiffly.

She took a deep breath, ignoring his bitterness.

"There's a renegade...someone from out of town," he explained, not seeming to register the lack of surprise on her face. "We've put the word out--and I've been trying to track him down. I was hoping maybe you had something for me. Some clue." He shifted uncomfortably. "I also wanted to warn you. It's not safe for you to be outside alone at night."

"Nick," she began again, determined to get it out before she lost her nerve. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have accused you. I knew you couldn't have done it. It was just my anger speaking. I'm sorry."

His face softened as visible relief engulfed him. He shook his head slightly as he reached tentatively to place his hand on hers. "It's okay. I can't really blame you."

She was silent. There was nothing to say. For a moment their eyes locked, and she realized how pale he seemed, how fatigued. She wanted to ask if he was eating, but bit her tongue. She didn't really want to know what he'd been doing.

She looked down at his hand on hers, before pulling it away. "The only significant thing I've got is the fact that they were both found at the University," she said, reaching for her clipboard, forcing the professional facade to take over once more. "The first was twenty; James Singer. A junior, originally from Montreal. The second looks to be eighteen years old. No positive ID yet. I'd say he was probably a freshman." She shook her head. "Whoever this is gets some kind of perverted kick out of killing them young."

"The others were even younger," he told her, visibly disturbed. "I checked the Missing Persons from the past few days. Three high school kids, and a five year old girl."

She looked up at him, horrified. "Nick, who could it be? Who would do this...to children?"

He sighed deeply. "I don't know. Obviously someone who doesn't care if they get caught."

"Or wants to get caught?" she proposed.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll start at the University. I'll have Schanke check new admissions records tomorrow, but for tonight I'll just go keep watch."

"Be careful," she found herself saying as he poised to leave.

He hesitated. "Nat, it's not safe for you to be out alone tonight. Would you at least wait here until I get back? Let me make sure you get home all right?"

"Nick, it's really not necessary--"

"Nat, this isn't about us." He took her hand again, as the coolness sent a wave of heat through her. "I don't want anything to happen to you. Please, just let me do this."

She didn't want him to. She didn't want to even acknowledge that he could be concerned. To do so would allow the possibility that he still cared...that some part of him did really love her. Those thoughts weren't permitted. No. She couldn't fall into the trap again....

Friendly concern. Guilt. A sense of responsibility. That's all it was.

So what would be the big deal, then? After all, she didn't want to be alone if this renegade did happen to go hunting in her neck of the woods. Let Nick get her home safely. Didn't he owe her at least that?

"Okay," she agreed uncomfortably.

The smile in his eyes melted the thinly veiled lies she'd just told herself. She knew damn well why she'd accepted. And she hated herself for it.

He'd sent Schanke on a paper trail, doing whatever research he could after hours; anything to keep him indoors. He didn't want Schanke, or any other cop for that matter, to be the first to encounter their "suspect". It was a vampire; a vampire who killed indiscriminately. Any mortal was at risk. Nick knew he couldn't protect them all. But he'd safeguard those he could. His friends; the ones he loved....

Schanke, he realized, was about the only one now who fit into the first category. And the void left in his life by Natalie was devastating. Knowing he could not love her, be with her in the way he wanted, had been painful enough. But as a friend he'd come to depend on her. He realized only now how much he'd taken that friendship for granted. It had all been on his terms. She'd been there whenever he'd needed her. But how seldom he'd been there for her! And how often he'd ignored her completely when Janette had been able to fill his needs. He was a selfish bastard and he knew it. And now they were both paying for it.

The scent of humans brought his attention back to the situation at hand. He looked in the distance to see a young girl walking across campus. He followed her with his eyes until she'd safely reached the dorm building, then sighed.

This was useless. He couldn't be everywhere on campus. But this killer was somewhere.

He let the wind carry him upwards. Perhaps from the sky he could get a better view....

She watched him disappear into the night sky. So intense. So sad. He never seemed to change. She'd kept safely from his view, from his ability to sense her. But she'd stared at him for hours, taking in every line of his face, the blond curls at his neck, the light in his clear blue eyes. Every aspect so perfectly as she remembered....

She'd drawn him here, led him here with the delicious string of young mortals she'd left in her wake. And now she would lie in wait. The time would have to be right, before she could make her presence known....

And then she would have him. This time, she would have him.

Her eyes burned amber with her desire for him. Yes, this time. And no one would stand in her way.

Natalie looked impatiently at her watch. Almost one in the morning. She shouldn't be here. Her work had been done over an hour ago. Yet, what if another victim arrived? Another young body to examine, another death to explain, to cover....

The guilt over her part in it all weighed heavily upon her. Covering for Nick, helping to maintain his secrecy, was one thing. Becoming a tool of the vampire community was another matter altogether. She couldn't go on doing this. It went against every grain of her character, every ounce of integrity, every moral precept that had ruled her entire life. She'd compromised too much of herself for *him*. She wouldn't do it for *them* too.

The silence in the morgue was deafening, too. Everyone else had gone, and once again, she found herself alone with nothing but her thoughts....

She wouldn't give into them. She switched on the radio at her desk. Why was it that in trying to keep her mind off Nick, she found herself turning to LaCroix? Yet something in his voice, his calm, soothed her. She wanted to hear him. She wanted to know more about him, to know what lay behind the rough facade he tried so desperately to maintain. Nick had been so wrong about him. There was so much more to him than she had ever imagined, a side she wanted to explore....

Why?

She didn't know. Perhaps because the excitement, the newness of it all, the fascination, allowed her to forget her despair, or rather to pretend that she could forget it. That there *was* life beyond Nick....

"It's one a.m., Gentle Listeners. And the Nightcrawler wants you to be careful. It isn't safe to be out after dark...."

Natalie's lips parted in surprise. "He cares about them," she whispered in disbelief.

Nick's recollections truly did not do him justice.

Five hours had yielded nothing but frustration. The campus was deserted, as frightened students made a point of being indoors. Nick glanced at his watch, and, seeing that it was nearly one, pulled out his cell phone. His lips involuntarily formed a smile as she answered. It was good to hear her voice. And he was overcome with the sudden desire to see her. "Natalie? It's me. There's nothing here. I realized it was late, and thought I'd come to take you home. If you're ready."

"Yeah, I think I'm finished here," she replied tiredly.

"I'll be right there," he promised.

He flew to his car. Walking just wouldn't get him there fast enough. And he wanted to see her....

She wanted to see him. She could deny it to herself no longer. But as he entered her office, with that charming smile that he'd reserved for some of their closest moments, she realized that he was drawing her in. And she couldn't let him. It was as if he wanted to forget everything that had happened.

She couldn't. She wouldn't. And she turned on the professional facade that she'd always used with him in public. The disappointment on his face was immediate and overwhelming. Had he actually had the gall to think that she could go back to the way things were?

"Anything new on the bodies?" he asked awkwardly, understanding that she was setting limits with him. Work was all she would discuss.

"Nothing," she replied, as they headed to her car. She sat in the driver's seat, not feeling quite comfortable as he took his place beside her. It was too close, too intimate. He could just reach over and....

He did. His hand covered hers on the steering wheel. "Are you okay?"

She hated his concern. *Why now?* she thought bitterly. *Why not think of me before?*

"I'm fine, " she replied, not wanting to let her voice shake. It was hard to concentrate with his hand on hers. So cool, yet sending waves of heat throughout her body. *He knows it too, damn him!* she thought angrily. She moved her hand, pretending to adjust the rear-view mirror. An obvious ploy to break the contact, but she didn't care. It was easier if she didn't touch him.

"What about you? How's your health? You look a little pale." She hadn't wanted to ask, but it was better than the repressive silence.

"I've been staying off the blood," he told her, not without some pride, as if he were trying to impress her.

"Completely?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah. I suppose I needed a catharsis. Maybe this...will change things."

She looked at him sharply, but brought her eyes quickly back to the road before her.

"Nat, I miss you," he blurted suddenly.

She couldn't look into his eyes. What a lucky break that she was driving! "Nick, I thought you promised this wouldn't be about us," she reminded him softly. If she spoke with any more force, her voice would break.

"I'm sorry," he responded quickly, settling back into the passenger seat. "Really, I...I just want to make sure you get home okay."

And as he fell into silence, she believed him. He would not press further, and she sighed with relief as she pulled into a spot in front of her house.

He insisted on walking her to the door, and once more she felt that awkward indecision. But she couldn't invite him inside. She couldn't let it happen again. "So, are you going back to the campus?" she asked as she turned her key in the lock.

"No. I think I'll go to the Raven to see if anyone has heard--"

He stopped mid-sentence, and she knew it was because of the way she must have visibly stiffened at the mention of Janette's club. "Okay, well, I've gotta get some sleep--"

"Nat, wait," he said, holding the door open. "I swear to you, I'm going there for information. That's all--"

"I...don't care," she said steadily. "It's none of my business."

"Yes, it is." His eyes were begging her to forgive his faux pas, to believe him.

But any part of her that may have relaxed with him had tensed immediately. Her shields were back up. "No, it's not," she said firmly. "Not anymore."

She stepped inside, turning to look at him once last time. "Good night, Nick. And thanks for bringing me home."

She closed the door before he could silently protest with his anguished eyes.

In the street, Nick smashed his fist into a light pole, denting it. What stupidity! How could he have been so foolish as to mention the Raven? How would he ever prove to her that his relationship with Janette was over?

He couldn't. And as he flew off into the night, it occurred to him that once again he had taken Natalie's feelings for granted. Winning her back would not be as simple as abstaining from blood, or distancing himself from Janette. The emotional wounds he had inflicted upon her ran too deep. Even in his darkest moments, the hope had lived secretly within him that she could forgive him in time. But the awful realization had begun to sink in.

She might never forgive him. And it was quite possible that he had destroyed not only her trust, but any love she had ever felt for him.

He knew he deserved it. But the thought of going on without her in his life terrified him.

He had never loved like this. So why had he treated her so badly? She had been right when she'd told him that their relationship had been one-sided. He'd always expected her to be there for him. What had he ever given her in return? Pain? Abuse? How many times had he hurt her, taking out his frustrations, his disappointments? Yet she had stood by him until finally he'd committed the ultimate act of betrayal.

No, he couldn't blame her. This time, he could blame no one for his misery. Only himself.

Perhaps his own selfishness was an even greater enemy that LaCroix had ever been.

She watched him disappear into the darkness, wanting to follow. But no. The time wasn't right.

So this was his 'Natalie'. She could destroy her in an instant, she knew. She wanted to. But she wasn't quite sure just how Nicholas would react. Better to wait.

She'd waited over seven hundred years. A few days more would make no difference whatsoever.

She glanced at the light in the second floor window, then lifted herself slowly up into the air.

Wait. And watch. Yes, that was what she would do.

How dare he?!

"Who the hell does he think he is?!" she yelled, scaring Sydney, and half hoping that with his preternatural hearing, Nick had somehow heard her. The audacity of him to even think that things could ever be as they were between them, when less than *a week* had passed since he'd slept with Janette, drunk her blood....

How could he even mention the Raven, when it had been in that very spot that he had devastated her, crushing her heart as she'd seen him there with Janette...?!

Once more *that image* swam before her. This time she held onto it, drawing strength from it, letting it feed her anger. *Don't forget what he did to you, Nat,* she told herself. *Don't let him wear you down. Don't let him touch you...or smile at you like that...Just keep hating him as much as you do right now....*

The doorbell. His impudence infuriated her. She strode to the door, gathering all her will, determined that this time she would not weaken....

"Why can't you just leave me alo--?!"

She stopped mid-sentence, to see a confused LaCroix staring back at her. Her mouth dropped open, then formed a smile. In spite of herself, she let out a light laugh.

He'd remembered to use the doorbell.

"Did I come at an inopportune time?" he asked politely, far too charming.

"Well, in a way--I mean, no. It's okay. Come in." She stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. "I'm sorry. I thought you were--"

"Nicholas?" he offered.

What was it in his eyes? Curiosity? Or something more?

"Nick insisted on bringing me home," she said simply, then added, "probably not the best idea in retrospect."

He nodded his understanding. "I came by to see if you had gotten home safely," he explained, seeming awkward at the need to make conversation. "I stopped at the Coroner's Office, but you had already left."

"Thank you," she said, her appreciation genuine. "And, I'm sorry. The screaming was meant for him."

"Might I take it then that the smile was meant for me?" he asked with a slight teasing glint in his eyes.

She felt her cheeks grow hot. "I was pleasantly surprised that you'd remembered to use the doorbell."

"I thought that with this renegade still on the loose it would be quite unsettling if I had decided to just come in unannounced," he said in all seriousness. He paused, looking at her for a long moment as if not sure if he were welcome. "Well, as long as you're safe, I suppose I should leave you alone to get your rest."

"Oh, no," she said quickly, then, embarrassed, added, "It's okay--if you'd like to stay a while. I'm too wired to get to sleep right now anyway. I wouldn't mind some company."

And while part of her screamed, *What the hell are you doing?!*, another part felt a sense of relief at his gentle smile. She didn't want to be alone.

"I would like that," he told her, as she sat on the couch and motioned for him to join her. "I enjoyed our conversation last night."

"So did I," she admitted.

He hesitated a moment, before choosing a spot to sit. Close enough to look into her eyes, far enough to not seem threatening. "It really isn't very often that I find someone with whom I can speak so...freely."

"Human or vampire?" she asked.

"Either," he replied. "Most mortals do not know of us. Those who do are usually too afraid to open up to us." He smiled. "Present company excepted, of course."

"I know how you feel," she told him, cradling a pillow in her arms as if subconsciously holding a shield between them. "It's difficult to talk to people when there are things you have to keep secret. You don't know how often I've felt that way in the last three years."

He looked at her in curious disbelief. "Someone like you must have many friends...family..."

She breathed deeply. "I did. But my parents moved to the States, and my brother Richard was the only one I had. He...died...a year and a half ago."

She didn't know why. But suddenly she wanted to tell him all about what had happened to Richard. Finally there was someone besides Nick who could know...understand....

"Tell me," he urged, as if reading her thoughts.

So she did. LaCroix listened patiently, captivated by her story. And when she was through, she felt free. It was something she and Nick had so seldom discussed. Perhaps it was the guilt they shared.

"It was my fault," she said quietly. "I begged him to do it. I was wrong."

LaCroix reached out to place his hand on hers. "You didn't want to lose him. You were afraid. There was nothing wrong with that."

"Nick knew better," she said sadly.

"He's lived longer," LaCroix replied gently, then added thoughtfully, "Although, he's not always the wiser for it. If I may say so, he was very foolish as far as his relationship with you was concerned."

"Yeah, well, I suppose there was a lot that got in our way."

"Including me?"

She looked up at him without the bitterness he might have expected. "You know, I don't really think it would have mattered in the end. We may have been happy for a while...but he would probably have gone back to Janette sooner or later anyway."

LaCroix shook his head slowly, more out of disbelief than disagreement. "Trust me, Natalie. You have a great deal more to offer than Janette."

She stood uncomfortably. "Would you mind if we changed the topic? Nick and Janette are the last people I want to think about right now."

He rose to meet her, reaching out to touch her hair as he gazed into her eyes. "You are in such pain." It was an observation. But she could see a compassion on his face, almost as if he could feel her anguish.

"Yeah, well, I guess it's an occupational hazard of falling in love with a vampire," she said, meeting his gaze.

His hand moved to her cheek, warming her with his cool caress. "I wish you would let me take away your pain."

And as his meaning became immediately clear to her, she was afraid--not that he would harm her, but that he would take her memories away from her, in essence, take Nick away from her. And she could not bear to lose the only part of him that was hers--her memory of him. Her first instinct was to pull away. But somehow she knew that LaCroix was giving her a choice. Rather than avert what might soon become a hypnotic gaze, she looked him squarely in the eyes, as she said firmly, "No."

"Why not, Natalie? Why not spare yourself the misery of his betrayal--the very memory that you ever felt anything for him at all? Wouldn't it be easier?"

"Erasing the memories won't erase the feelings, LaCroix," she replied. "In any case, our pain...our experiences...are what make us who we are."

She could see that she'd hit upon a point he could not argue.

"Anyway, to lose the bad memories, I'd have to lose the good ones too," she added.

Now he looked at her dubiously. "And did loving Nicholas bring you anything but pain?""

"Yes," she told him without hesitation. "More than you can imagine. And if all I can have are my memories of him, then that's something that no one should take away from me."

He regarded her for a long moment as she kept her eyes locked steadily on his, silently telling him that she would not yield to his mind control even if he were to try. "Then I will respect your wishes," he told her finally. His fingers lingered a moment more on her face, then dropped to his side.

He sank back into the couch, pensive, as if wondering himself why he had not forced his will upon her, as if troubled that she had somehow had the resoluteness and the strength to stop him. Natalie dropped down next to him, her victory in this last round giving her the confidence to dare to move closer.

"What about you, LaCroix," she prodded gently. "Tell me about *your* pain."

He looked at her, slight surprise on his face, then smiled weakly. "I would wish to tell you that I have none. But I don't think you would believe me."

She shook her head.

He sighed deeply. "My pain. Where to begin? My greatest pain was Fleur. Nicholas' sister. I loved her as I have never loved before, or since. And I wished to bring her across."

"But what did *she* want?" Natalie asked delicately.

"She wanted to be with me," he responded simply.

"Did she understand--realize--what it would mean?"

He nodded. "Yes. But Nicholas convinced me that I would destroy the very purity in her that I adored. And I...would not do that."

Natalie slipped her hand over his, a comforting gesture which he seemed to appreciate. "Is that why you wanted him to bring me over?" she dared.

He shook his head, looking down at her hand and covering it with his other one. "No. That's why I *stopped him *from bringing you over."

Her lips parted in surprise as he went on.

"I suppose in an ironic way, I will have my retribution. For one day, sweet Natalie, you will be gone." He lifted his eyes to hers, betraying his sadness at the prospect. "And then Nicholas will know the pain I have endured when he rues the day that he did *not* make you immortal."

She looked away at the mention of his name. "He doesn't care."

"Oh yes, he does. But he also believes that we are evil creatures. He would rather see you die than transform you into one of us."

Natalie's eyes rose to meet his once more. "But you're not evil." She stated it as a simple fact.

He laughed lightly. "You don't think so?"

"No. You've *done* evil, LaCroix. But I don't believe you are inherently evil. Or that becoming a vampire makes one evil."

He considered her words. "Perhaps it would be more precise to say that I am no more cruel or ruthless as a vampire than I was as a human. That is the crux of Nicholas' torment, you see. That he was too good, too honorable, denying any of the darker aspects of his character. That is why he could never bear to kill. He felt guilt from the start."

"What about you?" she asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from Nick again. "You never felt guilty murdering?"

He thought a moment, as if trying to find a time in his long life that he had truly felt guilt. "Perhaps if you understood where it began.... When I was a young boy in Rome, I saw my father murder my mother and her lover. He stabbed the life out of them, and left them lying in puddles of blood. 'This is justice, Lucius,' he told me. 'Betrayal should always be met with retribution. And the best revenge is to take the lives of those who have betrayed you. To destroy those who cause you pain.'"

"And you believed him?" she asked, horrified at the thought that a little boy had witnessed such an atrocious act.

"I believed him so that when he slept that night I slit his throat--to avenge the death of my mother. 'Destroy those who cause you pain.'"

Natalie was dumbstruck. "How awful," she said softly.

"It was quite an educational experience, you see. It taught me that it was within my power to destroy whomever I wished. If thy right hand offend thee, then cut it off. Isn't that the phrase? Perhaps if made life problematic for a child of five. But I caught the notice of the emperor. And in time I became the most treacherous general in the Roman Army. Nothing was beyond me. Murder, rape...I even fathered a daughter with the wife of an ineffectual Senator who could not please her as I could. And he dared not say a word. Until one day, in a drunken stupor, he came up to me, placed his knife at my throat, and threatened to kill me.

"I turned the knife on him and slew him as my daughter Divia watched. She was only four...but she learned her lessons well from me."

"What happened to her?"

"It was in Pompeii, right before Vesuvius covered the city with its deadly flow. She fell ill while I was away on a campaign. An ancient healer had come to see her, and had left her cured. But strangely quiet, pale, not playing with the other children in the sunlight...."

Natalie's eyes grew wide. "Someone brought her over?"

"Yes. And when the moment of death was at hand, she asked if I chose to live or die. Of course, I chose to live. I couldn't believe that even the gods could destroy me. I had no idea what she was, what she could do...."

"So your own daughter made you this?" It was too incredulous to be true.

"Yes. And the blood was so strong in her that she became as cruel a master as you can imagine." Natalie could hear the bitterness in his voice as he continued, "Relentlessly following me through the eternity she'd condemned me to...Almost a thousand years passed before I was able to free myself of her."

And as LaCroix's astonishing words seemed to echo what she had heard so often from Nick, it all became ridiculously clear to her. "That's why you made Nick and Janette," she whispered. "You were so tired of being controlled by Divia--*you* wanted to be the Master, the one with power--"

"Yes," he said absently, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he had never made the connection himself. "But not entirely. It was different with them."

"Because you love them," she offered. "That's why you didn't kill Nick for betraying you."

He looked into her eyes, his expression softer than she had ever seen it, filled almost with wonder. "You...understand me...as no one else has."

"Perhaps you never gave anyone else the chance to."

"I...have never told this story to anyone. Oh, Nicholas and Janette do know of Divia--they knew her. But nothing more of my past."

"Why? How could you spend almost a millennium with them and not have told them all about yourself?" She paused, thinking through the answer for herself. "You didn't want to seem vulnerable to them. You didn't want them to know your past, or that you had been controlled by anyone. It would have made you seem less powerful."

"I wanted them to fear me," he admitted. "Yet to achieve this I forfeited the companionship of an equal in whom I could confide all I had felt, all I had done in my lifetime."

"It's difficult to trust," she agreed. "To let our vulnerabilities show. Nick has told me so much...and yet he could never tell me anything really bad that he'd done...he didn't trust me to understand."

He looked at her, uncomprehending. "Why would you wish to know these things?"

"To feel trusted. To know him completely. There are a lot of reasons."

"He trusted you more than he has ever trusted any mortal," he assured her.

She looked down. "That wasn't enough. I could never be to him what Janette was."

"You understand so much, Natalie, and yet you are blind when it comes to Nicholas. He confides in Janette because she knows what he was. What he's done. He doesn't love her. And he certainly doesn't trust her. She's betrayed him to me more times than you could possibly imagine. And she's hurt him in more ways than you could ever be capable of."

"Look, it's all moot, remember?" She rose uncomfortably. She didn't want to hear how wonderful she was compared to Janette. Did LaCroix's opinion really matter? Nick had made his choice when he'd gone back to his vampire lover.

"Natalie," he said softly, but with a commanding voice. She looked into his eyes, letting him take her hand and gently pull her down to sit back down beside him. But she knew there was no mind control at play. It was his personality, his charisma--so strong, so overpowering. She *wanted* to listen to him. And as long as it was her choice to speak with him, be with him, what was so wrong?

"Please...let's not talk about Nick," she implored. This was one aspect she must control.

"Then what shall we talk about?" he asked pleasantly, still holding her hand as if the contact were warming his soul.

"You," she said boldly. "Tell me more about you."

She'd kept her distance, knowing that LaCroix would sense her outside the window. Yet it all seemed so deliciously complicated; she could not resist listening to their conversation. Clearly this woman was in love with Nicholas--and Nicholas had returned her feelings, but gone back to that harlot of his, as always. But *this* was incredible. Did LaCroix love her too?

It seemed unlikely. But if it weren't so, why didn't he just feed on her and have it done with?

A warm wind pricked at her skin, and she looked to the east intinctively. This was fascinating--but not worth being scorched in the rising sun. Time to go home--and contemplate all she had learned....

It did get more and more interesting....

They spoke for hours, LaCroix recounting the wonders he had seen with as much gusto as if he were reliving them with her. Then, the horrors of all that he had done, no detail spared to soften the impact. Hundreds of thousands had died to sustain him, hundreds of thousands more to soothe his savage lust. And as she listened intently, carefully guarding her reactions lest he see the fear that the images evoked, he seemed to grow weary from the catharsis, as if he'd never before laid out all the evil of his existence at once. And her refusal to shrink away from him, to run from him in fear, seemed to enthrall him.

"And still you do not fear me?" he asked in wonder as the sky outside began to grow crimson at the horizon.

"Do you want me to?" she countered.

He shook his head, then glanced out the window as if an inner sense had suddenly warned him of the coming dawn. "No. And I don't want to leave, just yet. But I must. I've already cut it dangerously close."

"Then stay," she bid him. Then, at his questioning look, added, "The shades work just fine. Trust me."

The Raven had yielded no answers, and Nick had remained on the University campus until the red tinge on the horizon had warned of the rising sun. Another fruitless night. And a killer was still on the loose.

It had been a bad night all around. And as he lowered the shades of the loft, Nick almost wondered if it wouldn't be better to leave them raised and let the sun take its toll on him. Janette's pep talk had given him an optimism which his brief time with Natalie had shot down completely. And as his thoughts went back to Natalie--as if they ever strayed far from her--he cursed himself again for his thoughtlessness and lack of tact.

He reached for the phone, then glanced at his watch--the watch she had given him. Five forty-five a.m. After the shift she'd had, she'd probably be asleep by now. A few weeks ago, it had been normal for them to speak at all hours of the day or night. Now, he didn't exactly think a call from him would be welcome at any time.

But as he lay on the couch, willing sleep to come, he realized that it would not--not until he'd at least spoken to her briefly, apologized for upsetting her. Maybe she couldn't sleep either. Maybe calling her would be the right thing, the thoughtful thing to do this time....

He dialed her number, holding his breath, hoping he wouldn't get her machine. His chest became tense as he heard her voice.

"Hello?"

Wide awake. Had she been waiting to hear from him?

"Nat, it's me. I'm sorry for calling so early, but I had to talk to you. Apologize for last night.

A long pause.

"It's...it's okay. Look, Nick, I really can't talk right now."

His chest tightened even more. "Natalie, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, it's just not a good time. I can't talk."

It hit him like ton of bricks. "Nat...is there someone there?"

Too long a pause this time. "Yes," she said finally, as if she'd wanted to avoid it, but couldn't.

For one of the few times in centuries, he found himself at a complete loss for words.

"Nick, I...have to go."

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I'll...let you go, then." He hung up before she would have to reply.

And as a myriad of emotions flooded him--anger, jealousy, and utter shock-- he knew that only one thing could numb the pain.

And as the blood passed his lips, he wondered just how much it would take to assuage the beast that was waiting to erupt within him.

The wonder of her assaulted his senses, and he kissed her deeply, their bodies pressed together in a passionate embrace. And LaCroix knew at once that she'd awakened passions in him long-dead, desires he would not be able to control. And as he yearned to possess her flesh, to love her as he had dared love no one in centuries, a euphoria overtook him with the mere realization that he could....

But as he lost himself in the taste of her skin, the soft scent of her hair, he realized that his kisses had begun to leave a trail of blood, as his emerging fangs grazed the soft skin of her neck.

Overcome with a horror that was new to him, LaCroix willed himself to restrain from the reflex that had been so natural to him for the past two thousand years. But his sexual and emotional desire for her had become inextricably intertwined with his hunger.

He wanted her.

He would have to have her.

Natalie's cry of pain was brief, but made him shudder. He could feel his lips quivering at the first taste of her blood, both from the intense pleasure and equally intense guilt. But oh, how sweet was her life essence as it filled him, sating him, enveloping him in the ecstasy of his union with her....

A weak whimper escaped from Natalie's lips, and LaCroix felt her body heave beneath his, even as his own trembled with his fulfillment. He'd tried desperately to hold back, to satisfy his hunger without draining her of life. But his desire had been uncontrollable, the taste of her blood too delectable, consuming him as he did her. He lay her gently back on the bed and reached out with trembling fingers to touch her neck, now bruised and bloodied. And as his senses told him what he'd already known, despair engulfed him.

He'd drained her completely.

He'd wanted to make love to her. She'd trusted him, reached out to him, accepted him, as no one had since Fleur. And he'd betrayed her.

He hadn't wanted this. Even as his teeth had broken her flesh, he'd wanted only to taste of her, to know her in the most intimate way imaginable. Even as her blood had invigorated him, and he'd felt her fear, somewhere in the back of his mind he'd imagined letting her drink of him, restoring her life with his own powerful essence, making her his for all eternity.

But he'd lost himself in her, and all reason had fallen to the wayside in his need to have her.

And now, she was gone forever.

The grief was unbearable. And as he reached down to kiss her lips tenderly, he could feel his eyes burning with the blood tears he'd forgotten he could shed.

"I'm sorry, Natalie," he said in a voice choked with emotion.

But the pale, lifeless body whose essence now flowed in his veins could no more respond than assuage his pain....

LaCroix awoke with a start to find himself in darkness, drenched in his own blood sweat. He bolted upright and scanned the room quickly with his preternatural vision. Night had fallen, but despite his disorientation, he could clearly make out the features of Natalie Lambert's living room.

In a panic, he rose, pushing open the door to her bedroom, almost unsure of what he might find.

He sighed in relief. On the bed, Natalie slept peacefully, her chest rising and falling with her breathing, her cat Sydney nestled in her arms.

It had been a dream! Or rather, a sweet fantasy that had become a nightmare. But how real it had seemed! And as he sat down beside her sleeping form, the joy at seeing her beautiful face flushed a healthy pink was immeasurable. Yet he could sense her, hear her heartbeat, smell the inviting scent of her blood, even more intensely than he had in his dream. And he knew that if he did not find sustenance elsewhere, Natalie's fate would be sealed.

"Natalie," he whispered softly, just loud enough to wake her without startling her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and again he sighed with relief to see her vibrancy.

"Is it night already?" she asked sleepily.

He nodded. "And I must go," he said tenderly.

Her hand reached up to touch him, and he grasped it quickly in his own. He knew she did not fear him, yet he feared himself. Just the touch of her hand was rousing his desire to have her.

"I...haven't fed," he said, though the effort to control his features was making it difficult to concentrate. "I'm afraid...to be near you." He raised her hand to his lips, brushing against it in a chaste kiss. Then, as he released it, he looked into her eyes in wonder at the fact that she had not feared for him to do so.

"Then go," she said softly. "I understand."

He nodded, rising, heading towards the door, then turning back to face her. "Natalie, it will be...bottled," he assured her, though he didn't know why he'd felt the need to do so.

Her expression became soft with an almost imperceptible relief. And it warmed him to know that he had pleased her.

But each moment he spent in her presence brought his nightmare closer to reality. "Good bye," he said in a husky voice, and hurried from her.

Only after he'd flown into the darkened sky did he allow himself the luxury of reliving in his mind the sensation of holding her in his dreams. And as he felt his eyes burn amber with his desire, he was glad that he had left in time.

He would never allow himself to get so dangerously close to taking her again.

She arrived with the evening sky, her yellow eyes ablaze with the hunger of a new night. She wanted to feed, to relieve the all-consuming thirst which deterred her from more pressing matters. But she'd come here first, her curiosity more compelling than her vampiric needs.

She had to know what had happened after she'd left. Had LaCroix taken the mortal woman Natalie? And if so, what would happen when Nicholas found out? She smiled to herself to realize that these two were as entertaining as they'd ever been. Always at odds, yet inexorably bound by blood. Ironic that LaCroix had learned so well the art of being the very thing he loathed--a ruthless and possessive master. And now, his relentless efforts to bring Nicholas back to the fold had culminated in what was truly an eternal triangle--two immortals pitted against each other for the love of a mortal woman.

It was the stuff Greek tragedies were made of! If only Aeschylus could have written the lives of Lucius "LaCroix" and Nicolas de Brabant! Humans and gods, murder, revenge, divine justice...even Agamemnon could not compare!

Hidden in the shade of the trees, she watched her eyes opening wide with pleasure as LaCroix hurried from the building and leapt into flight. He'd gone so quickly that she hadn't even needed to exert mind control to keep him from sensing her.

LaCroix fleeing? From whom? From what? Even if he'd taken the woman, what retribution could he possibly fear?

She rose up to the window she knew to be Natalie's. The sound of running water told her that the woman must be in the shower. So, he had not fed from her! For a brief moment, her hunger seemed to well up inside her, as she considered draining the woman herself. But she dismissed the thought. No point in disrupting the play that was underway. Besides, a University campus awaited, filled with those delicious young fraternity boys with whom she could toy before taking her sustenance....

She was about to turn away from the window when the scent of animal blood filled her nostrils. Suddenly she saw it....

A cat. Watching her every move, meowing his defiance. Surely it wouldn't be missed....

"Sydney?" Natalie's voice from the bathroom sent the cat scurrying.

She cursed aloud as she fell swiftly to the ground. It was just as well. Better not to waste any more time here....

But then she sensed him. Coming near. Anxious. Angry. Jealousy raging....

In the shadows she hid, willing herself to be obscured from him. She watched as he slowly rose up to the window where she'd hovered just moments before, his long black coat flowing in the cool evening breeze.

She looked on in fascination at the concern that creased his brow, the anger in his crystal blue eyes, the grief on the handsome face that had moved her so many centuries before. She wanted more than anything to reach out to him, to make her presence known. Perhaps now, after all this time, he would see that she was the only one who truly loved him--not that whore upon whom he'd wasted so many centuries, nor this fragile being who would be withered and dead in a mere heartbeat of their immortal lives.....

The time wasn't right. But how she wanted to run her fingers through his hair, taste his lips, drink of his blood and let him drink of hers...

She could feel her eyes flaming red with her desire for him. As always. But she just could not break away....

Nicholas' face seemed to fill with relief. Most likely, he'd seen that Natalie was alone. Seemingly satisfied, he pulled himself away.

In moments, he was gone.

Time to take care of her own needs.

Time to feed.

And she would choose one who looked just like him.

Natalie dressed for work just a bit more slowly than usual, becoming lost in thought at every turn. And as she sat on the bed looking at her reflection, she almost felt as if a stranger stared back at her. For surely, Natalie Lambert had always had more common sense than this. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked her image. Sydney's meow was her only reply.

LaCroix was a killer. At any moment, as they had spoken, or later, as she had slept...he could have taken her; fed from her, then discarded her as the millions of lifeless husks whose essences he had drained without a second thought.

But he hadn't.

What did LaCroix want of her? And just as importantly, what did she really want of him? What did she expect, or hope, to come of this association? What *could* possibly come of it?

With Nick, it had been different. He'd been striving to become human. And she knew now that she had always secretly hoped to be part of that new life, long before he had confided sharing her dream. But with LaCroix, there was nowhere a relationship of any kind could lead. Friendship? Perhaps. Yet the attraction, the sexual tension between them, was undeniable. And she knew that that direction could only have two outcomes for her--death, or being brought across. The only thing she did know for certain was that neither was an acceptable option.

So what did she want from LaCroix? What drew her to him? He was handsome, yes. And the sophistication, the charm, that he exuded had little to do with his vampiric state. He was sexy, enthralling, and probably had been as a mortal. But Natalie knew it was more than even that.

She needed him. She craved the attention he bestowed upon her, the interest, the affection, the tender gestures, the willingness to reveal even his darkest self to her--all the things that she'd needed so desperately, *still wanted* so desperately, from Nick. *I've known him such a short time, and he's more concerned about me than Nick ever was,* she thought to herself. Yes, he definitely had all the qualities Nick was lacking--the maturity, the sensitivity. He knew how to treat a lady.

*Right before he kills her*, her more cautious self warned.

But he *hadn't* killed her. He'd left tonight precisely to keep from hurting her.

It felt good to be cared for. She deserved it. And she'd waited much too long.

Yet still, where *could* it all lead?

Nowhere. And she knew it. But she also knew that without LaCroix's attention right now to keep her mind off Nick, she'd be drowning in her own despeair. And if LaCroix, if anyone, could save her from that, she would let him.

It was what she needed. And for once, *she* had to come first.

The smell of beer was sickening; even the mortal girls had told her so. To her, it was a necessary evil; these hedonistic gatherings, these so-called frat parties, were an ideal hunting ground. For they were replete with handsome, athletic young men, whom, in their intoxicated state, she could lead off at will with the promises of a sexual thrill they were constantly in search of.

Here, in the University setting, her appearance worked ideally to her advantage. For while she'd always had difficulty passing as a grown woman, with the proper clothes and makeup she was a small college freshman, the most sought after commodity on campus. These virile young men, she'd learned, were attracted to the naive, the virginal. And it was wonderful fun convincing them that they'd made a great conquest before they themselves were vanquished by a force greater than they could have imagined.

Sometimes, if she were well-fed, she could carry out the ruse to its conclusion, feigning innocence as she allowed young men to believe they had been the first to penetrate her child-like veneer. Other times, she would carry the seduction just so far, before belying her centuries of experience in the art of mortal lovemaking. She would pleasure them, astonish them...

...but they never lived to tell of it. So her deceptions were never exposed, and she maintained them for her amusement, never tiring of the game.

She'd wanted to teach Nicholas once--show him how to control his hunger, to enjoy the pleasures of his former life. But he'd refused her. What a fool he'd been! All the years of abstinence he'd suffered because he'd been too stubborn!

Perhaps before all was said and done, he would change his mind.

He'd be an even greater fool not to.

The one she'd chosen tonight looked a lot like him, she mused, as the tall college sophomore led her by the hand into a secluded wooden area. At almost six feet, he towered over her. His hair was blond, curled at the bottom as Nicholas' had been tonight. And though his blue eyes were devoid of maturity, they shone with youthfulness, with life, every time he smiled.

He was adorable.

It was a shame he'd have to die. But then again, what would be the sport in seducing an ugly young man?

He'd been drinking vodka, and the taste of it on his lips was much more tolerable than the beer would have been. He kissed her slowly at first, hesitantly, and she pretended to let him take the lead. But her patience was thin tonight, and as she skillfully thrust her tongue in to his mouth, he pulled away from her in surprise.

"Are you sure you're a virgin?" he asked dubiously.

"Of course," she replied in her high, child-like voice. Then, with a feigned look of concern, added, "You do promise to be gentle, don't you?"

"Mmm-hm," he mumbled as he found her lips again. In moments, he had pulled her down to the grass. She fought to keep from laughing at the awkward way in which he was inching his hand towards her breast, as he asked, "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Divia," she replied sweetly, looking into his eyes undaunted as he fondled her through her blouse. "And you?"

"Nicky," he replied as he fumbled with her buttons.

This time she broke into a smile. Too perfect. But he was too drunk to notice.

"Divia. Are you Italian?" he asked, bringing his lips to hers once more.

Divia didn't answer, instead closing her eyes to pretend...And as she ran her fingers through his hair, kissing him hungrily, she imagined that it was Nicholas who held her, Nicholas' hand that reached under her clothes to caress her flesh. And while the warm hands sent waves of arousal through her, she fantasized the heat that Nicholas' cold hands would leave in their wake....

And as she thought of him, she could feel her eyes begin to burn, her fangs protruding even as she fought to keep them hidden...

But this young boy could not compare to her Nicholas. She could feel him reaching clumsily between her thighs, groping drunkenly, without the expertise of a grown man. The idiot! How could she pretend this child was Nicholas? And suddenly, his inability to pleasure her, to cooperate with her fantasy, enraged her. She had no patience for this!

In a moment she'd snapped his neck, bringing it to her thirsty lips. And she drained him mercilessly, annoyed at herself for having wasted so much time.

No one would satisfy her as Nicholas could, as he had that one time...When LaCroix had starved him, and Divia had found him, offering herself to him. They had spent a glorious night, their blood and flesh intermingling....

When it had been over, he'd rejected her. Told her that it had been a mistake, that his hunger had made him lose all reason. He could not make love to a thirteen year old girl, he'd said, totally oblivious to the fact that she'd been over twelve hundred years old....

Divia threw the lifeless form of Nicky onto the ground. "I am no child, Nicholas," she said aloud, her voice filled with venom. "And I will not prey on these boys pretending they are you. I *will* have you again," she vowed. "This time, I will have you."

And no one would stand in her way.

] Not Janette.

Not LaCroix.

And certainly not Natalie.

It was just before ten o'clock, the time she usually took a dinner break when she worked the late shift. Nick didn't know why he'd come here, except perhaps to look into her eyes and see if all feeling for him was truly gone. Schanke, as usual, had no clue. But then again, Nick had never told him that his feelings for Natalie went beyond friendship. Why should he take notice of the fact that they'd barely spoken in the last two weeks?

But as they entered the Corner's Office, it was Grace who met them. Nick tried to listen for Natalie's voice, for her heartbeat, somewhere else. He drew a blank. "Grace, we just came for the autopsy report on the last victim. Has he been I.D.ed?"

She handed him the file solemnly. "Your copy, Detective."

He thanked her, taking it, opening it, going through the motions. But as his eyes scanned the page without seeing, he still listened for some sign of her. He realized Schanke was reading over his shoulder, and handed him the file, turning uncomfortably back to Grace. "Grace, is, uh, Natalie around? I thought if she were on her dinner break--"

"She is," Grace said with meaning, a twinkle in her eyes. "Just as I was coming in, I saw her leave with that new boyfriend of hers--"

"Wait, wait, what 'new boyfriend'?" he broke in, heedless of his lack of subtlety.

"I don't know his name," she admitted. "Or anything really about him. But she's been spending a lot of time with him lately."

"Lately? Since when?" he asked, in the tone of voice he usually reserved for interrogations.

"The last couple of days," she responded, looking at him strangely. "Detective Knight, is there something wrong?"

"No," he replied, deep in thought. "There's just a lot going on--I worry about her spending so much time with a stranger."

Grace seemed satisfied with his answer.

When they had left the building, Schanke turned to him, shaking his head. "Man, oh man, what was that third degree about? You'd think Natalie had been kidnapped--"

"I already said it, I'm just worried about her," he snapped, getting into the car.

Schanke watched his face silently for a few moments as they drove, before saying, "Do I detect a note of jealousy?"

Nick just glowered at him. Maybe Schanke wasn't as oblivious as he seemed.

"You know, I can't figure you out, Nick. I mean, sometimes it's Janette, sometimes it's Natalie...you know, you're not a college kid anymore. You can't keep stringing the two of them along. Sooner or later you've gotta pick one--"

No, not nearly as oblivious as he seemed. Why couldn't Schanke have uttered his words of wisdom two weeks ago, before Nick had made a mess of his life?

"You know, if you ask me--"

"I didn't," he replied mirthlessly.

"If you ask me," he continued, undaunted, "I think you should go for Natalie. I mean Janette's a hot little number, but Nat's really beautiful too."

*I know*, he agreed silently.

"--and smart. That's important." He paused, as if trying to emphasize its importance, then added, "Not to mention, she seems to be able to put up with you--"

Nick was silent. He couldn't be angry with Schanke. He had no way of knowing the real situation. But eventually, the message came through loud and clear. He didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up. I'm sorry. I just think you two belong together."

Nick threw him a glance, then looked away, not wanting to betray the sadness in his eyes.

*So do I, Schank. So do I.*

Janette had sensed his presence immediately, but it had been obvious that Nicolas wanted to be alone. So she'd waited patiently, perhaps more than two hours, watching as he'd downed glass after glass of blood.

Human blood.

Finally, she could wait no more. Perhaps he would deem it interference, or imagine that her intentions were selfish. But her concern for him at this moment outweighed all else.

He was in pain. And she couldn't bear to see that.

He barely seemed to notice as she slipped into the booth beside him, her arm coming to rest around his neck. "Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked gently.

When he looked at her, his eyes were ablaze with brilliant flecks of gold. "It's never enough, is it?"

"For you, yes," she said, taking the glass from his hand, and setting it down. "What happened, Nicolas? When I left you, you were at peace. You were going to try to make things work between you and Natalie. What would she say if she saw you like this?"

She'd expected her words to remind him of his goal. But his face was filled only with bitterness as he said, "Natalie wouldn't care."

"Oh, yes, she would," Janette assured him.

"Natalie has...how shall I put this? Moved on with her life," he said, his tone acrid. "She's found someone else, Janette."

Janette's eyes opened wide, and a slight smile creased her lips. "I *am* impressed."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he said sharply.

"It means that if that's the case, I have a lot more respect for her. Instead of letting you use her like a doormat, she's decided to go on with her life."

She knew she was being cruel. But he deserved it. How else to knock some sense into him? So, Natalie had found herself another man. Good for her! Yet something inside her still doubted the likelihood that Natalie could have forgotten Nicolas so quickly....

"I don't need to listen to this," he said, rising quickly, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat. "Nick, she's a mortal woman. With needs. Desires. And precious little time. I only meant that this could really be the best thing for her--"

"How could you say that when you know how I feel?" he retorted angrily. "I thought you said I should try to make it work--"

"I did. And with all my heart I wish it could be so, if that's what would make you happy. But the reality is, Nicolas, that nothing has changed since you met her three years ago. You have no more to offer her now than you did then. The time has been meaningless to you, as it is to all of us. But for a mortal woman, who sees her youth slipping away, three years is a long time to wait for someone who can offer no real commitment, no real future. If you truly love her, can you really stand in the way of her happiness?"

The anger had died from his eyes as her words had struck a chord in his heart. He knew that she was right. She reached out to touch his cheek, and he didn't pull away. "Nick, let her go if that's what she wants."

"I can't." He reached for the glass once more, emptying it in one shot.

"That's not the answer," she told him. "You don't want this."

"And I don't want to just stand by while some stranger takes advantage of her, maybe hurts her..."

"Do you even know who it is?" she asked.

He shook his head, as he motioned for Alma to bring him another bottle. "No. But I know that he..." he paused, as if unable to voice it, then quickly finished, "he spent the night in her house."

Janette's mouth dropped open. Natalie?! "How do you know?" she managed to ask.

"I called while he was there. But later, when I looked in her window, he was already gone--"

"You spied on her?"
"I was trying to protect her--"

She looked at him dubiously. "Protect her? From what? From some weak mortal? I know you too well. You went there out of pure jealousy. And she'd be horrified if she knew that you were watching her."

He looked as if he were going to try to deny it, but realized it would be useless. "I just can't stand the thought of her with someone else, Janette," he admitted.

Janette was pensive for a moment. "You know, Nick, Natalie doesn't seem like the type to jump into something like this. Are you sure this is a love interest? Perhaps just a friend?"

He seemed to consider it a moment, but dismissed it. "No. Her friend at work referred to him as her new boyfriend."

"Have you asked her about it?" she suggested.

He shook his head vigorously. "There's no use. She wouldn't even talk to me...."

"I don't know about that." How little men understood of women! "If she's truly over you, which I find highly unlikely, then she'll have no problem speaking to you. And, if she does still seem upset with you, then maybe this is just a reaction--a rebound. In any case, it can't hurt to get it out in the open." She saw him think about it, then glance at his watch. "Where is she now?" she asked.

"At work," he responded. "She leaves in about an hour."

"Then go to her, Nicolas. Talk to her, find out what's going on, before you let your imagination run away with you."

He nodded his agreement, and his face softened with his resolution. "Okay, just one question, 'Voice of Reason'," he said with the trace of an impish grin on his face. "What do I do if the guy's there to meet her, too?"

She reached over to give him a quick kiss on the lips, glad that she had gotten through to him. "Just try not to kill him," she admonished with innocent eyes and a teasing smile.

She watched him leave, satisfied that he was on the right track again. But oh, how the irony irked her! She was actually dissuading him from drinking blood, and encouraging him to pursue Natalie! Well, as long as no one else found out....

The truth was, that she still loved him deeply. But their last attempt at rekindling their relationship had unequivocally proven to her what her heart had always wished to deny--Nicolas was not hers anymore, and would never be. His desire to become human was no frivolous phase--it was his very life. And the moment he'd chosen that path, she had lost him.

As for Natalie, Janette had no doubt that this woman loved Nicolas as passionately as he loved her. LaCroix, Nick's vampirism, and she herself had gotten in their way. But Natalie was good for Nick--she could admit that now, even if she hadn't been able to in the past. And if Nicolas ever found his mortality again, Janette was confident that Natalie would love him, care for him, and fill the rest of his life with all the happiness he deserved.

How could Nick actually believe that Natalie had found another so quickly? Men could be so thick! And eight centuries had not improved Nicolas' sensitivity to women's needs, nor an understanding of how their minds worked.... Cest la vie.

The night had been tiresome, and dealing with Nicolas' depression too stressful. It was one of those rare occasions when the loud music had begun to irritate her, and she needed to escape. Telling Miklos where to find her, she left the dancefloor to head towards her private room. A little drink, some quiet...then she would be ready for the rest of the night, or what little was left of it.

But as she pushed the door open to find LaCroix seated at her desk, she knew that all hope of relaxation was lost. And as he glanced up at her with a faraway look in his eyes, she knew that something was wrong.

"What is it?" she asked, with the concern of a daughter. His skin was paler than usual, his eyes flecked with amber, as if the blood could not satisfy his need tonight. A half-empty bottle sat in front of him. And as he poured the last bit into his glass, she reached automatically into her portable bar to offer him another. "You don't look well, LaCroix," she said, kneeling beside him as he accepted the bottle. "Has something happened?"

"No. And I suppose I'm fortunate for that," he said mysteriously. Then, without looking at her, added, "I never knew how difficult it could be to control these urges. I never really tried. And now, when it's of utmost importance that I do, I'm not certain if I can."

"Why would you need to control them?" she asked, not understanding.

This time he turned to look into her eyes, and she listened intently, knowing it was so rare that he would expose himself thus to her, or to anyone.

"There's a woman. A mortal woman. I've become quite...taken with her." He smiled slightly, as if at the very thought of her, or perhaps at his own amazement over his feelings.

"And you don't want to take her?" she asked. "Make her one of us?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. That is not what she wants. And I will respect her wishes.

"Then what could come of it, LaCroix?" she dared, with a feeling of deja vu. Hadn't she had this conversation with Nick?

He sighed deeply, refilling his glass and taking a full sip. "I don't know. But I am drawn to her as I have been drawn to no one in eight hundred years."

"And you're finding it hard to control your hunger?"

He nodded, rising, his glass in hand. "I was at her house. We talked and talked, and then, when daylight came, she invited me to stay. What trust, Janette! To think that she slept peacefully, without fear that I would hurt her..."

A sick feeling had begun to settle over Janette. Spent the night? A mortal woman? "LaCroix--this woman wouldn't happen to be Nicolas' doctor friend, Natalie Lambert, would she?"

He looked at her in surprise, but said, "Yes."

Janette shook her head in disbelief. "LaCroix, how could you do this? You know that Nicolas is in love with her--"

"And so did you when you took him to your bed," he retorted sharply.

She ignored his comment. "You're doing this to hurt him."

"No, I am not," he replied evenly; and to her own astonishment, she believed him. There was a real sincerity in his tone, as he said, "She is a remarkable woman, Janette. I enjoy her company. It's as simple as that."

"But it's not simple," she reminded him. "How far do you think you can take this before your urge to feed from her becomes uncontrollable? And what do you think will happen when Nicolas finds out? He wants her back...."

LaCroix did not answer. Instead he finished the second bottle, grabbing a third to slip into his coat. A slight color had already begun to return to his features as the blood nourished him. "I must leave now," he told her. "With the renegade still in the city, it 's not safe for her to be going home alone. I promised I would meet her after work."

Janette's eyes opened wide as he thanked her for her hospitality, and left.

*He was going to the Coroner's Office*.

*So was Nicolas.*

With vampiric speed, Janette left the Raven, hoping it wouldn't be too late to stop the confrontation that was about to ensue. She didn't want to even think about what might happen if Nick got there before her. The results could be fatal. She just wasn't sure for whom.

Nick wasn't sure what he'd do if she weren't alone. If she were, they could talk. He'd contain his jealousy, his anger, and, if he handled things right this time, she might even let him take her home. A new start. That's all he wanted. And yet, as the taste of the blood he'd consumed tonight at the Raven still lingered in his mouth, he realized he'd made a pitiful start at turning over a new leaf. But if Nat were alone, if she would give him a chance, maybe, just maybe, he could find the impetus and the strength to change.

But if she weren't alone....

His entire body tensed at the thought, and he fought to control the purely emotional response that would ruin everything. Janette had to be right; Natalie couldn't possibly have plunged into another relationship so soon....

The hallway to her office was dimly lit, deserted. Yet as he strained his hearing to the limit, he could make out voices. Hers, pleasant, chatting away. And then....

No! It couldn't be. The fury rose into his throat, erupting in a vicious growl meant for only *him* to hear:

"Stay away from her, LaCroix!"

Natalie looked up in confusion as something caused LaCroix to cock his head to the side, then turn towards the door. But in a moment, everything was terribly clear as Nick burst in, his fangs extended, an ugly rage transforming his features. She gasped as Nick grabbed LaCroix by the shoulders, tossing him across the room. Glass tubes crashed to the floor, papers flew. And more quickly than her vision could follow, LaCroix was on his feet, lunging at Nick, shoving him into a gurney.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?!" Nick snarled, his eyes blood red with his fury. "If you've hurt her in any way--"

"Nicolas, no!" Janette cried, coming up behind him.

"Stay out of this, Janette!" he shouted, never taking his eyes from LaCroix.

*This can't be happening*, Natalie thought to herself in panic. She'd dreaded this moment, feared it. But now, all she could feel was rage. How dare he interfere in her life like this! And worse, much worse, how dare he bring *her* here....

The sight of Janette, her hand delicately placed on Nick's arm to restrain him, infuriated her. And as that image came up before her again, of Janette and Nick lying naked together in a union of blood and flesh, her heart rose up into her throat, nearly gagging her. So this was how he had changed? So this was how he had ended things with Janette?! She watched in blind fury as Nick and LaCroix circled one another, like two wild animals poised for attack.

"I am here at Natalie's invitation," LaCroix spat at Nick, his own eyes amber. "It is you who are intruding where you're not wanted."

"You lying bastard!" he growled, ready to strike.

"Nick, no!" This time, it was Natalie's voice that interrupted. And as Nick looked on in shock, she placed her hand on LaCroix's arm. "You too, LaCroix!" she commanded.

LaCroix obeyed, retreating from a stunned Nick and Janette.

"Natalie?" Nick asked, searching her eyes in disbelief.

"Nick, LaCroix is here because I asked him to be. I wanted him to be. And you had no right barging in here like that!"

Astonishment washed over his face, replaced almost at once by a new anger, as the full realization hit him. "You?" he hissed at LaCroix. "You're the one she's been spending time with?" He looked at Natalie desperately. "Nat, are you out of your mind? You know what he is!"

"Yes, I do," she responded defiantly. "And I know it's nothing like what you told me..."

"He's using you, Nat! He's doing this to get to me!"

LaCroix shook his head, almost in amusement. "Nicholas, if you truly believe that, then you've underestimated this young woman greatly. I assure you this has nothing to do with you--"

"You're doing this to hurt me, Nat," he accused, his face filled with pain.

"Why do you always have to think everything revolves around you?!" she cried angrily, refusing to have any guilt placed on her in this situation. "Do you find it so hard to believe that another man might enjoy spending time with me?"

"No, Natalie," LaCroix broke in. "He just can't accept that you've found there's 'life after Nicholas'."

"Well, there is," she said, her glare fixed on Nick. "And you have no right to interfere in my life anymore."

"Natalie," he said, stepping towards her, trying a calmer approach. "Listen to me. I know him. He's doing this to come between us!"

"You can stand there with *her* and talk to me about *us*? Nick, there is no *us* to come between," she reminded him harshly. "You saw to that. And so did she," she added, motioning to Janette. "So there's nothing between us now. No romance. No friendship. Nothing."

It was an effort now to look into his eyes, so filled with the anguish of what he perceived to be the ultimate betrayal. She knew that if he didn't leave soon, she would burst into tears. But she couldn't. Not in front of him. Not in front of *them*. It irked her enough to know that all three of them could hear the pounding of her heart, quickening even now as he moved closer to her.

"Nat, you can't mean that," he began, reaching out for her.

She recoiled from him. She couldn't let him touch her. She couldn't let him see just how his touch, his gaze, could still move her. Then he'd know just how difficult this was, and know the turmoil in her soul. "I want you to leave me alone," she said, measuring every word. "Just let me try to forget about the last three and a half years, and go on with my life!"

"I won't leave you alone with him," he growled.

"Nicolas, he won't hurt her," Janette told him, moving up beside him. "Maybe it would be best if we left."

Janette's willingness to take him away served only to fuel Natalie's anger. And despite her best efforts to contain her resentment, she found herself saying, "Yes, Nick, and if you're having trouble with all this, I'm sure Janette will be more than happy to comfort you."

"That's not fair, Natalie," Janette broke in.

"No," Natalie agreed bitterly, looking at her for the first time. "But then, neither is what you did to us."

Nick looked deeply into her eyes, as if searching for some vestige of her love for him. She would give him none. She couldn't. She'd worked too hard to obscure it from him, from herself. Finally, he stepped back, as if ready to withdraw, defeat on his face. But as his eyes met LaCroix's, he exuded only hatred.

"I won't let you hurt her," he told LaCroix. "As long as I live I will protect her from you. And if any harm comes to her--I *will* kill you."

It was a statement of fact, more than a threat. LaCroix merely looked at him unperturbed. "I would never harm her," he responded, caressing her hair purposely to watch Nick seethe. Natalie knew what he was doing; feeling suddenly uncomfortable, she stepped away from him, looking into Nick's eyes.

"I really want you to go," she said steadily, trying not to let her voice break with her heart. "And unless it's police business, I don't want you to come back."

"Come, Nicolas," Janette urged, practically tugging at his coat sleeve.

And as he reluctantly left the room, Natalie could feel him drawing a part of her with him.

The tears rose to her eyes as LaCroix came up behind her to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Shall I take you home now, Natalie?" he asked gently.

She nodded silently without looking at him.

This was all wrong. In her soul, she knew. Nick leaving with Janette, and LaCroix her only comfort, her only companion....

How had they ever come to this?

How would she ever set it all right again?

They'd hardly spoken at all on the car ride back to her apartment. LaCroix had offered to drive, and she'd let him, sinking into the seat, her head pressed uncomfortably against the passenger window. She was distancing herself from him, from everyone, burying herself in her own thoughts. She'd barely noticed that the car had stopped when he reached over to place his hand on hers. "Natalie, we're home."

She turned to him, to his face filled with concern for her, and smiled weakly. "Not bad driving for a guy who probably doesn't even have a license."

"Oh, I believe I had one in the 1960's--but it expired over twenty years ago," he replied, apparently relieved that her sense of humor was intact. He stepped out of the car, coming around to hold the door for her, taking her hand as he walked her inside.

Divia knew what was coming. And it fascinated her, just as the whole situation had from the moment she'd found them in Toronto. Tonight, she'd followed her father to the Coroner's Office, where she'd heard the hostilities between LaCroix and Nicholas come to a head. She'd expected a battle; Natalie's power to control the both of them was impressive. She'd heard the mortal woman reject Nicholas, and had followed as LaCroix had driven her home. But she knew her father--her childe--too well. He'd restrained himself last night; could he truly keep from taking her blood tonight? Divia doubted it. And for all her strength, the woman seemed to be wearing down. Too distraught over Nicholas, would she be able to resist LaCroix?

Divia wasn't sure. But it would be interesting to watch....

He'd driven her back to the Raven without a word, following her inside, then heading straight to his favorite table. Helplessly, Janette watched as he motioned for the waitress to bring him a bottle. His eyes were deep amber, his expression a mask of anger. Even after the first bottle had been emptied, his facade remained unchanged. And still he asked for more.

"Nicolas," she said quietly, coming finally to sit beside him. "You don't need this."

He turned to face her, acknowledging her for the first time in two hours. "Yes, I do," he replied in a voice lower than his own.

"You're only giving in to what he wants," she reminded him, hoping that that alone would be enough to make him stop.

"No, Janette," he told her, an evil gleam in his eye. "I'm making myself stronger. Because I'm going to have to fight him now. I'm going to have to kill him."

"Nick, you can't! Are you out of your mind? You tried once.

He's much too old and powerful. He can't be destroyed--"

"Oh, I'll find a way," he assured her.

"Nicolas, this is foolishness--"

"Oh, really?"

"I know you care about Natalie--" she began.

"I *love* her, Janette. And right now she's with him. At any moment he might kill her--or bring her across. Do you think I can rest until she's safe?"

"There's nothing you can do. She chooses to be with him--"

He shook his head in frustration. "She doesn't understand. She doesn't know what he's capable of."

"She's not stupid, Nicolas."

"No. She's very brave. And, Natalie always sees the good in everyone. In me. Even in LaCroix."

"There is good in him, Nick. And he really is taken with her. I don't think you have to worry. He doesn't want to hurt her."

"But he might anyway," he responded, and she could not argue. LaCroix had never *bothered* to worry about letting his hunger get out of control. She remembered LaCroix's words--that he was finding it hard to contain his desires--and she shivered. Was that why he had drunk so much tonight? To have his fill?

"But he said he would never bring her over--because that's not what she wants," she said aloud, although trying to convince herself more that Nick.

He looked at her. "He told you this?"

"Only right after you left. He came here upset, preoccupied. When I realized the woman he was talking about was Natalie, and that he was going there tonight to meet her, I went to try to stop the two of you from fighting."

He gave her a wan smile in spite of himself. "Always trying to keep the peace between us."

"No. Just trying to keep you both alive. Although perhaps as far as you and Natalie are concerned, I did more harm than good. She probably thinks we're still together." She paused. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged it off. "It's all right. You were trying to help. And I appreciate it. But I want you to stay out of this now, Janette. It's between me and him." He rose to leave.

And as Janette watched him go, a real fear gripped her. He was a loose cannon now, and LaCroix could set him off with the slightest wrong move. And as usual, when it came to their eternal conflict, Janette felt totally useless. Nicolas had his own mind, and no one could control LaCroix.

The only one who had been able to was long gone.

But there was something she could do. And though it would mean putting herself at great risk of incurring LaCroix's wrath, she owed it to Nicolas. She had betrayed him too often out of fear of LaCroix. Now, when Nick needed her most, she would not let him down. For if Natalie were to die, or be brought across, it would destroy him.

Janette was not about to let that happen.

She poured herself a drink, knowing the wine would calm her nerves. She needed to relax, to pull herself together, to repress the emotions that were raging within her. And most of all, she had to maintain her control in front of *him*. She wouldn't break down in front of LaCroix. For as much as she'd grown to like him, to trust him, an inner voice kept warning her not to reveal any weakness to him.

She'd had a hell of a job trying to do that lately.

But he was so damned compassionate and understanding! This wasn't the LaCroix Nick had described to her. Had Nick never seen this side of him? Or was she the most gullible fool alive, the victim of LaCroix's deception?

She didn't want to believe the latter. She needed him to be there for her. There was no one else. And as he came up behind her at the bar, resting his hands on her shoulders, she knew just how desperately she needed his comfort. His fingers began to massage her in artful strokes, and she could feel the tension rolling away. She breathed deeply, stretching her neck forward as he found her tightest spots. "That feels so good," she said softly. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry that tonight had to be so difficult for you," he said with real regret in his voice.

"Oh, it's not your fault," she said wearily, enjoying his touch more than she wanted to admit. "Just do me one favor; the next time you decide to have a family reunion, please don't invite me."

He turned her around to face him, taking her wine glass and setting it down. There was wonder in his eyes as he smiled slightly at her joke. "Your ability to find humor in all this amazes me."

"Well, I guess laughing is a lot better than crying, isn't it?" she replied.

His fingers were playing with the hair that fell loosely about her neck, and as his cool hands began to caress her skin, the waves of heat emanating from them made her shiver.

LaCroix seemed to misinterpret the flutter of her heart. "Don't be afraid," he said softly, moving his hands up to her face, as if he thought that might be less threatening.

"I'm not," she answered honestly. "At least not of you."

He moved closer to her, as if he knew suddenly she wouldn't fear him doing so. "Then of what?" he asked, turning her face upwards so that she could look into his eyes.

"Of this..." she responded simply, almost in a hushed whisper.

"I only wish to make you forget about Nicholas, and all the pain he has caused you."

He had no way of knowing that Nick was far from her thoughts at this moment. But still, LaCroix's way of making her forget was not an option. "We've been through this," she breathed, trying not to react to the waves of arousal that his touch was sending through her. "No hypnotism..."

"No," he promised. "That's not what I had in mind..."

And as his lips crushed against hers, she knew that this had been inevitable. Since the night in Azure, she had known that there was a sexual tension between them that would have to be reckoned with. The night he had spent in her apartment had confirmed it, as they'd responded to each other's pain, reaching out with the emotional support that both had needed so desperately for so very long. Now, as he drew her into his arms, she laced her own around his neck, kissing him hungrily, wanting nothing more than to surrender to her own physical and emotional needs.

"I won't hurt you, Natalie," he whispered in her ear. "I am older than Nicholas--and I know how to control my hunger to bring you more pleasure than he ever could. But only if you wish it."

Could this be real? Could she trust him?

She did. She had to. She needed him too much, wanted him too much....

She reached for his lips once more.

He’d lifted her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her into the bedroom. Now, as they lay in each other’s embrace, Natalie knew she could hide nothing from him. She knew that he could hear the pounding of her heart, feel the urgency of her kiss. She wanted him, and the thought both terrified and excited her.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered again, sensing her fear. “I won’t hurt you.”

Was he trying to convince her, or himself? At this moment, it didn’t matter. All that existed were the cool fingers brushing against her skin, the cool lips that belied the heat of his kiss. Even through their clothes, Natalie could feel his arousal urgently attempting to meet her own, as their bodies pressed together. How long had it been since she’d felt this way, been so close to someone, so near to the intimacy that had been lacking from her life? His hands found their way below her blouse, caressing her masterfully, his contact with her bare flesh sending waves of desire through her entire being. How long had it been....?

The answer came to her in a jolt. *Valentine’s Day.* But then it had been Nick’s lips searching out her own, Nick’s hands exploring her with wonder.... So close to fulfilling each other before the beast had begun to emerge....

A sudden sadness overwhelmed her. She needed LaCroix. She needed *this*. But she still *wanted* Nick, still *loved* him. Would it ever stop? Would she ever be free of it....?

She tried to ignore it, concentrate on LaCroix, as his mouth moved downward to taste her flesh, and his hands continued on their journey, seeking new ways to pleasure her. It would be so easy to lose herself to him, give in to the thrill of this moment, give into the almost painful desire to meld with him....

LaCroix looked up suddenly, and into her eyes. She could see the gold flecks of his desire, and yet knew that his passion came from the man, not the vampire. And it was the man within him, the sensitive being, who gazed at her now, with a concern almost equal to his longing for her. “What is it, Natalie?” he asked tenderly.

“Nothing,” she attempted the lie, knowing it would fail to convince him.

He shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. “You’re not ready for this, are you?”

She could feel the tears of frustration rising to her eyes. “I want to forget him. I just--”

He silenced her with a sudden kiss that took her breath away. When he separated from her, she knew that he had meant that kiss to be his last tonight.

“LaCroix, I care about you. I want to be with you. But--”

“You still love Nicholas,” he finished for her with a bittersweet smile. “I know that. I wanted to make you forget. But the endurance of your love, your loyalty, is one of your most desirable qualities. You would have regretted betraying him--betraying yourself. I know that now.”

She knew he was right, and hated herself for it. “I want to be free of him. I want to go on with my life,” she said, trying to choke back the emotion.

“You will be,” he told her, stroking her hair affectionately. “In time. And time, my sweet Natalie, is about the only thing I do have.”

He rose from the bed. And as she knew he meant to leave, she stood to face him, reaching up to put her hands on his face. “LaCroix, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “And...I don’t want this to be the end between us.”

He placed his hands over hers. “No. It’s only the beginning.”

He kissed her once more before vanishing into the night.

Natalie collapsed back on the bed, all emotion spent. And only now that he was gone could she think clearly, and know that he had been right. She would have regretted making love to him. For as soon as the thrill of it had gone, Nick would still be there, in her heart, in her mind, in her desires. And as much as she loved him, she hated him for his hold on her. He’d thought nothing of betraying her...and yet his very memory stood in the way of her going on with her life.

If only being with LaCroix could have pushed all thoughts of Nick from her mind!

But it wouldn’t have. She knew that now. And she knew that the time had come to make a decision, one way or the other.

Divia watched him leave, barely able to contain her laughter. How weak his love for this woman had made him! The Lucius she had known, the father she had loved and emulated, would have had his way with this woman, then tossed her aside. The LaCroix she had known would have climaxed by draining her blood. What power this woman had over both Nicholas and LaCroix!

What an ideal weapon to use against them both....

The crowd at the Raven had begun to dissipate, with dawn just three hours away. LaCroix ignored those giving him a passing nod of respect as he made his way to the bar. Miklos spotted him at once, and poured him a glass of human blood. LaCroix downed it instantly, and held out his glass as Miklos refilled it.

Why wasn’t it assuaging his hunger? What was happening to him?

But he knew. In his heart, so cold until she had warmed it, he knew. It was more than vampiric hunger which tormented him now.

He wanted Natalie. And he would not be satisfied until he had her.

How close he had come to possessing her! But the time wasn’t right. He would not take her unless she desired it. And as long as she loved Nicholas, she would desire no one else.

The fool that Nicholas was! To have had her heart, and betrayed her! The pure waste of it infuriated him.

But a part of him was glad that he had not made love to her. For his nightmare still lingered in his mind. And though he knew control, the control that Divia herself had taught him, he had never feared so much that he would be unable to stop. And the thought of destroying her was abhorrent to him right now.

But if she would let him bring her over....

He forced the secret wish from his mind. For it was only that. He could no more destroy her purity, her humanity, than Nicholas could.

He barely felt Janette come up behind him. “Are you all right?” she was asking. “You’re so pale....”

He looked at her¸ her face filled with concern. “Nothing that more of this won’t cure,” he replied dully, raising his glass for Miklos to refill.

There was still a question in her eyes, and he decided to answer it. “She is unharmed, Janette. You needn’t be concerned.”

“But I am, LaCroix,” she dared. “This is foolishness. Where can it lead? And if you do kill her, it will destroy Nicolas. Just knowing that you’re with her is tearing him apart.”

“Why, Janette... I thought you’d be thrilled to have Natalie occupied. You can have Nicholas all to yourself,” he taunted her, as he turned his attention back to his drink.

He knew she was fuming as she replied sharply, “I won’t waste my time on someone who is in love with another. It’s foolishness. Wouldn’t you agree, LaCroix?”

He glared at her, and felt satisfaction as he saw a touch of fear cross her eyes. But he merely responded, “I will not hurt her, Janette. But this has nothing to do with Nicholas. Or you. The real foolishness would be to interfere in my affairs. Wouldn’t *you* agree?”

Janette was silent. She knew better than to press further.

“Miklos! A bottle!” he growled. And taking it in his hand, he left.

It had been useless to even try to sleep. Her mind was racing with thoughts of LaCroix, of Nick....of what she had almost done. And though her body still ached for the contact, she could feel only relief that they had not consummated their relationship. She’d wanted it, almost given into it...but attraction, need, even the affection she felt for him, were not enough. She didn’t love him.

If she made love to LaCroix, Nick would consider it the ultimate betrayal. And it would be, she knew. She would not hurt him like that, betray him, for a night of passion.

Even though that was precisely what Nick had done to her.

The irony of it enraged her! A part of her wished she could hurt him, make him feel the anguish that he had inflicted upon her. Yet, a need for revenge had never been a part of her makeup. And she knew now that her love for him would not just go away, no matter how much she wished it would.

She thought of him now, remembering the pain and fury in his eyes. She’d had every right to be cruel to him--but she knew she’d let her anger make her say things she now regretted.

Where had he gone? Where was he now?

The thought that he might be with Janette had been nagging at her all night, and only now did she address it. Could she really blame him if he was? Hadn’t she cut him off completely, rejected him, made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him?

In essence, she’d handed him to Janette on a platter.

There was only one way to know. To cure herself of him completely, or know if it was her destiny to be with him.

She grabbed her bag and car keys. Maybe this was crazy. But all caution had already been thrown to the wind. Besides, the night couldn’t get any stranger than it already had....

The lights were off in her apartment, and he stood for a moment wondering what he should do. Why had he come here? Why was he torturing himself?

Because he had to know. He had to see for himself. And if what he suspected were true, if LaCroix were here with her....

Just the thought sent a stabbing pain through his stomach. Nick knew very well what he would do. He would kill him. Without thinking. Without mercy. LaCroix would die for daring to touch her.

He lifted himself to her bedroom window, barely breathing as he looked inside.

She wasn’t there. But his relief at not finding her with LaCroix was immediately overshadowed by worry. Where was she?

There was no heartbeat, no scent of her. The apartment was empty, save for her cat. Sydney watched him, nonplused, as he searched the apartment for some clue....

But there was none. And panic began to set in....

She’d sat outside the warehouse for ten minutes, watching at his windows for a sign of life. But there was none. Finally, she’d rung the door buzzer, although she had no idea what she’d say if he were home. But she was spared the awkwardness of the situation.

He wasn’t there.

“Oh well, he must be with Janette”, she said aloud to no one but herself.

Now she truly didn’t know what to do. And as she drove home, blinking to keep back the tears, she promised herself that she would never put herself through this again.

He’d gone to the Raven. No sign of LaCroix. And Janette had tried to reassure him that the last she’d heard, Natalie was safely at home.

“She’s not,” he insisted, panic-stricken. “And I want to know where to find LaCroix.”

“Nick, I don’t know,” she said, trying to calm him. “But I really don’t think you have anything to worry--”

The ringing of his cellular phone cut her off. He pulled it out anxiously. “Knight,” he answered.

“*Nick, it’s Schanke. There’s been another one on the University Campus. Pretty gruesome. Captain wants you to meet us down there.*”

He took a deep breath. “Look, Schank, I’ve got a personal emergency here--”

“*What the hell’s going on with everybody tonight? Natalie didn’t want to come in either--*”

His mouth dropped open. “Wait, she’s there?”

“*On her way. Look, Nick, if it’s really important--*”

“No. It’s okay,” Nick cut him off. “I’ll be right there.”

He put away the phone, looking up at Janette. “She’s okay.”

“I told you not to worry,” she said, although relief had seemed to wash over her face as well. “Nicolas, you can’t do this to yourself. You can’t know where she is every minute.”

“I have to.” Why wasn’t clear to her that Natalie was in danger?

“Nick, she wants to spend time with him. It’s her choice,” she tried tactfully to remind him.

His expression grew even darker than it had been. “No,” he told her adamantly. “It’s him. He knows she’s upset... He’s taking advantage of her, to get to me.”

Janette was silent, and he knew that it meant she disagreed with him, but wouldn’t press it further.

“Janette, you don’t know her. She wouldn’t betray me like that. Not Natalie.”

“She’s a woman, Nicolas. With feelings...needs. LaCroix can be very charming--”

“There’s been another murder,” he broke in, deliberately changing the subject. “Has there been any word?”

She shook her head, knowing she’d pushed him too far. “No. No one has heard anything.”

“I’ll let you know what I find out. And Janette, if you do see LaCroix, tell him I want to speak to him.”

He left before giving her time to respond.

The body was like all the others. A boy, really, probably no more than nineteen, with the tell-tale wounds that she had found and quickly hidden under the collar of his shirt. Another victim. What kind of monster could do this? Destroy a life that had barely just begun....?

His hand on her shoulder startled her, and she stood up too quickly.

“Sorry, I...”

His voice trailed off as they looked into each other’s eyes. Searching....

“It’s the same as the others,” she said quietly, breaking the eye contact. “Death occurred probably 24 hours ago. I don’t know how many more of these I can--”

“Nat.”

She looked into his eyes once more. Damn his power over her!

His ability to turn her love into hatred, then rip her emotions from her yet again...to find the last vestiges of her love for him, hidden under the careful veneer which her anger had created. Just with a touch, a glance....those blue eyes...his rage now abated, replaced with the concern that made him so endearing....

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She wouldn’t let him do it so easily. She wouldn’t let him control her. “Why shouldn’t I be?” she asked coolly, forcing the wall up between them once more.

“LaCroix. I thought--” He was at a loss for words.

“You thought wrong,” she replied, turning back to her work.

She knew he was watching her. Let him. Was this to ease his guilty conscience? Did this feeble attempt to protect her from LaCroix--after the fact--somehow alleviate his guilt over having been with Janette? “So, did she know anything?” she asked, knowing damn well it was out of spite.

“What?” He had no clue.

“Janette,” she said, turning back to him. “That’s where you were, isn’t it? The Raven?”

She could see the anger rising, and knew that she had been right. Had there really been the slimmest hope that she would be wrong? It didn’t matter. He *had* been with Janette. And the longing for him, the desire to bury the past, slipped deeper into the recesses of her heart. He wouldn’t change. Nothing had changed, nor would it ever. She turned away from him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn to him.

“I don’t think where *I* was tonight is the issue,” he said in a hushed whisper, knowing that he’d probably already drawn attention.

“No, it’s not,” she said angrily. “Because I don’t care. And wherever *I* was is none of your business either!” With that she pulled away from him, glad that Schanke and the others were approaching. And as she settled behind the wheel of her car, she could see him...surrounded by others, yet watching her, his face a mask of silent rage.

*He was at my apartment*, she thought to herself. *He knows I wasn’t there.* What else had he seen?

She didn’t want to think about it. Whatever he had seen, however it had hurt him....

She didn’t care. Not anymore. He deserved it.

He sat alone on the grass, a myriad of dark emotions flowing through his soul. The others had long gone, and he knew by the slight pink tinge that had emerged at the horizon, that he should be on his way. But he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to.

She had been with LaCroix. While he had gone out of his mind with worry, she had been with *him*. And Janette was right. He wasn’t controlling her. He wasn’t taking advantage of her....

She *wanted* to be with him.

She knew what he was. She knew what he was capable of. And she knew how LaCroix had tortured him, tormented him through the centuries. His father. His maker.

His enemy.

Yet she chose to be with him.

The thought was unbearable. She could not, *could never*, betray him like this.

Yet she had. And no betrayal had ever wounded him so deeply.

So many times he’d accused her of such; of using him, of trying to control him--but in his heart, he had always known it was his own pain, his own darker side, making him say things he did not truly believe. He had trusted her as no other. And now...

He didn’t think he could trust anyone ever again.

“My poor Nicholas.”

The voice had come from nowhere, stirring him from his self-pity. But as soon as he registered the source, her soft tones that he could never forget, she was before him. The same ancient eyes, the same youthful beauty. The same incomparable evil.

“Divia,” he whispered.

He stood in utter shock to see the ancient vampire, who still looked no more than a girl of thirteen. And suddenly, the pieces fell into place. “You...so you’re the one behind all this,” he accused.

She smiled sweetly, reaching up to put her arms around his neck. “Really, Nicholas, is that any way to greet me after six hundred years?”

He pushed her away roughly. “You murdered innocent young men...children...”

“And you never killed to survive?” she asked innocently.

“There are other means now. You know that--”

“Oh, yes. I believe your harlot friend does supply bottled blood to the community--although I hardly think she’d want to see *me* step through her door.”

He shook his head. Still jealous of Janette, wasn’t she? “You can’t go on killing mortals like this. The community will not allow it. Nor will the Enforcers.” He stepped closer to her. “Nor will I.”

“I only wished to get your attention,” she said coyly. “And I have, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you *have*,” he said in disgust, amazed that she still functioned on the level of a child. An evil, powerful child. “So then you can stop it, *now!*”

“If you wish,” she said, with as much boredom as if he had asked her to extinguish a cigarette. Again, those innocent eyes. It sickened him. “Perhaps you can put in a good word for me with Janette, then? I suppose I will need blood.” Her fingers went to his neck as she pressed her body against his seductively. “Unless you’re willing to...share?”

He pulled her off, and the smile faded from her face, replaced by a look of contempt. “Still so self-righteous, aren’t we? After all these centuries. And still treating me as if I were a child. I have had thousands of men in my lifetime,” she boasted. Then, when he failed to react, she added, “And you, Nicholas...have you learned yet how to make love to a woman without taking her blood?”

He didn’t answer. But he knew by the cruel smile that crossed her lips that she could see his rage building.

“I didn’t think so,” she said dully, then added, “I suppose that’s why your little mortal friend has turned to LaCroix. He does, after all, know how to pleasure a woman. I taught him that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, a little too defensively.

“Oh, I’ve seen them together. My father, and your little Natalie. Only last night they were in her apartment...*making love*...” Her eyes lit up with amusement. “It was rather sweet, actually. The poor thing must have been very frustrated with your inability to pleasure her...you should have seen the passion between them!”

“Stop it!” he cried, grabbing her by the arms.

He’d almost forgotten her strength until she freed herself easily from his grip. But when she met his eyes, it was only with compassion that she responded.

“I know you’re hurt, Nicholas,” she said, reaching up to his cheek to caress it. “You loved her, and she betrayed you. So did he, by taking her. But *I’m* here for you. I always have been--”

“You’re lying,” he growled, grabbing her by the wrist.

“No, Nicholas. I’m the only one who *is* honest with you--”

“You forget how well I know you, Divia!” he said, releasing her.

This time, her displeasure was evident. “You’ll see, Nicholas. I am right. She has betrayed you with him.”

“Never,” he spat at her with certainty. But as he rose into the air, leaving her behind, he could feel his eyes burning deep amber. And the doubt she had planted in his mind was sufficient to ignite a flame of fury that would blaze within him until he knew the truth.

The sun had barely set when Natalie heard her doorbell chime. She smiled to herself, wondering if it was LaCroix--he had learned this mortal convention quite easily. But her smile faded as she opened the door to find Janette standing in the hallway.

“Natalie. May I come in?” Her voice was cordial, her expression emotionless. Dressed in a fine black silk dress, with dark sunglasses and a leather jacket with fur trim, she seemed quite out of place here. Yet in her sweats and T-shirt, Natalie was the one who felt awkward, self-conscious. But then again, who was here to compare them?

“Sure. Come in,” Natalie responded, stepping aside and motioning for her to sit down.

She couldn’t help but notice Janette giving the apartment a once-over, but the vampire merely said, “Very nice. Very...homey.”

“I’m sure you didn’t come here to get a tour of my apartment,” Natalie said tersely, wanting her to get to the point of her visit.

“All right,” Janette said, taking off her sunglasses and setting them in her lap. “You know this isn’t a social call. I’ve come to talk to you about Nicolas.”

Natalie averted her gaze, although she knew even this gesture was telling. And she wished she could hide the hurt in her voice as she said, “Look, there’s nothing to talk about. You wanted him. You’ve got him. Period.”

“Natalie, please.” Her tone was kind.

Natalie looked back at her, responding to a seeming sincerity she hadn’t expected. She sat down across from her. “Janette, there’s nothing for us to talk about.”

“Yes, there is. I know how much you were hurt by what you saw that night in the club--”

“Do you really?” she asked dubiously.

“Yes. I may not be mortal. But I am a woman. I can love...and I can suffer. And I have done both where he is concerned, at one time or another.”

Natalie shook her head ruefully. “He’s yours now, Janette. So you have nothing to worry about.” She paused. “I just hope that if he ever decides he wants to become human again...that you’ll respect that, and not stop him.”

“He has never stopped wanting to be human...or loving you.”

“Oh, please--” Did Janette think her a fool?

“I’m serious. Natalie, I know you’re angry. And in pain. Hate *me*, if you must. But don’t hate Nick. He loves you deeply.”

“I...don’t hate you, Janette,” she responded honestly. “Nick knew what he was doing.”

She sighed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But he does know it was a mistake. Just as I do. Our time together is over, and was a long time ago.”

“Come on, Janette. I can’t believe that. He was with you last night.” Even saying it aloud brought back the pain. As if it ever left her.

Janette’s eyes opened wide. “Is that what you think? Natalie, he came to the Raven last night looking for you--”

She had to keep from laughing nervously as she said, “Oh, yeah, I go there all the time--”

“He thought you were with LaCroix,” she supplied quickly.

Natalie became sober. “I...I was. For a while. But he left my apartment around two or three.”

“Nick came looking for you. You weren’t home.”

She took a deep breath. “I went to his place looking for him.” She didn’t know why she admitted this to Janette, but it just seemed right at the moment.

“And that’s when you thought he was with me?”

She nodded, feeling almost silly.

“Natalie, he loves you very much. And he is going insane with worry over your spending time with LaCroix.”

“I’m not doing it to hurt him--or to spite him, as he thinks. I enjoy spending time with LaCroix. I need---”

“You need the friendship. The attention. Oh, Natalie, I know better than anyone that LaCroix can be quite charming... attractive... when he wants to be.” And Natalie could see from the sorrow in her eyes that she had probably fallen prey to LaCroix’s charisma herself. “But there’s another side of him you haven’t seen. He can be very dangerous if he feels he’s been betrayed. He could kill you in an instant--”

“And what would he say if he knew you were telling me this?”

she asked. It wasn’t a challenge. She wanted to know.

“He’d be angry. He‘d find some way to punish me. But you won’t tell him. Because you know I’m here for your sake...and for Nick’s.”

Natalie nodded, knowing what a precarious position Janette was placing herself in. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Janette bowed her head slighlty, as if in thanks, then brought the conversation back to the situation at hand. “Do you know that Nick is drinking blood again? Human blood?” she stressed, examining Natalie’s eyes for a response.

It tore at her heartstrings to hear this. But she merely said, “I couldn’t stop him before, Janette.”

“Don’t act like you don’t care, Natalie,” she admonished. “I know you do.”

“Of course I do! But what can I do about it!? He’s taken steps backwards before--and he doesn’t listen to me,” she said helplessly.

“Yes he does,” she countered. “More so than to anyone. And this is more than backsliding. He’s doing it to make himself stronger, Natalie. He’s getting ready to fight LaCroix. He’s prepared to kill him if he does anything to hurt you. Don’t you understand? Even at his full strength, he could never defeat LaCroix. And it *will* come down to a battle this time, Natalie. A battle over you.”

“No.” She refused to believe it, despite the real worry on Janette’s face. “Janette, things are over between me and Nick--”

“Are you saying you don’t love him anymore?” she challenged.

Natalie looked hard at her. “Of course I love him.” She paused, seeing Janette’s desperation. This had to be difficult for her, Natalie knew. Her voice softened as she said, “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know that was true.”

“I *do* know. But he doesn’t. So talk to him, Natalie. Tell him. He’s frantic right now. He needs to know that he hasn’t lost you.”

“It’s not that simple, Janette. He may love me--or think he does--but he doesn’t trust me. There are so many things he’s kept back from me...” She hated to admit it, but there seemed to be no secrets between her and Janette just now. “You’re the only one he feels he can confide in.”

“Natalie, he’s afraid. He doesn’t want to frighten you away. Make him talk to you--and let him see that you won’t run away.”

She shook her head in doubt. “You make it all seem so simple. I wish I could even be that sure that it’s really me he loves--and not just my mortality--what I represent to him.” Her worst fear. Yet she had to voice it. Perhaps only Janette could tell her if it was warranted or not.

“Natalie,” Janette said in a confidential tone. “Has Nicolas ever told you what it’s like to share blood with another?”

“No,” she said softly, knowing this was an intimacy Janette had shared with him that she never could. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know, but was curious nonetheless.

“You can feel the other’s thoughts...his soul, if you like. When I tasted Nicolas’ blood, I felt everything....his regret...his guilt...his love for you. And while I admit that that was the last thing I wanted to accept...it was there. I assure you.” She stood to leave, replacing her sunglasses lest her eyes betray too much of her own pain.

Natalie stood quickly. “Janette...I want to thank you. I know...this is awkward...”

“I love him too, Natalie,” the other woman affirmed sadly. “And I want him to be happy. But I know the only way he will find happiness is with you.”

Natalie nodded her understanding. “Thank you,” she said again, her words heart-felt.

Janette returned her nod and left.

Nick tossed restlessly, burying his head in the satin pillow that was already drenched in his own blood sweat. For hours he’d willed sleep to come, the warm darkness where pain and betrayal could be forgotten, if only until they wove themselves into his troubled dreams. Yet he knew that there would be no rest for him today, no escape.

Divia had seen to that.

He’d left her in anger, confusion, unwilling to accept what she had told him. Yet now he wished he had stayed, pressed her further, until she had either presented him with proof of her outlandish accusations, or admitted that she had been lying. Natalie and LaCroix? *Making love?*

No. Natalie would not betray him like that!

His rage had manifested itself in an insatiable hunger, and the blood passed more easily through his lips than it had in decades; the more he consumed, the greater became his need. But the doubts that he had tried so desperately to drown, would not be quelled. Instead, they found a companion in his fury, the irrational madness that threatened at any moment to emerge with his rejuvenated beast. The mortal in him cried out for reason; but the vampire demanded retribution. If Divia were right, then his worst fears had come to pass. Betrayal, by the one whom he had entrusted with his life, his heart....

...and whatever soul was left to reclaim.

Now, as he lay motionless in the darkened room, he fought to convince himself that it just could not be. But Divia had touched a fear so deep within him, that it nearly incapacitated him. It could not be true.

But if it were....

He had to know.

His inner sense told him that the sun had begun to sink below the horizon. Abandoning any hope of rest, he rose quickly, showered, dressed, and drank down yet another bottle of blood. It had become his solace, and now would have to be his strength. For when he faced LaCroix tonight, his fears would be denied or confirmed. And that would determine his next move.

For tonight, LaCroix would either live or die.

She showered and dressed for work, but her mind was still on her conversation with Janette. It had taken a lot for the other woman to come here. For that, Natalie had to respect her. It couldn’t have been easy for Janette to face her, to tell her in no uncertain terms that she knew that Nick’s heart lay with Natalie, and not herself. An admission of defeat, in a way. Or perhaps a realization, finally, that the life Nick wanted for himself was more important than the world she had wanted to keep him in. In any case, Natalie had no doubt that Janette had been honest with her--not merely because she wished it to be so, but because the sincerity had been there. Janette loved Nick; but she was letting him go.

Nick. Her heart beat more quickly as she thought of him. The anguish he had caused her was still there, and quite possibly always would be. But so would her love for him. She knew that now. Just as she knew that she wasn’t ready to give up on him. There had been enough hurting; it was time to heal. And unless they found the way together, they would both carry the open wounds of their loss for the rest of their lives.

She reached for the phone, barely able to breathe as she prayed the machine wouldn’t pick up.

“Yeah, Knight here.”

So cold, so lifeless.

“Nick? It’s me, Nat.”

A pause. Too long a pause.

“What can I do for you?”

Crisp. Official. Cold.

“Nick, I’m sorry about before. And I...I think we should talk.”

Another moment. “You mean about the case?”

He knew damn well what she meant! Or did he really need to hear her say it? Okay. She would.

“No. About...us.”

“I didn’t think there was anything left to talk about.” Too quick, too brusque. Although she could detect a note of surprise in his voice.

“There *is*...if you want there to be.”

“Do *you*, Nat?” He wasn’t hiding the emotion in his voice now.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Okay.” Did she hear relief?

“Um, I have to go to work, but there won’t be anyone else there. Can you meet me in about an hour and a half? I...have an errand to do before I go in.”

“That’s fine,” he told her. “So do I.”

She heaved a sigh as she hung up the phone. It was a start. Yet now that she had heard his voice, felt that small ray of hope stirring between them...she wished she could see him right now.

But it would have to wait. For another thing Janette had told her had terrified her.

LaCroix could kill Nick. If he wanted to. She’d have to make sure it never came to that.

He set down the receiver, deep in thought. He bit back the smile that tried to make its way to his lips.

*She called me. She wants to talk. About us.*

What he had waited for. Yet he cautioned himself not to raise his hopes. There was still LaCroix, and Divia’s devastating words. More than ever he wanted to disbelieve them.

But he still had to know the truth. And he wouldn’t question Natalie, and risk exacerbating all the damage that had already been done.

He’d have to go to LaCroix. Before he spoke to her. He had to know.....

She’d never been to the radio station before. But she knew that he would be going on the air soon. In the past he had always sought her out; But right now, *she* needed to find *him*. Time was of the essence. She had to make sure that no matter what happened between her and Nick tonight, no matter how it might turn out, Nick would be safe. Janette had been right; he wasn’t himself. And if he should come looking for LaCroix in a fit of anger, she had to be certain that no blood would be shed. She couldn’t bear for that to happen, much less to be the cause of it.

She stood for a moment at the door of the control room, watching him play with the panels. He seemed so normal, like any DJ setting up for his show. But with senses that were far from normal, he knew she was there, and turned, a surprised expression on his face.

She stepped into the booth as he stood to greet her. “This is a pleasant treat,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. He kissed it, then continued to hold it affectionately.

“I thought I should see where *you* work for a change,” she told him.

Concern crossed his eyes. “But you shouldn’t be out and about alone after dark.”

“I needed to talk to you,” she said, cutting directly to the point.

He nodded slowly s if he’d been expecting this. “If it’s about what happened--what almost happened--I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable. I didn’t intend to pressure you into anything you weren’t prepared for.” He smiled at her with a warm light in his eyes. “Just spending time with you as I have been...is sufficient for me. I may desire more...but I will take only what you give freely.”

She took a step closer to him to show her trust. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re right--I’m not ready for things to go further than they have--but I have no regrets about the time we’ve spent together.”

He was visibly relieved, and demonstrated by reaching tentatively to kiss her on the lips. She kissed him back, trying not to think of what his amorous ministrations had done to her last night. That wasn’t why she was here....

“What’s troubling you?” he asked as they separated. There was real disquiet in his eyes. He sensed...something....

“It’s Nick,” she began.

His face clouded over. “Has he done anything to hurt you?”

“No, of course not,” she responded, in astonishment that he would even think such a thing. “I had to see him tonight, at the scene of the latest murder--it got a little nasty. And I’m worried. He’s so angry about my spending time with you--he may try to do something to you.”

“I can handle Nicholas--” he assured her.

“Uh, yeah, I know,” she said. “That’s the point. I need you to promise me that you won’t hurt him.”

He looked at her sharply, frightening her a little as his entire aspect seemed to revert to the LaCroix she had imagined before she had gotten to know him. “And if he attacks me--you expect me not to retaliate?”

“Look, you’re supposed to be the *adult* here,” she reminded him, knowing she had to become as stern as he had if she wanted him to take her seriously. “He’s your childe, right? Weaker? Less experienced? Maybe a little hotter under the collar? You can either destroy him, or stop it before anyone gets hurt. I’m just asking you to do the latter.” She paused, examining his face for change. She could see that he was mulling over her words, and realized her approach had affected him. But she had to be sure. “LaCroix, if you hurt him,” she warned, “That’s something I could never forgive you for.”

He looked into her eyes, his expression reluctantly softening. Finally he nodded. “For you then...I won’t fight him. You have my word.”

She sighed deeply, contented with his promise, then smiled weakly. She couldn’t act victoriously even if she’d wanted to. She knew that LaCroix might just as likely have refused her request. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

He slipped his arms around her waist, gently pulling her closer, until she could feel the length of his body touching hers, almost teasing hers.

“To taste your kiss again would be repayment enough.” And he looked at her again with those kind, expectant eyes that she recognized as LaCroix, *her* LaCroix, who would never hurt her. Even now, he would not kiss her until he knew that she wanted it.

She did. Her hands moved from their resting place on his shoulders to circle his neck, pulling him closer. And willingly, gladly, gratefully, she brought her mouth to his....

And once more she felt that warmth that dwelled within him, the kindness, the passion, that so few had seen. And as he prolonged his hungry kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue, she could feel the same aching need as last night, the void that so desperately cried out to be filled. What was his power over her? Did she really desire LaCroix? Or was it simply the exquisite way he held her, kissed her, gave her what she’d needed so desperately from Nick....

Sudden guilt overwhelmed her. She didn’t want LaCroix to make her feel this way. Pull away....

But it was LaCroix who suddenly withdrew. She opened her eyes to look at him in surprise, and realized that something had called his attention. She turned abruptly to follow his defiant stare....

It was Nick. Aghast. His eyes flaming scarlet, his fangs bared in an insane, jealous fury....

It seemed an eternity that he stood watching them...LaCroix’s arms enveloping her possessively, Natalie reaching up hungrily for his kiss, just as she had for *his* not so long ago....

But it took only an instant for his entire being to die. The heart that had loved her froze over; and the soul that had trusted her, believed in her, fell back into the abyss to which LaCroix had condemned it...was condemning it once more, with this defilement. And as his love for her was brutally extinguished, so was his hope, his future...everything that had been wrapped up in the woman who had given him back his humanity, and had promised so much more....

Lies. All lies. And the fury that overwhelmed him rose from his shattered heart into his eyes, nearly blinding him with their crimson glow. And as his fangs extended, drawing blood from his own lips, he knew that the beast in him had taken complete control. And it would protect him, avenge him, soothe his pain with retribution for this ultimate betrayal....

It would kill them both.

And he would let it.

Natalie’s eyes opened wide in dread. She had never seen him like this--even his rage when he had fallen off the wagon had seemed mild compared to the blind fury that had overcome him now. His once-blue eyes were the color of blood, his face contorted in a bestial snarl. But more than fear gripped her. It broke her heart to know that she had done this to him, precisely when she’d wanted nothing more than to give them a second chance...

She opened her mouth to say his name, to beg him to calm down. But her plea turned into a gasp of horror as LaCroix was ripped from her and thrown across the room. The older vampire stood quickly, the rage passing through his eyes. But as she cried, “LaCroix, no!”, she could see him struggling to contain his anger, for the sake of his vow to her.

Nick was going at him again, and Natalie moved quickly to stand before him. She called his name, but knew he would not answer. His eyes were dead, devoid of any part of him that she had known. And he barely seemed to acknowledge her as he pushed her aside, with such force that she was sent sprawling. Natalie winced at the pain as her tail bone crashed against the floor, and fought to keep back the tears that had found their way to the corners of her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. He would kill her, she knew. He would kill both of them. He was no longer in control. But she had caused this, and she would have to set it right...

“My, what a chivalrous knight you are, Nicholas,” LaCroix spat at him in contempt. “Throwing your lady across the room--”

Something seemed to stir within him as he glanced at her, as if realizing for the first time what he had done. But as she pulled herself to her feet, he turned back to LaCroix, and the beast took over once more as he lunged for his master’s neck.

This time, LaCroix threw him into the glass wall, and Nick went crashing through the sound booth. Natalie ran to him, and as he stood up, she brought herself once more between him and LaCroix.

“Nick, don’t do it!” she pleaded.

For a moment she saw him hesitate, but it was only to snarl at her, before saying, in a voice lower than his own, “Get out of the way, Nat, or I’ll kill you too for what you’ve done to me!”

His words cut through her, and she knew she was shaking. “Oh, you will?” she challenged bravely, refusing to let him see the fear in her heart. “For a kiss?”

“It’s more than that, and you damn well know it!” he cried.

What did he think? She knew he was in no state to listen to reason. But she could not back away now; it would only give credence to his accusations. “Really?” she said, as if angry that he would dare to denounce her for something she hadn’t done. “Well, if you’re so certain, and you trust me so little....” She let her voice trail off. But she crossed her arms and stood in front of him, and the unspoken challenge was clear. *Go ahead. Kill me*.

“You wouldn’t dare touch her,” LaCroix warned, ready to move in.

Nick seemed to ignore LaCroix as his eyes searched hers. She stood firm, as if defying him to find guilt there. And to her relief, she saw the Nick she loved slowly begin to emerge, as his eyes cooled to an amber glow. For a brief moment, she could see the profound sadness that had brought him to this, and had come forth just now as he’d realized what he had almost done. “No, I won’t,” he said softly, his hand reaching out as if to touch her face. She stepped closer to him, to show her trust...but he withdrew his hand before the contact could be made. He looked from one to the other, once more erecting a shield to conceal his emotions. And his voice was neutral, save for the controlled anger, as he said, “I want nothing to do with either of you ever again.”

He turned and left.

Natalie merely stared after him, unable to move. Tears had begun to well in her eyes, her relief overshadowed now by anguish. It couldn’t end this way. She felt LaCroix’s hand on her arm, and turned to face him.

“Are you...all right?” he asked, holding her arms as he looked her over.

She mamaged a nodded. She couldn’t speak just yet; she might cry. That was the last thing she wanted to do. He took her into his arms, and for a long moment she rested her head greatfully against his chest. “It’s over,” he promised her, stroking her hair.

His words jarred her. ”No,” she murmured, then looked up at him. “I have to go to him. He thinks...”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” he replied sharply. “He could have killed you.”

She shook her head, gently pulling away from him. “No. He didn’t. And he won’t.”

“Natalie, I will not let you go to him. Not while he’s in this mad frenzy--” He stopped, as if realizing that telling her he ‘wouldn’t let her’ was tantamount to sending her off in the other direction. “Please. I did as you asked,” he reminded her, trying a different tack. “Do this for me. Stay away from him.”

She knew she owed this to him. But she owed so much more to Nick, and to herself. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

LaCroix’s face was emotionless, but she could read the mixture of anger and worry in his eyes. “Then let me go with you. To protect you.”

“I can’t,” she replied. “This is something I have to do on my own.”

She looked at him for a long moment before reaching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. “I’ll be okay,” she promised.

“If he harms you, I *will* destroy him,” he assured her in no uncertain terms.

She didn’t respond. Nick wouldn’t hurt her. The time for hurting was over.

The loft was dark, but she knew he must be there. The thought had occurred to her that he might have gone to the Raven. But no. The agony in his eyes had been too deep; it was something he would share with no one right now, not even Janette. He would seek comfort from his oldest companion--the blood. She knew that. She was prepared for that.

After he had nearly killed her, she was prepared for anything. She had to be. It was the only way they could possibly get over this.

She held her breath as the elevator doors creaked open, releasing it as she saw him. Against the moonlight that streamed through the open windows, he sat on the couch, raising the bottle to his lips. His back was to her, but he stiffened suddenly as he sensed her. Without turning to her, he said, “Get the hell out of here, Natalie.”

“No,” she said firmly, walking towards him.

He turned to her, his golden eyes filled with hurt. “I don’t want you here.”

“That’s too bad. I’m not leaving until we talk. That was what we had agreed to do tonight?”

“That was before--”

“Nothing has changed,” she broke in abruptly.

“Yes it has.” His voice was filled with defeat.

“Not for me,” she said quietly. With that she sat down on the couch, letting him know she had no intention of leaving.

For a few moments, he ignored her, drinking from the bottle in his hand until it was empty. He knew she hated to see him drink blood, and she was positive that this little act of defiance was meant to hurt her. But she said nothing, waiting patiently for him to speak.

Finally, he turned to her. “All right,” he said with contempt in his voice. “Why don’t you tell me what you and I have left to discuss?”

She met his yellow glare undaunted. “Why don’t we start with what a hypocrite you are?”

He hadn’t expected this, and she was glad to catch him off guard. While he stared at her, she continued, “What right did you have to react like that--” She swept her hand over the table filled with empty bottles. “Like *this*, over a kiss?”

His face hardened. “I know that’s not all there is. You’ve made love with him, haven’t you?” he accused.

She met his gaze without blinking. “You know, it would serve you right if I just said it’s none of your business and left it at that--because it isn’t. If I had made love with him--how could you possibly be angry at me after *you* slept with Janette--?”

“That was different--” he said uncomfortably.

“No, it’s not!” she cried angrily.

“LaCroix could kill you.”

She looked him squarely in the eyes, as she replied with meaning, “So could you.”

He was silent, and she knew that the guilt of what he had almost done to her weighed heavily upon him.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “You don’t know how it felt to see you with him.”

“Yes I do,” she reminded him. “What I walked in on was a hell of a lot worse.”

He sighed deeply, averting her eyes. “You know I wouldn’t have hurt you,” he said quietly. “I could never hurt you.”

“I know,” she admitted, wanting to assuage his guilt on that one point. There were more important things to discuss. “Just as I know that LaCroix won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know him!” he burst out.

She shook her head. “No, Nick. It’s *you* I don’t know! He’s held back nothing from me. You, on the other hand, claimed to love me, and yet you never trusted me enough to share everything--your past, your pain....” She could not conceal her hurt as she said, “That’s why you always went to Janette.”

“So you punished me by making love with my enemy! What was it, Nat? The sex?” he taunted, his eyes taking on a reddish glow. “The fact that he’s older, more controlled, and knew how to give you what you couldn’t get from me?”

“Listen to yourself, will you? Do I sense a little projection here? Isn’t that why you went to Janette? Because you could make love to her without worrying about killing her? Because she could give you what I couldn’t? What you weren’t willing to wait for?

She didn’t want to lose it. But she was close. She stood from the couch, needing to distance herself physically from him. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “Look, you would deserve it if I had been with someone else. But I wasn’t--”

“He was in your apartment the night I called. He stayed overnight. And last night--”

“Oh, and were you perched outside my window? I was with him, and we kissed. It went a little further than that. But then we stopped. Period. And he left.” She paused. “The only thing I’ve ever gotten from LaCroix that you *wouldn’t* give me, is trust. He trusts me with the truth about himself.”

He stood to face her. “I trusted you more than any other mortal!”

“I wanted you to trust me more than any other *woman*!” she cried. Her cheeks were hot with anger. She didn’t know if he believed her. She was beginning not to care. But as he came to her, gingerly placing his hands on her shoulders, she could see that his eyes had returned to their beautiful blue. And the anguish in his expression was no longer self-pity, but rather the pain of what he had done to her.

“I do, Nat,” he whispered. “I do. Please...forgive me...” And as he wrapped his arms around her, she closed her eyes, falling gladly into his embrace. God, how she had missed this! The scent of his skin, the safety of his arms about her, the touch of his hands as he caressed her cheek, her hair...There *was* something here to be salvaged...perhaps with time. But this was a start, wasn’t it?

She hadn’t realized that tears were streaming down her cheeks until he wiped them away. And she hadn’t known how much she’d missed his kiss until he crushed his lips against hers, kissing her with a hunger and passion he’d never allowed himself with her. She knew this couldn’t last. And she relished every touch, every taste, until the inevitable.

He separated from her reluctantly, his expression one of deep regret. And she knew that he was wondering just how much more control LaCroix had been able to maintain....He squeezed her hand, kissing it, then releasing it. He couldn’t touch her right now. She could see him struggling with his hunger.

“So, does this mean you’re willing to talk now?” she asked with an expectant smile, breaking the tense silence. “Because if you still want me to leave, I--”

“Don’t you dare!” he said with a grin, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down to the couch with him. “Okay, let’s talk,” he said, growing serious. “But let me start.”

“Be my guest.” She’d said enough. She needed to hear something from him that would convince her that she wasn’t about to make a big mistake by trusting him again.

“I need you to understand...that I do trust you, Nat. With my life. My soul.” He touched her cheek, the love in his eyes quelling the vampiric hunger. “With my heart. I just couldn’t bear to lose you--and I thought I would, if you knew everything.”

“So any time it was really bad--you went to Janette.” She tried to hide the bitterness. But she failed miserably.

“It’s not that I trusted her more, Nat. Or loved her more,” he made sure to add. “In fact, she’s betrayed me more times that I can count. But she knows the things I’ve done--the things I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. She was *there* when they happened. And sometimes, it was easier to go to her.”

“Including for sex.”

She was sorry almost the moment she’d said it. But a part of her still needed to remind of that hurt. It was something that wouldn’t go away, even long after she’d forgiven him.

His face grew dark. “It hadn’t happened until that night, Nat. And it probably wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for everything that was going on. I was backsliding--I knew it.” He looked at the empty bottles on the coffee table. “I still am.” He sighed, not able to look her in the eyes. “First I lost my humanity--again--when your mortality drug failed. And then, thanks to LaCroix, I couldn’t even have you, and what we’d started. I just...” He shrugged. “...gave up. I don’t know. And she was there. And it was safe. Familiar.”

“I know all this,” she said gently, resting her hand over his. “What I need to know now is whether or not things would be any different if we were to try it again.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. “You’re never going to be able to trust me again, are you?”

She hesitated a bit too long, and could see his apprehension until she finally answered, “In time. But things would have to change.”

“I know.” He brought his face closer to hers. “Natalie, I love you--”

“But is that enough for you? Until we find a cure--or a way around the problems with really *being together*--can you be satisfied with our relationship?”

He smiled, looking at her as if she were the sun, moon and stars to him. “Oh yes,” he said emphatically, as if he had learned his lesson. “Nat, I would rather walk into the sunlight than be with someone else ever again.”

Her cheeks grew hot as they always did when he gazed at her that way. “You wouldn’t have to,” she told him, with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’d drag you out into the daylight myself if you ever did something like that again.”

He gave her a look as if to say *You’re very cruel*, but he merely said, “I don’t doubt it.” He kissed her tentatively on the cheek, and when he pulled away she could see the worry that still clouded his eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There’s something *I* have to know, Nat,” he said hesitantly. “About you and...him.”

Her heart stopped. She’d thought this had been resolved. “Nick, I told you we didn’t--”

“I know,” he broke in quickly. “And I believe you. But you’re forgetting, he was the reason I had to stay away from you. He was going to kill you--or bring you over. I don’t understand what happened...what he’s up to.”

“Nick, he’s not up to anything,” she assured him. “And he won’t bother us any more. He won’t stop us from being together this time. He and I...have gotten to know each other.”

“How well?” he asked jealously.

“We’re *friends*. He wouldn’t--”

“Do you love him, Nat?” he asked suddenly. And she could see that this was the crux of what concerned him. He didn’t understand what had changed, why it was safe for them now. And he was afraid of whatever connection she had made with LaCroix.

“Nick, I *like* him,” she said slowly. And then, although she was uncomfortable admitting it to him, added, “And yes. I am attracted to him. But I don’t *love* him, Nick.” He was looking away, as if he couldn’t watch her as she spoke of her feelings for LaCroix. She leaned over, bringing her face within inches of his, and reaching up to gently turn his head, making him face her. “I don’t fall in love--or out of love--that easily,” she said emphatically.

Relief flooded his face. “Does this mean...we have a chance?” he half-whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

She answered him with a kiss--slow, sweet, loving. And as he enveloped her in his arms, she fell back against him, closing her eyes. It would be all right now. She knew it. She wasn’t deluding herself. This was real. And this time, it would work.

Divia’s eyes blazed with her jealousy. Each kiss, each tender caress, that Nicholas wasted on this mortal, drove her insane. How could she have miscalculated? How could both LaCroix and Nicholas have changed so much since she’d known them? Or did this woman really have so much power over them both?

She’d expected Nicholas to kill her. If he’d killed LaCroix in the bargain--that would be the price to pay to have the one she loved. But Nicholas had surprised her. Rather than sever the bonds between him and Natalie, Divia had only served to strengthen them with her ploy. Yes, Nicholas had changed. His humanity, his reason, had won out over his bestial urges.

But LaCroix was different. He had to be. She knew him too well, had trained him too thoroughly. His heart was cold, his need to seek vengeance an intrinsic part of his character. If Nicholas wouldn’t be driven to kill this woman--LaCroix would. And if Nicholas were to kill LaCroix....

C’est la vie. Natalie would still be gone. And Nicholas would be hers.

But she would have to plan it very carefully this time....

LaCroix tapped his fingers impatiently against the bar, looking up from his thoughts only long enough to motion for Miklos to bring him another glass of Janette’s blood-wine mixture. Two hours had passed since Natalie had left in search of Nicholas, and still there was no sign of her. He’d checked her apartment, then called the morgue, where her friend Grace had told him with concern that she was already an hour late for work. LaCroix had to fight the urge to go looking for her. After all, she was most definitely in the most obvious place.

Nicholas’ loft.

He tried to rationalize that she could be in danger. That in Nicholas’ state he might want--had wanted--to kill her. But he knew in his heart that even in his rage, Nicholas would not harm her. He hadn’t. And he wouldn’t. Therefore, he should not be concerned.

The fact that he was, was a real source of irritation to him. For he knew it wasn’t mere fear for her safety. It was jealousy. Pure, emotional, human, jealousy.

And it was driving him quite insane.

“Soif?” Janette asked him, as she noticed him ask Miklos to refill his glass.

“Have you heard from Nicholas?” he asked her abruptly, ignoring her question.

“No,” she answered, and he sensed that she was telling the truth. “Why?”

He didn’t respond. He was too busy finishing his drink.

She’d helped him clear away the empty bottles, and watched in satisfaction as he’d poured most of his blood supply down the drain. They’d both agreed that he couldn’t go cold turkey--his system was too used to it right now. He’d have to gradually cut down. But for the first time in months, he was ready to make an earnest start. And she could see an enthusiasm on his face that had been missing for so long, as he said, “Tomorrow night, why don’t we go food shopping--pick up a few thing s so you can start making me dinners again.”

She put her arms around his neck. “I don’t suppose you ever thought of cooking for yourself?”

“Come on, Nat. I was born in the thirteenth century. They didn’t teach men how to cook back then.” He slipped his arms around her waist. “Besides, I *like* your cooking.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You could have fooled me. I can’t remember the last time you could keep more than two bites down--”

He kissed her suddenly on the lips. And when he reluctantly pulled away, replied, “I guess I’m just going to have to try harder. With a lot of things.” He was about to kiss her again when the unwelcome sound of her beeper interrupted them. He released her with a sigh. “I knew this was too good to last.”

“Oh my God--I was supposed to be at work an hour and a half ago,” she remembered suddenly. Sure enough, the beep was from Grace. She reached for his phone, but he laid a hand over hers before she could pick it up.

“Didn’t you say something about calling in tonight?” he asked with a mischievous gleam in his eye. She smiled and was about to decline against her better judgment, but there was a sudden serious expression on his face as he added, “There’s something I need to talk to you about...about the murders.”

“Okay. Let me just check in with Grace, and let her know where to get me. Just in case there’s another--”

“There won’t be,” he told her, but held out the phone to her anyway. She looked at him strangely, then dialed her office. It was still the second memory button on his phone, right after her home. She smiled to herself to see he hadn’t changed it.

“Grace, it’s me...”

Her friend’s voice was full of worry as she said, “Natalie, thank God! I was beginning to worry. Even that handsome boyfriend of yours called looking for you--”

LaCroix. She’d forgotten about him. She was about to tell Grace that he wasn’t her boyfriend, but decided it was a conversation best had when Nick wasn’t standing next to her. “Well, Grace, I’m not coming in tonight--”

“Are you all right?”

She smiled as she looked at Nick, waiting impatiently for her to hang up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Look, if you need to get in touch with me, I’m at Nick’s...”

She didn’t have to see Grace to know she was grinning. “*Oh*. I *see*. Well, have fun. What should I tell Boyfriend Number Two if he calls? That is, assuming that Nick is back to being Number One?”

They’d really have to have a talk. “Tell him I’m fine, and I’ll call him tomorrow night. But whatever you do, don’t tell anyone where I am, okay?”

“Got it.” Grace paused. “Have a good time...”

She hung up, and she could see the question in his eyes. “LaCroix called looking for me,” she said.

He said nothing. She knew that any friendship she maintained with LaCroix would disturb him. But it wasn’t something she wanted to deal with right now. “So, I’m all yours for the night.”

“Just the night?” he asked with an impish grin.

“Well, I suppose I could be persuaded to stay the day,” she replied innocently, pretending not to catch his meaning. “So, does this mean you want me to cook you dinner?”

He squeezed her hand. She didn’t like his serious expression. “There’s something we have to talk about first.”

He led her to the couch, and she knew this was going to be a long one. But he was *talking* to her. That alone meant everything.

“I know who’s committing the murders,” he began. “Her name is Divia.”

Her eyes opened wide. “LaCroix’s daughter? The one who made him?”

His face registered surprise that she knew, and then something else. A frown of consternation, uncomfortable that LaCroix had told her so much.

“How do you know?” she asked, not letting him dwell on it.

“I saw her tonight. At the University. She was doing it to draw me out, Nat.” Again, that same guilt in his eyes as when he’d thought that LaCroix was killing the homeless to attract his attention.

But it suddenly all made sense. “She either has a thing for you...or she’s angry at you.”

Now his surprise bordered on shock. “How did you know? Did LaCroix--?” Suddenly he seemed mortified that LaCroix might have told her something about him that he had not.

She shook her head vigorously. “No--it makes sense. The victims--except for the children--were all blond young men. In fact, I remember when I saw the last one, thinking that he *looked* like you. It was actually a little spooky--especially when it turned out his name was Nicholas.” She shuddered at the memory. “So what happened? Why is she doing this?”

He breathed deeply. “It’s a long story.”

“Nick,” she warned.

“And a bad one,” he added.

“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him softly. “You promised to trust me--”

“I know,” he agreed, nodding. “Just remember--this happened in the early 1400’s--I wasn’t very nice back then.”

“It’s okay. I can handle it,” she said, squeezing his hand.

He took a deep breath and began. “It was about two hundred years after I’d been brought over. We were living in Europe still. England. We were posing as nobles from France, living in a huge castle in the north. There, I fell in love with a young woman named Elizabeth.” He paused, looking up to see if this line of discussion made her uncomfortable. But she nodded for him to go on.

“I was obsessed with finding a way to make love to a woman without...without taking her blood. They all knew, but wouldn’t teach me. For LaCroix...it was power. For Janette--”

“It was jealousy,” she surmised, and by his expression he knew that she was correct.

“Janette knew. He’d taught her. That was how...” He stopped again, this time looking into her eyes as he said, “that was how she seduced me, and brought me to LaCroix.”

So it was Janette who had lured him to his fate! Natalie couldn’t begin to comprehend how he had ever forgiven her that. But now wasn’t the time to question him. He had begun to open up, and she didn’t want to discourage him. “Go on,” she said gently.

“So, I was angry at them--frustrated--and that was when Divia arrived. LaCroix had never told us a lot about her. But for the first time since I’d known him, he actually seemed--*afraid*. We realized that she had controlled him, tormented him, really, for hundreds of years. I suppose that was why he had a need to control me and Janette. But to me, Divia was just a child--”

“And she...got a crush on you?” she guessed.

He nodded. “I didn’t take her seriously. Even when she told me she could teach me the secret of making love to a mortal--and I knew she knew it, because she had taught LaCroix--I couldn’t accept her offer. She wanted me to have sex with her. But she was a kid.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose maybe it was the very fact that I wasn’t afraid of her that attracted her.”

“Well, you’re not exactly bad-looking,” she chided him, with a twinkle in her eye.

“But I’m no pedifile, either,” he responded wryly. “I rejected her.”

He had stopped, and seemed deep in thought. She knew there was more. There had to be. “Nick, what happened next?”

When he looked into her eyes, his own were filled with anguish. “Nat, I’m afraid to--”

“You have to,” she pleaded.

“When Divia refused to teach me, I decided that maybe there was no secret--that maybe it was just control. So I went to Elizabeth that night...”

He swallowed back his emotion, and Natalie touched his arm lightly. “And she died?” she asked delicately.

“I killed her,” he corrected, making sure she understood his culpability. “And when I saw what I had done...I...lost it, Nat. I hated them for not teaching me...and I hated myself even more for having the arrogance and foolhardiness to try. So I went on a rampage over the next few days, taking women, trying to do what I hadn’t been able to do with Elizabeth....” He looked away from her in shame. His voice was devoid of emotion as he said, “In all I must have killed two dozen. Maybe more. It became a blur.”

“Oh, Nick,” she said, but in sympathy, not reproach.

“After that, I knew I had to stop. I went back to LaCroix and told him that I wouldn’t spill any more human blood.” His voice took on a tone of disdain as he said, “Of course, he had been thrilled with my killing spree. So when I began trying to live on animal blood, he locked me in chains in a stone chamber, depriving me of even that.”

“He starved you?” she asked in astonishment. Could this be the same LaCroix she thought she knew?

“It wasn’t the first time...and it wouldn’t be the last. He kept me there for days until I was too weak to even try to resist. And each night, he’d bring another beautiful young girl...terrified, begging for her life...But I couldn’t take them,” he said. “Finally, after about a month...Divia came to me.”

He turned to her now, and she could see that his eyes had taken on an amber glow with the memories. “She offered me her blood...her body...in exchange for the secret. And I hated her, Natalie. I wanted her to pay for not teaching me before...for Elizabeth...and all the others...So I took her. Violently--”

“You couldn’t help yourself. You were starving--”

“I knew what I was doing,” he admitted, and by the embarrassment on his face, she knew that it was true. “I raped her, Natalie. And nearly drained her of blood. LaCroix had to feed her his own blood just to save her.”
“I don’t understand...after all that...she still *wants* you?”

“Natalie, she is so twisted and evil that in her mind, she enjoyed it. She’s a two thousand year old sociopathic child. She even tried to kill Janette, a hundred years later--” He saw the question in her eyes and explained, “It was during the Renaissance. Janette and I were...involved for almost a hundred years. Divia thought that if Janette were destroyed...” His voice trailed off, and he looked at her with concern in his eyes. She didn’t like hearing about any of this. But she needed to. And she also needed to keep any shock or hurt from her face lest he think he should stop. It was too important for him to go on, and share it with her.

“So what happened?”

“LaCroix and I stopped her,” he said. “And she left. It was the last time I saw her...until last night.” He rose suddenly, standing to look out the window. But she knew he was staring at nothing beyond his images of the past. For a few moments she let him have his silence, until finally he said, “So there, Nat, you know the whole story. Are you satisfied?”

His tone was so cold, distant. Yet she knew that it wasn’t anger, but shame that was controlling him now. He had opened his life up to her just as he’d feared to do for the past three years. And the next few moments would tell him if his fears had been justified or not. She went over to him, standing behind him. “It’s okay,” she said tenderly, slipping her hands around his waist and resting her head against his shoulder.

“No, it’s not,” he said in a hushed whisper. “Is that what you needed, Nat? To hear that I killed a woman I loved trying to make love to her? All the other murders, the brutality...did you really need to hear that? Because there’s a hell of a lot more!”

“And you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” she said calmly.

“Why? So you can despise me? Or be frightened to let me touch you?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she promised.

She felt his hands cover hers. “I’m afraid of myself,” he said almost inaudibly. She could hear the emotion in his voice, and knew that he was too abashed to face her. So she held him until he had the strength to speak again. “Natalie, *he* can tell you the things he’s done because he doesn’t regret them. He’s proud of them.” She could hear the bitterness in his voice. And she knew the truth of his words. Perhaps for the first time since she had gotten to know LaCroix, she could really appreciate the major difference between them.

“And that’s why *you’re* the one I love,” she told him.

Suddenly, he released her hands, as he turned around to face her. “Can you really love me knowing all this? What I am, what I‘ve done...?”

“Yes!” she assured him again. And as she saw that one word begin to quell his fears, she smiled to see the relief spread across his face, and the calm blue return to his eyes.

“You are one incredible woman,” he told her softly.

“Yeah, I keep trying to tell you that,” she replied, reaching up to kiss him.

And he kissed her, unafraid.

“I love you so much,” he whispered in her ear as he held her tightly.

“Just don’t forget it again, okay?” There was the slightest vestige of remembered hurt behind her blithe tone.

He didn’t fail to hear it. He pulled his face away to look into her eyes. “Never,” he swore. And relieved to see her smile once more, he pulled her close again, repeating, “Never.”

She’d slipped out during the day to check on Sydney and pick up fresh clothes for that night’s shift. She was tired herself, but her thoughts were racing too much to sleep. The night had been a breakthrough for them. For even as they’d lain together in his bed, holding each other until dawn, he’d told her things that he never had. His fear was gone. And with each new part of his past he had revealed to her, the wall that he had built had come tumbling down. There were no emotional barriers now. And they both felt it. With a new ease of knowing that he would not lose her, he’d opened up completely. And she knew now that he trusted her implicitly.

It was all she’d ever wanted. Even the physical closeness seemed less of a problem. Knowing that she wasn’t afraid of him, gave Nick the confidence to push the limits of his self-control. And by the time they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, they’d made definite progress....

Natalie smiled to herself as she remembered his eager but gentle exploration, his cool hands against her bare skin, sending waves of arousal through her. Even thinking of it now made her want him....

In time. And maybe, if he were awake, they could push it just a bit further....

He was waiting for her as the elevator door slid open, his hair tousled and his eyes squinting as if he had just woken up. But there was unmistakable worry on his face. “I woke up and you were gone....”

She motioned to the groceries in her arms. “I promised you dinner, remember?”

He smiled as he took the bags from her, setting them down and holding out his arms to her. She fell into them gladly.

“I was worried,” he whispered. “Nat, I don’t want you to go out alone when the sun’s down. Not until we find Divia.”

She nodded. He’d told her how Divia had been the one watching her with LaCroix; how she’d incited Nick’s jealousy by telling him LaCroix had made love to her. He was sure that she’d intended for him to kill her, or LaCroix, or both. “We’ll have to tell LaCroix she’s back,” Natalie reminded him.

“I know. I already called Janette to warn her Divia might be coming there for blood. Janette hasn’t seen LaCroix since last night.”

Again, she remembered Grace’s message. “I have to speak to him too. I think I owe it to him.”

Nick was silent, merely hugging her closer to him. She knew he didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of her maintaining contact with LaCroix. But she’d proven last night that she was his, and his alone. There was no jealousy left in either of them. Even the fact that he’d called Janette didn’t bother her. After all, Janette had wanted them to get back together, hadn’t she?

“Just promise me you won’t go out alone at night, okay?”

“I *do* have to go to work, tonight,” she reminded him. He ignored her, tasting her neck with his lips, his tongue.

“Later,” he said softly. “I’ll take you there...but much later.”

Natalie trembled as his mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply, pressing his body against hers so that she could feel his arousal through his silk pajamas. And once again, her own desire for him coursed through her.

At this rate, she might never want to leave the loft again....

In his apartment, LaCroix lay awake waiting for night to fall. He’d called her apartment dozens of times, and left countless messages at her office. But she was nowhere to be found. Unable to force sleep, he rose once more, reaching for the phone.

Janette answered almost immediately, as if she’d been awake.

“Have you heard from Nicholas?” he asked. There was no need to identify himself.

“Yes. And there’s something--”

“Was Natalie with him?” he broke in abruptly.

He could hear her hesitation.

“Janette,” he warned.

“Yes,” she said finally.

He’d known. Yet hearing it made his heart sink. “So, she’s forgiven him,” he stated dully.

It hadn’t been a question. It *never* had been.

“LaCroix, there’s something more...pressing, right now.” There was fear in her voice.

“And what could *that* possibly be?” he asked with little interest.

“It’s Divia.”

The mere mention of her name made his skin crawl. “Divia?”

“She’s here. She’s the one making the killings. She promised Nick she’d stop, but she’s planning on coming here.” She paused, as if waiting for a response. But he was still mulling over the ramifications in his mind. “LaCroix, please,” Janette begged. “I need you to be here in case she comes.”

Her tone struck a chord of sympathy in him. She was his childe; he was bound to protect her. “I’ll be there at sunset,” he promised, trying to soothe her with his tone.

It made sense, didn’t it? There were few besides Divia who would break the Code so recklessly. The real question was why she was here. For him? For Nicholas?

Nicholas knew. At least he would be prepared.

*Natalie*. If Divia had been watching them, she knew Natalie’s importance to both of them. For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, he was relieved to know that she was with Nicholas. At least she would be safe....

....or so he hoped. He glanced at the clock. Another hour to sunset. Taking a bottle of Janette’s finest vintage from his refrigerator, he drank it down. He would need his strength.

They all would.

“Come on,” she coaxed. “Just one more bite...”

He looked helplessly from her expectant face to the rare steak on his plate. “Nat, I already had half of it. And that took me half an hour--”

“It’ll get a lot easier once there’s less blood in your system,” she promised. “Remember, a few months ago I had you up to a hamburger?” She cut a tiny piece and held the fork out to him as if she were feeding a child. “I have complete faith in you.”

She’d known that would do it. He opened his mouth, letting her insert the meat. She waited until he chewed and swallowed. She knew his tricks, and wasn’t going to take the chance that he’d spit it out.

He made a face as if he would be sick, then closed his eyes as the wave of nausea passed. Then he smiled weakly. “Okay, Mom? Can I have dessert now?”

“I’m very proud of you,” she told him as she cleared away the dishes. Looking behind her shoulder from the sink, she could see from his expression that he was pleased with himself.

She finished the dishes, and turned around. He had disappeared. Moments later, he came down the stairs holding something in his hand. Only when he approached did she realize what it was.

A gun.

“What the hell is that for?” she asked as he held it out to her.

“It’s for you, while you’re at work. I need to go in to the station, and then find LaCroix. I know you said there’ll be a lot of people in the building, but I want you to have this with you...just in case.”

She hesitated. “You know I don’t like guns. Besides, what good is a gun against a vampire?”

He opened the chamber to show her the bullets.

“Wood?” she asked.

“Right through the heart. They won’t kill her, but they’ll incapacitate her long enough for you to get away.”

Reluctantly, she took it from him, wondering just what he was doing with it himself. “Thanks, I think,” she said, slipping it into her purse. Then she looked back at him with a naughty gleam in her eye. “You never know, this might come in handy one day if you get out of hand.”

He took her into his arms. “Oh really? And tell me, Doctor Lambert, did I get too ‘out of hand’ for you last night? Or today?”

She paused, pretending to think it over, then said, “Nah, nothing I couldn’t handle.” She reached up to give him a kiss. “The sun’s coming down. We’d better go--”

He kissed her again, not letting her go. “On one condition. Promise you’ll spend the day again tomorrow?”

Hmmm. She’d have to think about that one long and hard. “Only if you have twice as much steak tomorrow.”

“French fries? Ketchup?” he asked with the hopefulness of a child.

She grinned at his enthusiasm. It had been too long.

She had trouble concentrating on her work, and she was glad that things were slow. There was still a killer at large, she knew, one who might have a personal grudge against her. Then there was LaCroix. She did have to talk to him. Waiting this long, especially after what had happened at the radio station, was inexcusable. Yet the progress that she and Nick had made in the last twenty-four hours had seemed to outweigh all else. Only the gun she’d left in her pocketbook was a grim reminder that they weren’t all out of the woods.

She sat down, trying to review her notes on the last murder. Her conscience tugged at her as she realized this was one more she’d have to fudge to protect “the community”. She hoped Nick was right, and this was the last. She couldn’t take doing this for much longer.

Lost in thought, she barely heard the door open. “What is it, Grace? Not another one, I hope--”

But it wasn’t her friend’s eyes that met hers as she looked up. Her heart froze as the little blond girl gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Divia,” she said, standing slowly.

“So you know who I am, Natalie.” She walked towards her, and Natalie cursed herself silently for having left her bag, and the gun, across the room. “Good. I thought it was time we met. Don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Natalie replied carefully. She had never been one to sense auras. But the evil that this vampire child emanated was unequivocal. Yet Natalie couldn’t help thinking that physically, Divia seemed no older than her niece Amy.

“I’ve been watching you, you know,” Divia told her, apparently studying her for a reaction.

Natalie was careful to give her none, as she replied, “Yes, I know.”

“You seem to have them both...bewitched,” she said with real interest. “Tell me...are you as desperately in love with them as they are with you? Both of them?”

Natalie raised her eyebrows. “I think you’re mistaken, Divia. LaCroix and I are just friends.” She’d tactfully avoided the question of Nick, knowing full well that that could get her throat ripped out.

“Oh, but he would wish for much more,” Divia replied. “And knowing how cold and heartless my father can be...I find this all quite fascinating.” And Natalie could see from her expression that it was true--Divia did have some sick enchantment with the whole situation. “So then am I to assume that it is only Nicholas whom you love?”

Natalie knew it would be useless to lie. “Yes,” she admitted truthfully. “I love him very much.”

But Divia’s reaction was far from what she’d expected. “Good. Then you should find my proposition quite interesting.”

“Proposition?” she asked.

Divia’s eyes lit up, flecked with gold. “Yes. I can help you make him mortal again. That is what you both want, isn’t it?”

Natalie wasn’t sure if she’d heard correctly. She must have appeared utterly stunned, because Divia repeated, “Yes, Natalie. I can help you make Nicholas mortal again.”

“You have a cure.” Natalie said it aloud, needing confirmation.

Divia hesitated. “Not exactly. But I do have the means to find one.”

Natalie was silent, waiting for her to elaborate.

“You see, for some time I’ve been aware of a certain legend--one more ancient even than we are--that the blood of a vampire can be used to revert those in his or her bloodline back to human form. Nicholas is of my line. LaCroix is his master, and I am LaCroix’s.”

Natalie didn’t need a lesson in Divia’s family tree. “You mean treating it as if it were a virus--and going back to the index case...”

“Something like that.” Divia seemed bored with the specifics. “Science has never interested me, Natalie. I much prefer...other diversions.”

*Like murdering young men*, Natalie wanted to say, but held her tongue.

“I’ve watched you, Natalie. And...I’ve heard about you. Your intelligence is something both Nicholas and LaCroix respect greatly. And I believe that given what I know, and provided with the right...resources...you could find the cure.”

“And what *resources* would those be?” she asked suspiciously.

“Samples of my blood. I’ll let you draw it yourself.”

Natalie was stupefied.

“Think of it, Natalie,” she said, with that same gold-speckled gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Nicholas could be human--and all yours. Free of all his ties to the vampire world.”

“At what price?” Natalie asked boldly. “Why would you possibly make this offer unless there were something you wanted in return?”

Divia seemed taken aback, if only for a moment. “Very good, Natalie. As perceptive as I would have hoped. The price is small. Once you have found the cure...I will expect you to turn it over to me.”

It all became painfully clear. “To use against LaCroix...Janette.”

Divia smiled sweetly. “If I please.”

“I won’t do it then,” she said softly, although it broke her heart to know the cure was within her grasp. “I won’t help you destroy them.”

Divia’s glare became hard. “Are you certain, Doctor Lambert? Think before you respond. There are others who could do this too, you know.”

“Then let them,” she replied sharply.

She knew it had been a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth. Divia’s transformation was swift and severe. Her eyes were flaming red, and her fangs were bared as if poised to strike. Natalie knew terror as Divia’s hand clasped her neck, her nails clawing into her skin.

“You think yourself so brave,” she snarled in a voice much deeper than moments before. “I could have swatted you like a fly, or put you under my control. But instead, I gave you a choice. Now I ask again, will you accept my offer--yes or no?”

The possibilities flashed through her mind at the speed of light. If she declined, Divia would kill her. Of that she had no doubt. Natalie didn’t want to die. And she knew that her death would devastate Nick. To have finally come together like this, only to lose each other again...she couldn’t bear the tragic irony of it. Nor could she bear to be an agent of LaCroix’s destruction. And yet, if she were to die, Divia would still find a way to destroy them all...

If she lived, she could warn them. Yes, agree to Divia’s terms, and warn LaCroix of her plan. And perhaps she *could* find a cure, bring Nick back across...

She could do none of this if she were dead.

“Yes,” she gasped as Divia’s fingers dug into her throat, threatening to snap her neck at any moment. “Yes...I’ll...do it!”

She could breathe again. She grabbed her throat as if to make sure it were all in one piece. When she drew her hand away, her fingers were wet with her own blood.

Divia had transformed back into that deceptively sweet little girl, and was smiling at her brightly. “There. Isn’t that better?”

Natalie said nothing, too angry to trust herself not to get herself killed. Taking a moment to beocme composed, she said, “Okay. When do we start?”

Divia held out her arm, rolling up her sleeve to expose the paper white skin beneath. “Now.”

Natalie tried to repress her pleasure as she opened up a clean syringe and needle.

She would enjoy taking her blood.

She’d called Nick immediately after Divia had gone, and he’d arrived so quickly that she knew he must have flown from the station.

“Are you all right?” he cried, rushing to take her into his arms. Only as he hugged her close to him did he notice the dried blood on her neck, and the huge purple bruises that were beginning to form. “Oh my God,” he whispered, separating from her, and reaching to examine her neck. “Let me see this...”

“Careful,” she told him, wincing even at his light touch. “It’s okay--”

“I’ll kill her!” he vowed, his eyes burning.

“It’s all right. They’re from her nails--”

“What happened?” he demanded.

“She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she told him flatly, as he searched her eyes to see if she was really all right. “But I have a feeling that if I had turned her down, she definitely would have used her fangs on the next round.”

Nick was livid. “I’ll destroy her for this, Nat. I promise you--”

“No, Nick, listen first....”

And she told him the entire story. Yet even the hope of a cure did not chase the worry from his eyes.

“And she gave you blood?” he asked in disbelief.

She motioned to the six vials on her desk. “Nick, it’s worth a try,” she said, wishing some of her optimism would rub off on him. “If I can compare her blood to yours--”

“Nat, this is insane! You can’t trust her!”

“Maybe not,” she told him. “But did I really have a choice?!” She motioned to the wounds Divia had inflicted, and he sighed in frustration. “I didn’t ask for this--”

“I know,” he said, coming to put his hands on her arms. “But we’re dealing with fire, here. She’s not like me, or Janette, or even LaCroix. She’s devious...evil...and not very sane. And she can’t be tricked--”

“We’ll warn LaCroix, and Janette--”

“Don’t you think she expects you to do that?”

“Maybe not, Nick. She knows I’m in love with you, and she knows how desperately we both want for you to be human again--”

“It’s a dangerous game, Natalie.” She had never seen such fear in his eyes.

“I know. But I just didn’t know what to do, except play along.”

“There’s nothing else you could have done,” he admitted grimly. “But I’m not leaving you alone again.”

“You have to tell LaCroix--and Janette.”

He nodded his agreement. “I’m sure they’re at the Raven. You’re coming with me, though.”

“Oh, no. You’re not getting met to budge until I’ve looked at those samples.”

“Nat, don’t argue with me! What if she comes back?”

“I’ll be doing just what she wants me to--working on the cure. Nick, she’s not going to hurt me now that I’ve agreed to do this.”

“Natalie--” His expression was dubious.

“Please, Nick. This is so important to me...to you...” She moved her face closer to his, caressing his cheek. “To us.

He kissed her. “Nat...I just don’t want anything to happen to you...” he said, his face filled with distress.

“I’ll be okay,” she promised. “Just go talk to LaCroix...let him know what’s going on.”

Reluctantly he agreed. “When I get back--” he warned.

“You can sit in that chair and watch me work on this if you like. And then when I’m done---”

“I’m taking you home. And I’m not leaving your side until this is over.”

“Now *that* sounds like fun,” she told him with a smile, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, then pushing him towards the door. “Now, go. And let me get started on this.”

She was too busy examining the blood samples to notice him looking back at her with apprehension before turning to leave.

LaCroix sat impatiently at the bar, glaring at Janette. “This is useless! I can not endure this waiting...”

“Nicolas said she would be coming--” Janette cut herself off much too quickly, and he turned to follow her stare.

“Hello, Father.”

Divia wore the same malevolent smile as she had the day he’d come back from his campaign in Gaul to find her transformed. Yet how different she seemed! With hair loosely about her shoulders, a generous helping of makeup, tight jeans and black spandex top, she looked like any young college freshman. He could easily see how she had learned to use her womanly wiles to attract prey.

With a serious edge of sarcasm in his voice, he said, “My, how my little girl has grown up.”

“Still charming as always,” she said dryly, then turned to Janette, who was silently eyeing her with suspicion. “I *do* appreciate your hospitality, Janette. It seems that feeding on mortals is frowned upon in Toronto.”

“You endangered our entire community!” Janette said suddenly, unable to contain her anger. “If Natalie hadn’t been able to cover up--”

LaCroix silenced her with a warning look, and a hand over hers. He didn’t want to see Janette incite Divia’s wrath. This wasn’t the place for another battle like their last.

“Ah, yes, *Natalie*,” Divia said with a sneer. “Tell me, Janette, how does it feel to have Nicholas replace you with a mere mortal?”

Janette was about to respond when LaCroix broke in, “Let’s dispense with the small talk, shall we? Why don’t you tell us why you’re here...?”

“Because you need me,” she responded, turning her attention back to him. “You’ve grown soft, LaCroix. You’ve forgotten all I taught you. And you’ve let this mortal woman make a fool of you.”

“This is none of your affair,” he said evenly.

“Ah, but it is. *You* are my concern. That’s why I tested her loyalty to you.” She looked at him with an evil glint in her eyes as she said, “She failed.”

LaCroix could feel the anxiety building inside him. “If you’ve done anything to her--” he began, his eyes taking on the amber glow of his anger.

“Oh, I haven’t harmed her. But *you* may when you learn her real intentions for you. You see, I told her the legend of the Master’s Blood. I offered her mine, to cure Nicholas. In exchange, she will give me the cure--so I can use it against you.”

“You’re lying.”

“Oh, she agreed quite willingly, Father. You see, no matter what she has told you--or *done* with you--,” she said with meaning, “it’s Nicholas whom she loves. And she will do anything to have him. Even if it means betraying you to me.”

“She would never agree to that,” he snarled at her, though he knew that in his rage he was revealing just how much doubt she had planted in his mind.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that had been her plan all along. To deceive you into loving her, so that when you were most vulnerable she could take *your* blood to use in her research for a cure. Do you mean to say that thought has never occurred to you?” she asked with a wide-eyed honesty that was all too convincing. She downed the glass of blood Janette had set in front of her, while she let her words sink in.

“You don’t know her,” LaCroix hissed at her.

She set down the glass. “No, Father, it is *you* who do not know her. She has made a fool of you, and you are too blinded by your love to realize it.” She stood. “You needn’t take my word. See for yourself. Go to her laboratory, and see her working diligently on the blood samples I gave her. And then tell me that she is not prepared to betray you out of her love for Nicholas! He has always wanted mortality, and freedom from you. Well, she intends to provide him with both!”

He could feel the blood that he had drunk churning in the pit of his stomach. He could no longer control his eyes, that had taken on a permanent yellow glow. As Divia left, Janette came around to face him, putting her hands on his arms.

“Don’t believe her, LaCroix. You know what she does. Trying to turn us all against each other. She’s jealous of Natalie, and wants to use your feelings against you--”

“I have to know,” he said in a voice that was more like a growl. He was losing control, flying into a rage that he could see reflected in Janette’s frightened expression. Divia was right--he had become weak, vulnerable with his love for Natalie. He remembered the night when he had come so close to making love to her--she had pulled away because she still loved Nicholas. Had her passion with him, the eagerness of her kiss, been nothing more than a deception? She’d been furious with Nicholas, told him she wished never to see him again...yet had come to him begging him not to harm Nicholas...immediately before Nicholas had come bursting into the radio station. Had it all been a ruse, some clever manipulation to make Nicholas jealous? Had she known he would come? Nicholas had nearly killed her. Yet she had run after him...and LaCroix had not heard from her since.

“What a fool I’ve been...” he murmured.

“LaCroix! No!” he heard Janette say. But the words had barely escaped her lips before he had fled from the Raven and taken flight.

He had to know. And if it were true....

She would pay.

Nick pushed his way past the crowd in the Raven, to find Janette sitting at the bar, her face troubled as she drank her blood-wine mixture. “Janette, I need to find LaCroix...”

“Is it true, Nicolas? Did she really agree to give Divia the means to destroy us, in exchange for the blood to find your cure?” Her blue eyes were so large with worry that it infuriated him.

“How can you think she would do such a thing?! Divia nearly killed her! She agreed to save her life. She sent me here to warn you and LaCroix--” Sudden terror gripped him. “Where’s LaCroix?”

“He was furious, Nick! Divia convinced him that Natalie had betrayed him!”

“Where is he, Janette?!” he cried, grabbing her arms and shaking her.

There was fear in his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if she were afraid of his reaction or afraid of LaCroix.

“Janette, please,” he begged, loosening his grip on her.

Sudden sadness filled her face. “Nicolas--he went to find Natalie. I’m afraid it’s already too--”

He made no effort to hide his vampiric speed as he ran from the club and leapt into the air.

She’d labeled the vials “Divia”, to differentiate them from Nick’s blood samples which she kept stored as controls. But there was so little she could do with her equipment here. She’d have to call Whittaker tomorrow; she’d definitely need the electron microscope for this. If Divia’s blood contained the same extra nucleotides....

A swishing sound as the door opened. She turned with a smile. Could Nick be back already?

“LaCroix.” She felt suddenly guilty for not having spoken to him sooner.

“Hello, Natalie.” His eyes were dead as they bore through her.

“Did Nick find you? He just went--”

“No,” he said, making her uneasy with his glare. “I haven’t seen Nicholas since I spared his life...at your request.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping towards him.

“As far as you’re concerned, nothing,” he replied. “I hear you and Nicholas have resolved your problems.”

It was like an accusation. “We’ve...made a start,” she replied. “But it takes time to rebuild trust.”

“Trust,” he repeated, moving closer, to look directly into her eyes. “How often it’s misplaced.”

“What’s happened, LaCroix? Why are you acting like this?”

“Because you betrayed me!”

Her eyes opened wide. “LaCroix, I never betrayed you--”

Her words were cut off as his hand impacted on her face, slamming her onto the floor.

For the briefest moment she sat there, dazed by the blinding flash of light from the blow to her head. But as he came at her again, she pulled herself to her feet to face him. “What the hell is going on--?” she demanded.

“No,” he said, grabbing her by her forearms so tightly that the pain was excruciating. “I want to know why you were willing to exchange my life for Nicholas’ mortality!”

It all became painfully clear. Divia had set her up for this. “LaCroix, you don’t understand. Divia threatened my life when I refused. I had to agree--look what she did to me! Look at my neck!”

For the briefest moment his rage seemed to falter as he saw the bruises that Divia had inflicted. But it returned at once as he snarled, “You could have told me this--”

“I sent Nick to warn you!”

“Did you really think Nicholas would care if she destroyed me? Especially if it meant his humanity? Don’t insult my intelligence, Natalie. You know he’s already tried once to destroy me himself!”

For a moment she hesitated. She knew Nick had probably just missed LaCroix; but she could see how it must look. “LaCroix, please, believe me. I sent him to warn you...” She could hear her own voice shaking. But she had never seen him like this. His eyes were aflame with his fury, his teeth bared like an animal ready to strike.

Suddenly, he released her, as his gaze found the vials of blood. He lifted two marked “Divia” into the air. “Yes, Natalie. You sent Nicholas--because you were too busy already working on the cure!” He smashed them to the floor, the blood splattering over everything.

“No!” she cried, moving to stop him before he could destroy the others. But even as she did it she realized that she was only feeding his suspicion.

“OOPS,” he said cruelly as he knocked two more to the ground.

“Stop it!” she shouted, grabbing his arm before he could take the others.

He swung around to lock her in his grip before she even realized it. “He nearly killed you! Yet you ran off after him! And you didn’t even bother to let me know that you were safe!”

“I’m sorry...” she said, seeing his hurt through the anger.

“I trusted you. I...cared for you,” he spat at her, his hands sending chills through her body as they made their way to her neck.

She was shaking now from fear. She knew what he meant to do. And he held her too tightly for her to break free, or reach for the gun. “Please, LaCroix. Believe me. I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered.

His breath was hot as he brought his mouth to her neck, licking it. “That’s a shame,” he replied. “Because I *do* mean to hurt *you*.”

The scream had no time to escape her throat. Suddenly her entire being was overwhelmed by intense pain as his fangs bore into her flesh. And at once she could feel him draining her energy, her life essence...her soul. Even the pain seemed to slip away with the last gasp of her dying body....

And then, there was nothing.

He tore into her with his rage, feeding his fury with her blood, assuaging the hunger to alleviate the pain of her betrayal. He *had* loved her, trusted her as no one in centuries...and she had repaid him with treachery.... He should have known better. He should never have let down his guard....

Yet as her life essence passed through his lips, the anger gave way to something much sweeter....pure, unmitigated, ecstasy. How he had longed for this...how he had imagined the joy of a union with her, the taste of a blood more precious than he had ever known...and with each moment, as she filled him, sated him, he could feel her spirit become part of him....

Sudden sorrow overwhelmed him, nearly sending him reeling. He hadn’t wanted it to be like this! And then the sadness was hers, and he could feel it in her blood, the pain, the anguish....

*I did not betray you, LaCroix....*

Her words reverberated through his mind; no, not her words, but her thoughts, her feelings, assaulting him involuntarily as he drained her of life. He pulled away in horror, still licking her blood on his lips. And as he looked down upon her pale white skin, so like that nightmare of days ago, he knew.

She had been telling the truth.

His grief rose up into his throat, as a single sob escaped his lips. “No,” he moaned, cradling her still form in his arms. He kissed her lips lightly as he felt the blood tears welling in his eyes. There was still life; but barely. And he knew that she had begun that journey towards the light, the light of peace, and of death.

“Come back, Natalie,” he whispered urgently into her ear. “Come back....don’t leave Nicholas...don’t leave *me*....”

Pain. Blackness. Nothing. And then....

She awoke with a start, to clear blue skies above her. Confused, she pulled herself effortlessly to her feet, and stood for a long moment, taking in her surroundings.

She was alone. And as she surveyed the endless, lifeless quarry, the still blue lake, and silent sky, she knew. God help her, she knew.

She hadn’t believed Nick. Not completely. And yet as she stood here now, all her scientific protestations about hallucinations of a dying brain went out the window. He had been right. And now, *she* was here.

Dead.

Or, near death. She wanted to panic, to run...But she could no more feel her own fear than perceive the wind against her face or the warmth of the sun beating down upon her. Her only sensation was of peace...of safety.

She lifted her fingers to her neck, where LaCroix had ripped into her flesh. There was nothing there. How could there be? She remembered floating as she’d left that vessel of pain that had been her physical body. In her mind she could see it, ravaged and pale, all life gone. But it didn’t seem to matter now. That lifeless husk wasn’t Natalie Lambert--she was here, now, far from LaCroix, far from the pain....

...far from Nick.

What would he do without her?

For a moment she looked back at the spot where she’d awoken, willing herself to see what she knew she could not. It was too late. It was all over. Time to move on....

And as she turned back, it was there. The doorway. The light. Warm, inviting....beautiful. Was it heaven? God? Jesus? So much she wanted to know....

And as she stood transfixed by its magnificence, the pure good that beckoned her to be reclaimed, a figure began to emerge. A man, blond, his smile beautific, his hands outstretched, his white robes flowing in the energy of the light. And as she stepped closer, she could see....

“Richard...” she whispered.

Her brother. Lost to her in that tragedy, enveloped in that evil by her own doing....an angel. At peace. “Join us, Natalie,” he said, reaching out his hand to her as he stepped from the light. “We’ve been waiting for you. Mom...Dad...Marie....”

All dead. Her parents. Her baby sister. And Richard. Yet within her grasp. Her heart had cried in anguish for them...and now she could rejoin them....Tears filled her eyes, as he took her hand. Not flesh, but energy, his soul touching hers. And she knew that he had found peace...that he had atoned for the evil that had been beyond his culpability...that he was with God....

“And you can join us, Natalie,” he said aloud, as if reading her thoughts. “All you need to do is follow me into the light. The choice is yours....”

She took a step forward. It was so beautiful, so compelling....and her heart ached so to see them...to know the answers to the questions she had pondered her entire life...for everything lay beyond the light. She knew that now. Her family. Her repose. God. Eternity.

“You must choose, Natalie,” Richard repeated.

His words rang in her ears...and she stopped. “Choice?” she asked, her eyes still riveted to the light. “Do you mean...I’m not dead?”

“Only evil can keep you tied to the Earth now,” he warned. She looked into his eyes. “You mean--LaCroix wants to bring me across? Make me a vampire?”

And suddenly, the spell broken, she could hear him. Calling her...begging her not to leave him...not to leave Nick....

She took both of Richard’s hands, as if in touching him she could sense the truth. “What will happen to Nick if I don’t go back?” she asked.

“He is already lost...his soul is damned...”

“But he wants to change,” she told him insistently. “He’s trying...so we can have a life together....”

“You are his source of light,” he told her matter-of-factly. “He doesn’t have the faith to do it on his own. That is why he will never succeed.”

“You mean....if I don’t go back...he’ll stop trying,” she said, wanting to understand.

Richard nodded slowly. “But if you go back...the evil will envelope you. You risk your soul--”

“To save his,” she said softly. “That’s it, isn’t it? The only way I can help Nick is if I go back...let LaCroix...bring me across.”

She could see a moment of pain flash through her brother’s eyes, disturbing his otherwise serene countenance. “Natalie...if the evil engulfs you...you may never rejoin us...and you, too, will be damned...”

A pang went through her heart as she thought of them...longing to be with them.... She could wait if she had to...but to lose them forever? To be lost to them forever?

“The evil is seductive...alluring...it can engulf you. And if it does....”

“I won’t let it,” she promised, and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. And as his spirit encircled hers, she felt she would cry for joy and sorrow...to be with him...and to know she might never be with him again. To know, because she could feel it in his essence, that he forgave her. “Good bye, Richie,” she whispered. “Tell them...I love them...I love *you*...and I’ll be with you soon. I promise.”

She saw a smile on his lips as his stepped backwards and disappeared into the light. And then, that too was gone.

And she heard it again. LaCroix’s voice.

“*Will you drink from me, my precious Natalie? Will you let me give you back the life I took?*”

“Yes,” she whispered.

And the darkness engulfed her once more.

*His* darkness consumed her, as she consumed him. The taste on her lips like metal, warm, delicious, filling her body with his essence, his energy, his life....

...his evil.

Yet it invigorated her. She was alive. She was back. And with an uncontrollable thirst, she clutched his wrist, drinking, taking, wanting more....

Suddenly, he pulled away. She moaned weakly, lifting her head, looking for him. At once he was there, reaching down to kiss her on the lips.

“You must rest, my love...”

Her vision blurred. Consciousness had brought back her last moments of life--of death--making everything that had happened in the darkness seem so unreal.... She saw LaCroix’s face and suddenly she was afraid. Suddenly she knew what he had done...what she was....

“Where’s Nick?” she whimpered.

But darkness fell again--the darkness of sleep. And in her dreams, LaCroix carried her away from Richard...and into Nick’s arms.

“Sleep,” he was commanding her.

She would. For she knew when she awoke Nick would be there. Maybe it had all been just a terrible nightmare....

He kissed her lightly, tasting his own blood on her lips. How cold she was now--as cold as he was. A pang went through his heart as he remembered her delicious warmth. He had taken that from her. And she might never forgive him. “You must rest, my love,” he said softly.

She looked up at him in confusion. She’d journeyed to death and back, and only now was it becoming clear to her. And as her eyes focused on him, they filled with something he had never seen in her.

Fear. Fear of him. She knew what he had done. What she was. “Where’s Nick?” she wept, barely audible.

“Sleep,” he told her, gently yet forcefully. In her current weakened state, she would obey. She’d have to. It was the only way to regain her strength.

Scooping her into his arms, he flew off with her, to the only place where he knew he could leave her safely. He entered the Raven through the back, and set her down on Janette’s couch. Janette had sensed him, and came rushing in. Her eyes opened wide.

“What have you done to her?” she whispered, horrified.

He stood from where he had been kneeling by Natalie’s still form. “She’s one of us, now,” he told her wearily.

He was beginning to feel his own loss of blood. Janette seemed to notice, and quickly brought him a bottle. He downed it at once. “I had no choice,” he said, as he felt his strength returning. “She would have died.”

“I think she would have preferred that,” Janette told him plainly. “What happened?”

“I killed her,” he said, not without shame. “For what Divia told me. Only when I tasted her blood did I know that she hadn’t betrayed me. But by then it was too late. I’d drained her, but....” His voice trailed off.

Janette put a hand affectionately on his arm. “I know...you couldn’t bear to let her die.”

He shook his head, then straightened himself up, not comfortable letting his emotions show. “I want you to watch over her, Janette. I must find Divia--”

“And what will I tell Nicolas?”

He hesitated, remembering the fear in Natalie’s eyes, and how she had called for Nicholas. “Tell him...I’m truly sorry.”

Janette just looked at him.

His eyes were suddenly flaming red, his voice deep as he added, “And tell him that Divia will pay.”

He burst into her office, terrified by the fact that he sensed no heartbeat, heard no voices....

Blood was everywhere. And as he picked up the broken remnants of a glass vial, he saw the label which read, “Divia”.

It wasn’t Natalie’s blood.

But where the hell was she?!

Her bag was here. He looked inside quickly to find the gun he had given her. It had not been fired. He shoved it into his own pocket as he pulled out his cell phone, punching in her home number. It rang and rang. Impatiently, he dialed Janette’s private phone.

She answered at once.

“Janette, have you seen them?! Natalie’s gone!” He knew he was shouting out of panic.

“She’s here, Nicolas--”

Somehow he could not feel relieved. There was something in her voice....

“Janette, what’s happened to her?! Is she all right?”

“She will be. But I think you’d better get here as soon as possible.”

He hung up as he ran from the building, taking to the air, heedless of whether or not anyone had seen him lift off.

He made his way through the crowd to the back room. He hadn’t known what he would find, and his imagination had run wild. But the scene that met him was totally unexpected.

Janette lay on the floor, bruised and bloodied. Even as he ran to help her up, she seemed stunned, as if whatever had happened had taken place only moments before. “Nicolas...” Her voice was filled with pain, and he realized as she reached for her ribs that the bruises on her face, already beginning to heal, were probably the least of her injuries. Whoever had done this to her, had broken a few bones.

“Are you all right? What happened?” he asked as he led her to the couch. “And where’s Natalie?”

She looked up at him as if afraid to tell him. “It was Divia. She’s taken Natalie--”

“What?!” He felt as if he would lose his mind. “Janette, what the hell is going on? Where is she? Why did she take her? Where’s LaCroix?”

“Nick, you must calm down,” she told him, taking his hands. “I don’t know where Divia is...but LaCroix went to find her.”

He tried to contain his dread as he asked the question that had burned within him since he’d found her office empty. “What did he do to her?”

Janette hesitated.

“Janette, what did LaCroix do to Natalie?! Tell me!”

“Nick, he thought she’d betrayed him.” She paused, hating to see the anguish in his eyes, then said slowly, “He killed her...”

His heart rose up into his throat, choking him so that he could barely speak. “He what?!”

Janette’s eyes were full as sympathy as she explained, “He drained her. And then, when he realized that Divia had tricked him--he brought her over.”

Natalie. Dead. The agony had barely begun to sink in through the utter shock. And now...not dead...but not alive. Condemned to the same existence that he abhorred. Defiled. Robbed of her humanity.

He was too aghast to speak. But suddenly, he turned with Janette to see the lone figure enter the room.

LaCroix. He had done this. And the thought that a blood more precious than Nick’s own now ran through LaCroix’s veins was unbearable. It was unthinkable that he had tasted her blood on his lips...violated her...made her one of *his*....Nick’s fury rose up into his eyes, bathing everything in a crimson glow. He flew at LaCroix, grabbing him by the throat. “I’ll kill you for doing this to her!!” he cried, tightening his grip, his fangs extended.

LaCroix was weakened, Nick could tell. But even so, he pushed Nick off of him with little effort. Nick went flying, landing by Janette, who grabbed his arm.

“Stop it, both of you!” she cried.

But Nick tore away from her, knocking LaCroix to the ground, pinning him there. “Where is she?!” he growled. “I want to know where she is!”

“I left her here!” LaCroix snarled back at him, baring his fangs, his own eyes glowing. With an angry rap across the face, he sent Nick reeling backwards.

“LaCroix, stop it!” Janette shouted. “Divia’s taken Natalie!”

Nick could feel blood spurting from the side of his head, where he’d impacted against the floor. But his rage was uncontrollable. He would destroy LaCroix for what he’d done...for daring to touch her! He reached for the gun, eliciting no response from LaCroix whatsoever.

Then the shot rang out. And another. LaCroix was stunned as he fell back onto the floor.

“What did you do to him?!” Janette screamed, going to LaCroix’s side.

“Our friend seems to have supplied himself with wooden bullets,” LaCroix told her as she gingerly touched the blood that was pouring from the hole in his chest. “Go ahead, Nicholas. Finish the job if you must. But do you think you’ll destroy Divia so easily?”

Nick hesitated, still holding the gun on him. “You wanted her from the moment you saw her,” he accused, his eyes still blood-red with his rage.

“Not like this,” LaCroix said softly, for a moment betraying his total defeat. But then his face hardened with his own anger. “Divia did this to both of us, you fool. You fell for her trickery yourself. Now if you really think you can fight her alone, then kill me. But if you truly cared for Natalie, and wanted to find her as much as I do, then you’d realize that the only way we can fight Divia is if we join together!”

“I’ll destroy her,” Nick vowed. “I don’t need you!--”

“Nicolas, listen to him,” Janette said, putting herself between them.

“Get out of the way, Janette,” he warned, with contempt for her for protecting LaCroix.

“No,” she told him flatly. “Nick, you can’t defeat Divia. Even the two of us aren’t strong enough. But the three of us could. It’s the only way to bring Natalie back.”

He began to lower the gun, but still clutched it in his hand. Was Janette really willing to help him, stand up against Divia to save Natalie? “Janette, I can’t let him live after doing this...” he said, wishing she could understand.

“But you must. If for nothing else, Nicolas, because Natalie will need him.”

“She doesn’t need him!” he blustered, lifting the gun again. “I’ll take care of her...teach her what she needs to know....”

“And are you ready for that responsibility, Nicholas?” LaCroix asked him, struggling to lift himself up despite the gashes that were refusing to heal. “Can you handle it?”

“I’m prepared to do whatever I have to, to make this easier for her,” he replied.

“Think of Elizabeth,” Janette told him passionately. “And Natalie’s brother. If you can’t handle it...if you fail...are you also prepared to destroy her?”

He glared at her. The thought was abhorrent to him. He could never harm Natalie. But what if Janette were right? What if he couldn’t guide her...teach her...if she did go on a rampage as Richard had...if he couldn’t control her...what would he possibly do?

Nothing. He knew it in his heart. He would not have the will to destroy her. And no matter how he tried to convince himself that it would never come to that, his past failures glared at him. No matter what LaCroix was, what he had done...only he could teach Natalie, as he had taught Nick, and Janette.

The thought sickened him. But he wouldn’t risk her life, her soul, by avenging her now. Reluctantly, he placed the gun inside his jacket. “All right,” he agreed, as Janette sighed in relief and went to help LaCroix dislodge the bullets. “But understand this, LaCroix. She may need you to teach her. But she is not yours to control. You will never cause her any more pain than you already have. I’ll see to that.”

“I have no wish to control her,” LaCroix said tiredly, as his wounds began to close up, and Janette handed him a bottle of blood to replenish all he had lost. He seemed so distracted, and despite his ire, Nick suddenly felt that he was telling the truth--that LaCroix was a victim in all this, as much as he or Natalie had been. LaCroix’s eyes were blue once more as he shoved away the empty bottle. “I am truly sorry, Nicholas,” he said sincerely.

And in spite of himself, Nick nodded his acknowledgment. But he added bitterly, “You’ll have to tell Natalie that.”

LaCroix seemed seriously troubled as he replied with a faraway look, “Yes. I know.”

*Blood everywhere....and insatiable thirst. LaCroix’s fangs sinking into her...excruciating pain...*Nick, help me!*...the blood being drained from her... LaCroix’s wrist... sustenance... life... Richard warning her from the evil... LaCroix’s lips on hers... *No! Nick, where are you?!... Nick coming towards her... *I want you, Nick!*... her own fangs piercing his skin, tasting his blood...*

She awoke with the taste of his blood on her lips. What must it be like? She wanted to know! And as the last remnants of sleep gave way to full consciousness, the perversity of her own thoughts, her own urges, horrified her.

She was a vampire.

And she was thirsty.

Anger welled in her. LaCroix had done this! At the moment, bringing her over wasn’t the worst of it. She had chosen that. She remembered. She had wanted to come back. To be with Nick. To save him. And yet, it was a decision that should never have had to be made.

But LaCroix had killed her. And she was a fool for ever having trusted him. And what had he done to her now? She stood up abruptly, amazed at how clearly she could see in the pitch dark. She was in a room, sparsely furnished, with a small cot and no windows. The door... She reached to open it... It was locked. She had seen Nick do this so many times... she twisted with all her strength. The lock snapped. But it wouldn’t open.

Suddenly, she heard the bolts and chains that must be on the other side being slid open. She squinted as the door opened...the light seemed blinding. And as her vision cleared, her lips parted in shock.

“Divia...”

“Hello, Natalie. I trust you’ve rested well. It’s been almost a full day since you were...reborn.”

“I’m thirsty,” she said impulsively. Right now her need outweighed all else. “Do you have...cow’s blood?” she asked, finding it suddenly difficult even to think straight.

Divia laughed. “I’m afraid not. That’s Nicholas’ influence, I assume? You’ll never get strong on that swill.”

Natalie could feel her body starting to shake with her hunger. “All right...human...anything...in a bottle...”

Divia smiled with feigned kindness and shook her head. “No, Natalie. You can’t start like that.” She stepped away for a moment, then returned with a little boy, who couldn’t be more than eight or nine. His eyes were glazed, as if Divia had him in her thrall. She shoved the boy towards Natalie. “Go ahead. I brought this for you. Can’t you feel his heartbeat? Can’t you smell the blood flowing through his veins?”

Natalie knelt in horror to look into the child’s dead eyes. God help her, she could smell his blood, see the pulse on his tiny neck...

“Take him, Natalie. See how strong it will make you....”

She wanted him. She needed his blood. She could feel her own strength slipping away as it had when LaCroix had drained her. She wanted to live. She wanted to survive....

“Drink!” Divia urged her, her eyes flecked with gold.

*If the evil engulfs you...you too will be damned...* Richard’s words, and her vow to him, flooded her mind.

“No!” she cried in frustration, backing away from the child. “Never!”

Divia glared at her for a moment before scooping up the child and draining him. She tossed him aside in anger. “Would that have been so difficult?” she spat.

Natalie closed her eyes, willing herself the strength not to fall apart. When she opened them, she took a deep breath and said, “Yes. And I won’t do it. Ever. Now why are you holding me here? Where’s Nick? Where’s LaCroix?”

“Then starve,” she said vindictively, before slamming the door shut, bolting it once more. Natalie knew she’d pointedly ignored her questions. She was trying to break her.

“I won’t let you,” she whispered, then curled up on the cot, hoping that in sleep she could forget the hunger that was burning within her.

Nick paced the floor nervously, while Janette watched him in silence. “Where the hell can she be? It’s nearly dawn, and it’s been over two days!”

“Nick, there’s nothing we can do,” she said patiently. “I’ve had everyone searching for them all night.”

“So what does that mean, Janette? That they’ve left town?”

She stood to put her arms around him. “Nicolas, please, calm down. We’re trying our best. And you know Divia has to turn up sooner or later. She took blood with her, but only enough for a couple of days. She either has to come back here...”

“...or there’ll be another murder,” he finished. “I already checked with Schanke. There’s been nothing that remotely sounds like--”

“She’s very clever, Nick. Before, she was trying to draw you out. This time she’ll be careful to cover her tracks.”

He nodded, then kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you. For being here. For putting up with me the last two days.”

She smiled, patting him on the cheek. “You have been difficult. Not to mention that you could use a change of clothes and a shave.”

He returned her smile wearily. “And a good day’s sleep,” he said as he released her.

She went to her private bar, pulling out two bottles, pouring a glass from each. He accepted the cow’s blood, and drank it down quickly. He’d forgotten how thirsty he was. He glanced at the drink in her hand, but quickly looked away, guilty for the thought.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Do you want some?” she asked.

“You know I don’t--”

“I’m not trying to tempt you, Nicolas,” she assured him. “But you need your strength to fight Divia...”

“I’m fine,” he replied. His thoughts weren’t on Divia.

“You’re wondering about what she’s drinking...” Janette guessed. “If Divia’s giving her human blood...or forcing her to--”

“She won’t kill,” he said firmly. But she knew him too well not to hear the sliver of doubt in his voice.

“Nick, she’s young,” Janette reminded him as she refilled his glass. “You’re going to have to be patient with her. She may do things...you wouldn’t approve of. She may not be able to help herself.”

“I know,” he admitted. He simply hadn’t wanted to think about it.

“Try not to be hard on her...the adjustment will be difficult enough.”

He nodded, grateful for her reminder. He didn’t know how Natalie would react to what had happened...how she was reacting right now... Was she frightened? He remembered what Divia had done to Janette. Was Divia mistreating Natalie? Why was she holding her prisoner?

A terrifying thought struck him. “Janette...what if Divia doesn’t have Natalie. What if she...”

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t voice his worst fear...that Divia had destroyed her...left her out in the sun to die.... “I can’t lose her...” he whispered, wiping away the blood tear that had found its way to the corner of his eye.

“You won’t,” she promised him, squeezing his hand. “We’ll find her. After all...she is a part of our family now.”

The thought should have horrified him--that Natalie had become part of the world he despised. Yet Janette was right. They were all of the same blood now. And in a world where nothing was forever...this connection was the only lasting stability he had. And at this moment, it was more of a comfort than a curse. And knowing that Natalie would not grow old and die...would be with him until they found a cure...was the greatest consolation of all. It was selfish, he knew. And he hated himself for thinking it. Just as he hated himself for imagining what it would be like now to make love to her, to finally taste her blood....

He drank down his last glass of blood and sat on the couch. Janette was right. He needed sleep. He had to be ready. Natalie needed him. And this time, he would be there for her.

She awoke from blood-filled dreams, where she’d drunk the blood of innocents...relieved by the waking reality of her persistent thirst. Nightmares. Nightmare. Not real....

She lay back on the cot, trying to feel, as Nick did, the sun. Was it night? Was it day? How many nights and days had passed? She didn’t know. She couldn’t even think straight. She tried to focus her mind on anything--the months of the year, counting to 100...she made it to March, and stopped somewhere around fifteen. What was happening to her?

She was starving. And she was slowly losing her mind.

“Nick,” she sobbed, before curling back into a fetal position. Why didn’t he come? Was he still angry? Had they ever made up?

It was all a blur....and she was so, so weak....

The third night came and went. Nick’s stubble had begun to grow into a short beard. And his worry had grown into desperation.

“Don’t you sense anything?!” he was asking LaCroix frantically as they met back at the Raven. “You’re supposed to be connected...to both of them...” He hated even acknowledging LaCroix’s bond with Natalie, as her master. But it was a fact--and probably the only means now of tracking them.

“I feel her presence...but it’s so weak,” he responded in frustration, accepting the glass Janette handed him.

Nick took a deep breath. “Then at least we know...she’s still alive.”

“Yes,” LaCroix said, distracted.

“What is it?” Nick prodded, knowing he was holding something back.

LaCroix’s face was grim. “She’s weak. She probably hasn’t fed properly. At her young age that can be very dangerous.”

“What can happen?” Nick asked quietly.

“She could die...” he replied blandly. “Or go insane from the hunger.”

Nick felt the knot in his stomach tighten. “We’ve got to find her, LaCroix. I can’t--”

He stopped mid-sentence, as they all turned to see the presence that had entered the room.

Divia. Nick lunged at her in a frenzy, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Where the hell is she? What have you done to her?!”

“Nicholas!” LaCroix’s warning tone made him release her. He was right. They couldn’t hurt Divia, not without knowing what had become of Natalie. If they did, they might never find her. Yet his

grief and anxiety had made him crazed; his nerves would snap at any moment. But he knew that would serve no purpose. He felt LaCroix’s hand on his shoulder, and he backed away from Divia without a word.

“My, Nicholas, you look awful, my love,” she told him with a malevolent gleam in her eye.

“Where is she, Divia?” LaCroix growled.

“You’re new progeny?” she chided him cruelly. “Really, Father, you did surprise me. I thought for certain you would simply kill her.”

“For your lies?” he spat. “I never would have touched her if it hadn’t been for your trickery. You wanted me to kill her--what’s your game now?”

“Oh, I saw much better use for her,” she replied cryptically.

“Is she alive?” Nick broke in, tired of her circumvention.

“As alive as any of us,” she replied. “Although, quite difficult to train. I undertook her education myself--but she’s very strong-willed. She refuses to kill...so she’s gone quite hungry.”

Nick’s relief that she was alive, and that she had not taken a life, was overshadowed by his fear for her. “You mean you’ve starved her?!” he accused, his eyes gleaming deep amber.

“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly. “It’s a wonderful method of control.” She turned to LaCroix. “Wouldn’t you agree, Father? Do you remember when we used it on Nicholas, when *he* refused to kill?”

LaCroix’s face was like stone as he replied, “He was older--controlled. She’s a newborn vampire--you know how dangerous that can be!”

“Precisely,” she said smugly. “Which is why I know you’ll both agree to my terms.”

“And just what are your terms?” Nick hissed at her, his fangs bared.

She walked over to him, unperturbed by his fury, and put a hand on his cheek. “Very simple, my love. When I leave town tomorrow...you will come with me. As my companion. My lover.” She looked at LaCroix. “And you, Father, will be rewarded for your cooperation. I’ll give you back your precious Natalie. And with Nicholas gone, she’ll be yours. Entirely.” She smiled deviously. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

LaCroix glared at her. “You’re mad.”

“No, Father. I’m quite sane. And I know you. You desire her. And you have never deprived yourself anything. You wanted her. And you made her yours. I only provided an excuse for you to do it.”

She smiled triumphantly, glancing at Nick. “Now, you will have what you want, and so will I.”

LaCroix took a step towards her. “And what makes you think that either Nicholas or I will agree to this proposition of yours?” he asked disdainfully.

“*You* will because you want her. And *he* will because he loves her. He knows that she is young--weak--and I could destroy her at any time, if it so pleased me.” Her stare was hard as she added, “You can not protect her. You lived free for centuries because I permitted it. You know that, don’t you?”

LaCroix glowered at her silently. And as Nick studied his master’s reaction, he knew that it was true. LaCroix did fear her! For just as LaCroix had pursued him through the centuries, torturing him with his possessiveness, so had Divia pursued LaCroix. And she could again, if she so wished it. They were connected--just as LaCroix now shared a bond with Natalie. And through LaCroix, Divia would always be able to find her.

“I have no desire to interfere in your life, Father,” she said, her voice becoming deceptively kind. “It is Nicholas whom I desire. And he knows that as long as he remains with me, Natalie will be unharmed.” She turned her attention to Nick, who’d been listening silently. “So quiet, my love? Have you no opinion of my proposal?”

“I do,” he said with an edge of contempt in his voice. “But it would probably be in my best interest not to give it.”

“Well, I suppose your feelings on the matter aren’t that important,” she said with boredom. “It’s your decision I need.”

“Then you have it,” he said without hesitation. “I agree--as long as I see Natalie freed safely first.”

Janette looked at him wide-eyed. “Nicolas!”

Even LaCroix seemed stunned. “Nicholas, you can’t seriously go along with this--”

“Perhaps I should let you two discuss this--” Divia offered, obviously pleased that Nick had given in so easily. “Janette, would you mind finding me something to drink?” she asked with feigned politeness. It was really a command, and Janette knew it.

“Yes. Come with me,” Janette responded nervously, her eyes darting between Nick and LaCroix. Nick gave her a gentle nod which told her to occupy Divia as long as possible.

When the women had left, LaCroix turned to him in disbelief. “Nicholas, you can’t possibly trust her--”

“I don’t,” he replied. “But I don’t see that I have a choice. We have no idea where she’s keeping Natalie. She’s starving. We have to find her.”

LaCroix nodded grimly. “I know Divia. She certainly can’t believe that you’d be willing to go off with her and leave Natalie here with me.”

Nick tensed just at the thought of it. “I have no intention of leaving her in your hands for long,” he said with derision. “And Divia knows that. She knows she can’t keep me indefinitely. But she doesn’t want to. This is a lark for her. She’s like a child, looking for a temporary diversion.”

LaCroix agreed. “She *will* tire of you. And if it is her decision to let you go, she’ll have no interest in harming Natalie. But if you do try to escape from her--”

“I know,” he broke in grimly. “She’ll track you down...and destroy Natalie.”

LaCroix was silent for a moment, his expression one of discomfort as if he were searching for the right words. “Nicholas--I wish I could tell you that I could...safeguard her from Divia. But I can’t. Divia is relentless...and--”

“I know, LaCroix,” Nick said, betraying a tinge of compassion. He knew it was a difficult admission for LaCroix. Vulnerability was something alien to him. Nick almost felt sorry for him. Yet he could not help but add with bitterness, “I suppose she taught you well.”

LaCroix looked into his eyes as a moment of understanding passed between them. For once, each could understand the plight of the other. “I won’t hurt her, you know. I will take care of her until you return.”

Nick took a deep breath. Even the thought of leaving Natalie with him for a moment was excruciating. “I...appreciate that. But hopefully, it won’t ever get to that point.”

LaCroix looked at him questioningly. “I thought you were agreed to go with her?”

“I will go, as a last resort,” he replied blandly. “That’s only if our plan doesn’t work.”

LaCroix raised an eyebrow. “Plan?”

“Yes. We rescue Natalie--and then *you* rescue *me*.”

Nick had no time to wait for LaCroix’s response. They both turned at once as they sensed Divia and Janette returning. Divia carried a half-empty bottle of blood-wine in her hand, her eyes still amber from the enjoyment of her feast. Janette seemed relieved to be back in their presence. She carried a brown paper bag in her arms.

“Supplies. For Natalie,” she explained.

Nick nodded gratefully, giving her a slight smile.

“It’s human, Nick,” she told him. “I know how you feel about that, but she’s young; she needs it to grow strong.”

“I know. It’s okay,” he assured her, but Divia was shaking her head.

“I’m afraid she’ll need something much stronger than that. She’s totally lost control...and will possibly be quite mad from her thirst.”

Nick felt his rage welling within him, and fought to keep his fangs from extending as he replied, “What do you suggest?”

“She’ll need my blood,” LaCroix said dully, as if he knew the reaction he would elicit.

Nick was fuming. “I will *not* stand by while you--!”

“Nicolas, it could be the only thing to bring her out of it,” Janette told him gently. “You must think of what’s best for Natalie now. At this early stage, she could lose her mind from the hunger. He’s connected with her. He’s the only one who can get through to her. Blood alone won’t do it.”

He breathed deeply to suppress his outrage. He knew she was right. But he didn’t know how he would be able to watch the intimate exchange. “Let’s go, then,” he said in clipped tones. He indicated the bag. “But bring that--just in case.”

“Are you sure you want to go now?” Divia asked. “It’s less than two hours before sunrise--”

“Now.” This time he could not prevent his eyes from glowing as red as the coming dawn.

Together they flew to the outskirts of town, where Divia had rented an old townhouse. The property was secluded, and way off the beaten path. Even if Natalie had been able to escape, she never would have found her way back to Toronto.

Natalie. Nick could swear his heart quickened at the thought of seeing her again. But he knew he’d have to brace himself for the worst. She was a vampire now. A starving, possibly frenzied, vampire. Not the same as she had been. Yet he knew that even the evil LaCroix had inflicted upon her could not change her spirit, her heart. She would still be the Natalie he loved.

Bringing her back to health would be the least of their problems. How would she adjust? And what would he do if he did have to leave her? LaCroix wouldn’t harm her. But Nick couldn’t live apart from her. Not now. Not when she needed him so....

He’d kill Divia before he’d part from Natalie.

But first...to find her. “Where is she?” he growled impatiently as Divia let them into the house. It had been furnished before she’d moved in, but she’d taken the time to install thick blinds to keep out the sunlight. Good. They might find themselves spending the day here.

Divia passed through the house, expecting the other three to follow. She led them down a hallway to a room heavily bolted and chained. Nick strained to hear her. But there was nothing.

“It’s soundproof,” she told him. “I’m told a musician lived here. He had it insulated so no one could hear him practice late at night.” She smiled malevolently. “Her screams would have kept me awake. It was a perfect place to keep her.”

Nick felt LaCroix’s hand on his shoulder. It kept him from ripping Divia from the door and barging inside. His entire body tensed for the eternity it took her to open the bolts....

The door swung open, bathing the tiny room in light. She’d kept her in total darkness! They stepped in, seeing no one...

She was crouched on the floor, blinded suddenly by the light. Nick took in a breath as he saw her. Her eyes were flaming red, her expression that of a crazed animal. Her fangs were extended, blood dripping from her lips where she had bitten herself. She looked at them without recognition. And suddenly, as her vision cleared, her hunger registered prey. She lunged at them.

LaCroix reached out to grab her¸ holding her struggling form at arm’s length, trying to catch her eyes with his own. Nick stepped towards them in agony, wanting to take her into his arms...but Janette held him back. God, Janette had been right! Only LaCroix’s blood could bring her out of this....

In anguish, he watched as LaCroix forcefully but gently brought Natalie’s face to his neck. It was instinct now. Pure hunger. LaCroix’s face betrayed no more than discomfort as she ripped into his flesh, feeding as she never had, but as her new nature told her she must. Nick wanted to close his eyes. He didn’t want to see her like this. He didn’t want to see her with *him*. But he had to. It was his own fault that this horrific fate had befallen her. His love had done this to her. He was just as guilty as LaCroix.

Natalie’s hunger had abated. Carefully, LaCroix pulled her from him. She was calm now. Yet still so far away... She let LaCroix take her face in his hands, look into her eyes....

....and suddenly, recognition. Slowly, she backed away from him, as if in terror, her lips parting even as she tasted the blood that still lingered. With a shaking hand, she covered her mouth as she realized what had just happened. Her eyes opened wide as she retreated. “Get away from me!” she said hoarsely, putting her hands out as if to keep him at a distance.

LaCroix was motionless. He had expected this. And as he stepped aside, letting Janette take his arm, he softly said, “Nicholas...go to her...”

But Natalie was backing away from all of them. Seeing that Nick was there, that he had witnessed this all, served only to intensify her horror.

“Nat, it’s okay. It’s me,” he said, making his way toward her.

Her eyes filled with blood tears. “No, Nick. Don’t look at me,” she said in a pain-filled voice, as she attempted to turn her face away. “I don’t want you to see me like this...”

“It’s okay” he said, his voice filled with emotion as he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay.”

She was still too weak to resist. She collapsed in his arms, sobbing.

“It’s going to be all right now,” he told her, caressing her hair, kissing her cheek. “You’re safe now.” He looked over to Divia. “I want a few minutes alone with her,” he told her.

Divia seemed to hesitate, not particularly thrilled to see the scene before her.

“Come on, Divia. What’s ten minutes?” he snapped.

“Ten minutes, Nicholas. And then...we leave.”

He didn’t answer, hugging Natalie to him as the door closed, leaving them in darkness. It didn’t matter what Divia said. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not now that he held her in his arms....

For a long moment he held her tightly, smoothing her tousled hair, kissing her on the cheek. Natalie clung to him, afraid to let go. This was real, wasn’t it? Not another delusion of her hunger?

“I’m sorry, Nat,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “If I’d never come into your life, this never would have happened.”

She looked up into his eyes, in wonder at the perfect detail she could see even in the dark. He seemed so tired, as if all his emotion had been spent. His gaze locked with hers, as he caressed her cheek.

“I love you,” he said tenderly.

“Nick, how can you even stand to look at me...be close to me...after seeing *that*?” She could hear the self-hatred in her own voice, and she couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t utterly disgusted with what she had become, what she had done....

A moment’s pain flashed through his eyes...but it was sadness, and not the revulsion she had feared. “I had to let you feed from him, Nat...You were too far gone...it was the only way....” He took her face in his hands. “Forgive me, Nat. Please.”

“No...you were right,” she told him. “I never should have trusted him...I was so stupid! This is all my fault...”

He silenced her with his kiss. Natalie met his lips hungrily, drinking in the new warmth....Before he had seemed so cool, but now she could feel the heat emanating from him. And what had been new and exciting before now took on increased dimensions as he filled her newfound senses with his touch, his scent, his taste....

She could feel her eyes burning as he separated from her, and she suspected it was more than her tears.

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” he said.

It had all happened so quickly, but now as her head began to clear, she remembered Divia’s words. “Nick, what did she mean...about “leaving”...?”

She could sense his hesitation, and asked again, suddenly afraid. “Nick, tell me...”

“Nat, we’ve been looking for you for two days. We couldn’t find you. And Divia came to us with a deal--she would take us to you, and let you go--”

“What did you have to give her?” she asked, fearing the worst.

He let out a breath. “I had to promise that I would leave with her.”

Her eyes opened wide. “What?! Nick, you can’t be serious!”

“It was the only way, Nat. She’s powerful. Even LaCroix fears her. He knows I expect him to help me fight her; and I *will* fight her. But if he doesn’t join me--”

“He has to. And Divia must know that--”

He shook his head. “She knows...how he feels about you. She promised to turn you over to him if I would go with her--”

Her eyes were ablaze with fury. “You *agreed* to that?! To *turn me over* to *him*?!”

“I had no choice, Nat!” he cried. “She was starving you! I had to find you! And I would have killed him for what he’d done if Janette hadn’t stopped me! But whether I like it or not, there are things you have to learn from him to survive--”

“I don’t want anything from him! *You* can teach me!”

“Like I taught Richard?” he countered, his face riddled with guilt. And she knew at once, understood, how terrified he was that he would fail with her, as he had failed with her brother. Immediately he realized what he had said, and regretted it. He had no way of knowing what she had seen. “Nat, I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” she said quietly.

“He won’t hurt you,” he said. “Divia tricked him into...what he did. He knows it. That’s why he brought you over.”

“So I’m supposed to stand by...” she said bitterly.

“Nat, I won’t let her hurt you. No matter what I have to do.”

“And if you do have to go off with her...how long...?”

He sighed. “She’s a child, looking for a diversion. It won’t be long before she grows bored--”

“And how long is ‘not long’ for a vampire? A Week? A century? I’m still living on mortal time, Nick--”

“I don’t know,” he responded helplessly.

“I won’t let her take you from me,” she told him angrily. “If I have to kill her myself.”

She could see the shadow pass over his face to hear her talk this way. But she didn’t care. LaCroix, Divia--all of them--had destroyed their lives. It had to stop. “I’ll do it, Nick,” she reaffirmed.

Now, it was fear that crossed his eyes. “Nat, you’re too young--too weak. Please, don’t even try. Promise me, you’ll let me and LaCroix--”

“And if he won’t?” she challenged, though her voice was shaking.

He didn’t have time to answer. Suddenly the door was pulled open, and Divia stood there watching them. “Time’s up, Nicholas. We *do* have to be going. It’s less than fifteen minutes until dawn. I have a car waiting outside--with appropriately tinted windows of course.”

Natalie threw him a glance to see his reaction, wanting an answer to her question. But his face had turned to stone. The only emotion he conveyed was in the way he squeezed her hand as he took it, leading her from the room.

LaCroix and Janette were studying them, studying *her*. She nodded to Janette, refusing to meet LaCroix’s eyes even as Nick brought her over to him.

“Come on, Nicholas. You’ve already had your good byes.” Divia’s impatience was evident.

His emotionless facade broke as he looked into Natalie’s eyes. And she knew that for all his protestations that everything would be all right, he was afraid. For her. For them. He didn’t really believe that LaCroix would help him defeat Divia. And he knew that if he attempted it alone, he might very well be the one destroyed. She felt blood tears rising to her eyes even as he took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. He didn’t tell her it would be all right this time. She knew he couldn’t bring himself to.

He turned to LaCroix as he released her. “You’ll take care of her...no matter what?”

LaCroix nodded emotionlessly. “You have my word.”

Natalie didn’t like the ‘no matter what’. She knew what that meant. If he were to not survive attacking Divia....

She watched Nick walk slowly towards the door, where Divia waited, a triumphant grin on her face. She took a step forward, but LaCroix placed a restraining hand on her arm. She spun around to face him for the first time, fury in her eyes. “Do something!” she mouthed angrily.

He shook his head slowly. “I can not,” he said softly.

Enraged, she looked back as Divia opened the door, and Nick stood in the doorway, looking back at her over Divia’s shoulder. Divia’s smile of satisfaction was infuriating, as she said to LaCroix, “Enjoy her, Father. I’m sure you’ll agree you made a quite favorable trade--”

Her words were cut off as suddenly Nick sank his teeth into her neck. He meant to drain her! Divia struggled in his grasp, but he held her tightly, his eyes red with his rage as he drank from her....

Suddenly, Divia threw him off, and he went sprawling. Natalie gasped as she heard bones snap. In a moment Divia was on top of him, snarling at him wildly. Natalie fought to break free of LaCroix’s hold on her, but he held her steadily. “Let go!” she cried. “Nick!”

“Keep her away, LaCroix!” Nick shouted, as he struggled to push Divia off of him.

“Don’t worry, Nicholas!” Divia hissed. “Your little whore will be next!”

Nick’s right hand slammed against her face, and Divia fell off him, stunned. But as he tried to lift himself up, he found his left arm useless. It had broken in the fall, and would take hours to heal. Instead, he flew up at her, reaching for her neck.

Divia threw him across the room with an evil laugh, and moments later hovered over him once more. Natalie could see that he looked dazed, and with alarm realized that blood was pouring from the side of his head. Divia dipped her fingers into his blood and licked them. “It would have been sweet, my love,” she said with contempt, as her mouth opened over his neck.

With strength she didn’t yet know she had, Natalie pulled from LaCroix’s grasp, propelling herself at them without even realizing that she was in flight. Grabbing Divia by the hair, she jerked back her head even as her fangs grazed the skin of Nick’s neck.

Natalie didn’t see Divia’s hand come towards her face. She only saw the fury in her eyes as she turned to face her, then felt the impact against her temple that sent her tumbling backwards. But the stars that clouded her vision didn’t matter now. All she knew was that she had to help him, even if it meant fighting blindly to her own death.

“So this is the loyalty you teach your progeny, Father?” Divia spit at him. “Then I shall enjoy destroying them all!”

Natalie struggled to lift herself up, to ignore the throbbing in her head. She had to get to them...she had to stop her. As if in slow motion, she saw Divia lower her head to Nick once more, her fangs poised to strike.

Suddenly, a black flash. It was LaCroix! With fury he pulled Divia away from Nick, throwing her across the room. Divia shot back at him, her eyes flaming with rage, her hands around his neck. But suddenly Nick was there, pulling her away from LaCroix.

LaCroix’s eyes met Nick’s for a brief moment. Then, as Nick held her tightly with his good arm, LaCroix sank his teeth into her neck.

Divia was struggling, but the two men had her tightly in their grasp. Suddenly, a shaft of blinding light filled the room. Natalie strained to see, but realized in horror that the sunlight had begun to prickle her skin. Strong hands pulled her back into the protection of shade.

“Natalie, stay covered...don’t look at the light!”

Janette. She’d raised the blinds as the sun had risen! Natalie gratefully covered her skin beneath the cape Janette had thrown over her. But she had to look...she had to see....

Blurred shadows. LaCroix and Nick, holding the struggling, weakened form in the direct rays of the sun, protected themselves only by the fact that they stood just outside its reach. Smoke was rising. Was it from her? Was it from them? Was it from *her*? Suddenly, the struggling form went limp, and the two men fell into the shadows.

Janette hurried to the shades, shutting them tightly. Natalie pulled herself up, throwing off the cape as Nick ran to her. “Nick?” she asked uncertainly. Still so hard to see....

“I’m here, Nat, I’m here,” he assured her, wrapping her in his arms. “It’s over,” he whispered, kissing her. “It’s over.”

“Are your eyes all right?” Nick was asking with concern.

She nodded as his features became sharper, and his blue eyes smiled at her. “What about you? I heard bones cracking...” She ran her hands along his left arm, trying to assess the damage she knew would heal itself anyway. “It looks like it’s broken in two places...” She gasped as she saw his right hand, charred black. She held it between her own. “I wish I had something to treat this with--”

“It’ll be fine by tonight,” he reassured her. “We’re not going anywhere ‘til nightfall.”

“What about the car Divia had outside?”

He shook his head. “You’re too young. You couldn’t take the sunlight.”

And it hit her again, as it had when the sunlight had prickled her skin. The reality that she was immortal, but not invulnerable. Even the things Nick had learned to tolerate in his eight hundred years could kill her easily. An involuntary shudder ran through her body. Nick seemed to notice, for he slipped his arm around her again, kissing her on the cheek.

Janette came up to them just then. “I think we could all use a rest. There are bedrooms on this floor, and upstairs--all with the windows properly insulated.”

Nick smiled at her gratefully. “Janette, if you hadn’t pulled open those shades--”

“You saved me, too,” Natalie added. “Thank you.”

Janette nodded her acknowledgment. “All our lives will be a lot easier now that she’s gone.”

“And she can’t come back?” Natalie asked, still not ready to relax completely.

“No,” Nick told her. “She’s nothing but ashes.”

They looked to the spot where Divia had been, where LaCroix knelt now, letting a handful of ash slip through his fingers. His face was emotionless, but Natalie knew his thoughts must be light years, or millennia away....Perhaps he was remembering the day Divia had made him...or recalling the little child who had been his, the daughter before she had become the master. She looked at Nick, and he nodded to her, as they walked over to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up, almost startled to see her there.

“Are you all right?” she asked. A needless question perhaps. His charred hands would heal, and even the pain of what he had had to do might diminish with time. But it was Natalie’s way of showing that despite her anger for what he had done to her, he *had* saved Nick. Saved them all. And for that he deserved her thanks.

He stood to face her. “We all have to make choices, do we not? One child destroyed, to save the others.”

She could see his grief, and yet beyond that was a calm resignation, the inner peace of having made the right decision.

“Thank you, LaCroix,” Nick said, his words heart-felt.

His master shook his head, his expression benevolent. “No. It’s all right, Nicholas. Because now, we’re all free.” He looked into Natalie’s eyes. “I can’t eradicate what I did to you--but I can give you that.”

She nodded her understanding, then reached to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

LaCroix smiled ever so slightly; what he had done to her had weighed heavily upon him. He needed her forgiveness. “Well, I really must retire,” he said finally. He took a bottle that Janette handed him, and bid them all good night, heading for the bedroom right off the parlor, and closing the door.

“This was difficult for him,” Janette said with real sympathy. “As much as she made eternity difficult for him--he loved her.”

Nick nodded silently, and Natalie knew that he was considering his own bond with LaCroix--tormentor, teacher...father. A relationship more complex than any human could understand. Something she was just beginning to fathom herself.

They secured the front door, and started upstairs. Janette handed them each a bottle of blood before retiring to a room on the second floor. Natalie began to look for an empty room, but Nick tugged on her hand, a mischievous look on his face as he led her up another flight.

The top floor of the townhouse was like a small apartment, with a master bedroom, bath, and kitchenette. Natalie led him into the bathroom, and he let her clean his wounds. But impatience overtook him, and he took the cloth from her hand, setting it aside. “I’ve waited too long for this,” he said softly, as he began to kiss her deeply.

Natalie kissed him hungrily, relishing in his warmth, his taste, his scent...It was all so different now, so much more intense with her heightened senses...just as intense as the arousal that he awakened in her, the need for his kiss, his touch...his blood....

She pulled away from him in horror, just as her teeth had begun to graze his neck. “Oh my God,” she whispered in anguish as she saw her reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t her, but a monster, an aberration...and she had almost....

She turned away from him, running into the bedroom, grabbing one of the bottles of blood. She ripped the cork out with her teeth, and began drinking ravenously, each swallow bringing blood tears to her eyes as she realized what she was doing. But she had to finish it, had to make it go away....

Nick watched her with a pained expression on his face. *He must be horrified!* she thought in agony as she drained the last drop from the bottle. And suddenly Nick was there, taking the bottle gently from her, running his hand through her hair. “It’s okay, Nat--”

“No, it’s not okay! It’s never going to be okay again!” she cried, finding it difficult to speak without cutting her own lips. “Make it go away!” she pleaded in a small voice, her eyes burning.

“I can’t,” he said softly, as if it broke his heart.

She fell into his arms, letting him hold her. Had she ever really understood his helplessness, his torment, until now? Only the knowledge that he truly knew what she was feeling comforted her. “It’s going to be all right, Nat. You’ll learn to control it,” he said, caressing her cheek. “I know some things in your life will have to change--”

She pulled away to look into his eyes. “Everything is changed,” she said bitterly.

“Not the way I feel about you,” he told her with passion.

“How can you say that?” she asked, still feeling the burning in her eyes.

“Because it’s true. And because I’m going to be here to help you--”

“Why, out of guilt? Because you think this is your fault--?”

“No. Because I love you.”

She wanted to believe him. Yet all the doubts that the last few weeks and months had brought came rushing back. “You *loved* the person I was--my humanity.”

“I’ve learned humanity has little to do with mortality,” he told her plainly. “Nat, you’re still the same woman I fell in love with. Nothing can change that.”

“But I’m a *vampire* now,” she pointed out, though she felt her features had returned to normal. And she had to say it, say what had been on her mind for days, though she hated the utter jealousy that she betrayed. “Nick, what makes me any different now to you than Janette?”

“You’re the one I want to be with,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Whether we’re vampires searching for a cure, or mortals. Whether I have a lifetime or an eternity, I want to spend it with you, Nat.” He paused, fear in his eyes, as if a sudden thought had struck him. “Natalie, do you...feel differently...about me?”

She was stunned by his question. “No, of course not.”

He looked down. “I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. Ultimately, it is my fault this happened to you.”

She shook her head, and took a deep breath. “Nick, there’s something you should know. I chose to come back. I came back from the light, even though I knew what LaCroix would do to me.” She paused as he looked back at her, searching his eyes. “Nick, I chose to be this.”

He hesitated but a second, before saying, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to live. With being scared to die. How could I condemn you for making the same choice I did?”

“Because you hate yourself for making that choice,” she reminded him.

He shrugged it off, as if the circumstances were different completely. “Tell me what happened to you there. Why did you decide to come back?”

She hesitated. She hadn’t wanted to ever tell him that she had chosen to come back for his sake. She couldn’t burden him with that. Yet she needed him to know that she hadn’t been a victim in all this--that she had made the choice. Until she admitted that to him, and he forgave her for that, she would always feel some wall of secrecy between them. And he would always carry the guilt of what had ultimately been her decision.

“I saw Richard there,” she began, wanting him to know this too. “He was at peace, Nick. He’d atoned for what he’d done, and he was at rest.” She saw the light in his eyes, and knew that this knowledge offered him the tiniest shred of hope. “He wanted me to join him, and my parents, and my sister, in the light...and I wanted to. I really wanted to....”

A flash of sadness passed through his face. That she had lost her opportunity to go into the light? Or that she had almost gone and left him?

He took her hand and squeezed it. “I did almost lose you, then,” he said in a broken voice, answering her silent question. “What made you...?”

“He said you would be lost if I didn’t come back. He said I could save you...”

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he looked at her again, his expression was one of pain. “My God, Nat--you came back to this...for me?”

“Nick, I wanted to. He gave me hope that there is a cure...a way for us both to get back....”

“You wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for me!” he cried in frustration.

“Look, if you want me to believe that you still feel the same about me, then you’ve got to stop feeling guilty. I made the choice. It was my decision. I don’t need you to feel responsible--” she told him flatly, then added, “or stay with me because you think you owe me something!”

“I’m with you because I love you! I’ve told you that already! But you can’t blame me for feeling like this is all my fault.”

“What’s done is done, Nick,” she said with resignation. “I just need to know where we go from here.”

He sighed, and took her face into his hands. “We go *on*, Nat. Together.” He kissed her deeply once more, then looked into her eyes. “He was right, you know. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come back to me.”

Relief, and love, were all that she saw in him now. No disdain for what she had chosen to do. Even his guilt over having brought her to this had given way to his contentment at having her with him. And as their lips met again, she was unafraid. For the first time since they’d admitted their love, there was no reason to be afraid. There were no more limits, no more boundaries between them. And the realization was intoxicating.

This time, she let herself give in completely to the passions within her, losing herself in his kiss, the warm touch of his hands on her own cool flesh, and the heat of his mouth as he tasted her, explored her. How long had she wanted him like this? How long had she imagined what it would be like for their bodies to meld in this exquisite union? And yet as the arousal coursed through her body, and she clung to him in their passion, there was something more that she needed...a joining even more intimate than this, if that were possible....

She looked up into his red eyes, and saw the reflection of her own desire. “How?” she breathed between the kisses that left her breathless. He smiled down at her, his own fangs bared, and turned his head slightly, offering her his neck....

It was instinct now. She tasted him with her tongue, feeling the pulse of his veins, the blood beneath as inviting as the body that now moved in beautiful rhythm with hers. And as she pierced his flesh, tasting the warm flow, she shivered with joy. This was Nick. This was his very being. And she could feel the intimacies of his soul, see the visions of his past...and she knew his thoughts, his feelings...his love, as strong as he had sworn it to be, as deep as her own. It was real. It was undeniable. And she would never again doubt him. She drank until she could feel him telling her that it was enough...and his moan of pleasure rang in her ears as his life essence filled her.

His lips covered hers, even though his own blood still lingered. Then, as his mouth moved to her neck, she gasped with anticipation, as he licked her, prepared her....

There was no pain as his teeth sank into her flesh...only the pinnacle of intense pleasure that had been building from the moment he’d begun to make love to her. She cried out softly as he drank from her, holding him against her trembling body, running her fingers through his hair, holding him against her to let him know that he could take from her whatever he needed, whatever he wanted....

His lips made their way back to hers, and he pulled away finally to look down at her with smiling eyes that were their normal crystal blue. “I love you,” he whispered, although his words could never tell her as fully as his blood had. “Natalie...it’s never been like that for me...with anyone....”

She smiled at him tenderly. She believed him. She had felt that too. And she knew it would be pointless to tell him that no man had ever loved her like this, could ever compare....

She told him with her kiss.

And as she fell asleep in his embrace, she knew that he had been right. A lifetime or an eternity. It didn’t matter. As long as they were together....

Epilogue

They’d awoken before nightfall, made love again, then showered together and dressed. The horror of the last few days had ended in an idyllic night that could not last forever. The real world awaited. And with it, the challenges of a new life.

“It’s scary, you know,” she told Nick, as he rubbed her shoulders. “I mean, how am I supposed to work with all that blood, without--”

“It’ll just take some time,” he promised her. “You’re going to have to take a few days off. Get your strength. Work on your control...”

She turned around to face him with a seductive smile. “I have very little control when you’re around,” she said, touching his neck lightly.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he told her, kissing her forehead. “Because I’m not leaving your side until I know you’re going to be all right.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer. “And even after that, you’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me.”

He began to kiss her again, until the unwelcome sound of his cellular phone ringing interrupted. “Ignore it,” he whispered. But it was insistent. He sighed and reached over to the nightstand. “My fault for turning it on. But by now they probably have APBs out on both of us....Knight here. Oh, Grace. Hi. No, she’s fine. Don’t worry. Here she is--”

He handed her the phone, mouthing a plea to make it quick. She nodded as she said, “Hi, Grace. No, I’m sorry I worried you all. It was a family emergency, and I didn’t have time to call in--”

She knew it sounded lame, but she’d have to think up a better story later. She knew she’d be inventing many explanations in the days to come.

“*I nearly had a heart attack when I saw that blood on the floor! Thank God I realized it came from those broken vials--*”

Natalie’s drew in a breath. *Divia’s blood*! “Grace, did you happen to notice if all those vials were broken? The ones marked Divia?”

“*It looked like four of them, I think,*” she replied. “*I found two others with the same label, but I couldn’t figure out what case they belonged to--*”

“What did you do with the other two?” she asked, trying not to scream in impatience.

“*I put them in cold storage; they were still okay. The blood on the floor was fresh, so I must have come in right after you left. I figured you’d take care of them when you came back. Do you need anything done with them?*”

“No, that’s okay,” she said, trying to contain her excitement. “Just don’t let anyone touch them. Look, Grace, I’ve gotta go. I’ll be in in a couple of days. Take care.”

“Well, well--” Nick prodded as she hung up. “Tell me!”

“Two of the vials are still there. Nick, LaCroix didn’t destroy them all. We still have a sample of Divia’s blood! Do you know what that means?!”

He took her into his arms, looking into her eyes with more hope than she had ever seen there. “It means your brother was right,” he told her tenderly, before sweeping her into his arms for a long, deep kiss.

He hadn’t been able to sleep. Images of Divia, and her agonizing death at his own hands, haunted him. Even Selene had come to him, her mortal mother, the woman whose love had produced this child. Had she ever really been a child? Had she ever ceased to be one? It was all irrelevant now. She was gone. And he had done what he’d had to.

He’d owed it to them, to his other children. To his lovely Janette, always so vulnerable and frightened by Divia’s power. To Nicholas, whose anger and spirit had made him LaCroix’s favorite childe. And to Natalie, beautiful Natalie, the innocent in all this. He had brutally robbed her of her life, and given her a gift she considered condemnation. All for Divia’s trickery. He’d had to avenge Natalie. Give her that satisfaction. Give her her Nicholas....

LaCroix knew they were together. He didn’t have to see them make love, or hear their soft whispers to know that they had finally found the union that had eluded them. And though it was excruciating to think of her with him, wanting her himself, he smiled to know that at least he had given Natalie the one thing she’d wanted.

The ability to love Nicholas.

And though he could not see them, he could sense them both. Sense their joy, their love, their peace. In giving them that, perhaps he could find his own.

After all, they were his children.

The sun set, and he crept slowly downstairs. A note from Janette said she had already left for the Raven. One last task was yet to be done. He knelt by the spot where Divia had been....

...and found nothing.

He turned at once as he sensed Nicholas and Natalie behind him. “Did you...spread her ashes?” he asked, rising.

“No,” Nick told him. “Could it have been Janette?”

LaCroix became thoughtful. “Perhaps,” he murmured.

“LaCroix, there’s something you have to know,” Natalie began, looking at him with a serious expression. “There are two vials of Divia’s blood left at my office.” She paused, as if waiting for a reaction. “You do know I’m going to try to find a cure.”

He nodded. “I would be surprised if you didn’t. And disappointed if you didn’t try.”

Natalie gave him a smile. Nick’s look was more of puzzlement.

“Some things are inevitable, Nicholas,” he explained, without wanting to elaborate. For all his protestations, it would take Nicholas a while to adjust to his freedom. And he to his.

“But until that day, you will need training,” he said, turning back to Natalie. “There are things you must learn--”

“Nick will teach me,” she broke in, looking suddenly uncomfortable. LaCroix didn’t fail to notice the subtle way Nicholas’ hand had grasped hers, protectively, comfortingly.

“Of course,” he said, emotionlessly, feeling just as awkward as she. Could he really work with her, be so close to her, without betraying the intensity of the feelings he still had for her? probably not. And yet would staying away from her diminish their connection?

No.

“We are connected, you know,” he said gently. “If you are in pain...if you need me. I will sense it. And I will be there for you.”

She nodded her understanding. “I know,” she replied softly. “I know.”

So much more he wanted to say. So much guilt to assuage, so much forgiveness he craved. But enmeshed with all this, was the desire to hold her, to kiss her. A desire that would remain unfulfilled, were they to live an eternity. And the part of his heart that had opened up once more, risked pain to love and trust, now shrank back into the recesses of his soul.

And as he bid them good bye, and flew off into the night, he could only admonish himself for his own weakness.

Never again.

And yet somehow, he knew that loving her, that all that had happened, had changed him.

Forever.