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"Okay, Mulder, this must be it, St. Lawrence Hall. Turn right onto Jarvis."
Scully was sitting in the passenger seat of the rental car, holding a map of Toronto.
Today was her turn to navigate. She pointed to an elegant classically-columned building
that sat in a tree-filled plaza. The slanting rays of the setting sun illuminated its delicate
green oxidized-copper dome.
Her partner obediently turned at the intersection. "What is that, a government
office or something?"
"I think Knight told me it was an old City Hall. Now they rent it out for banquets
and stuff. Okay, now this is that Market building he told us about..."
Across the street from St. Lawrence Hall, on their right, was a long brick shed-
like structure with a shallow pitched roof.
"That's the Farmers Market?" Mulder asked.
"I think so...okay, keep going straight here until the street called Esplanade...
then turn left..."
The FBI agents followed the rest of the directions until they were in a waterfront
neighborhood dominated by high-rise apartment buildings and converted warehouses and
factories. What had once been a somewhat seedy waterfront was now a cheerful
residential area, with the ubiquitous CN Tower visible in the background. Like most of
Toronto that they'd seen, it was very clean and well-kept, with plenty of trees and foliage
to relieve the concrete. For once, the neighborhood was not dominated by Victorian
architecture, but more functional, unadorned rectilinear structures. After a few more
twists and turns, they reached a large L-shaped converted industrial building, with a
wrought-iron fence around an inner courtyard.
"This is it," Scully pronounced. "There's Knight's car." The bilious green vintage
Cadillac was parked right in the courtyard. They pulled in beside it. Then, they emerged
and passed a couple of large garage doors, arriving at a small doorway nestled in the
inner corner of the "L". They found Nicholas Knight's name on the doorbell, and were
buzzed in.
They reached his apartment by means of a tremendous service elevator. When
its massive metal slab of a door slid back, the FBI agents walked directly into the detective's
spacious abode.
The main floor of the apartment was all one large room; the walls were chiefly
brick. To their left, a small kitchen area was designated by a sink, counter and stove next
to a large pantry-closet door. Before it were some chairs around a narrow table; a lone
mug with what appeared to be black coffee sat there, next to an open newspaper. To the
right, a motorcycle leaned against the wall beside the elevator, and a huge grand piano
nestled comfortably in the corner, with plenty of space around it.
Beyond these, a living room area was indicated by a couch and some chairs
placed around a rug; the focal point of this arrangement was a tremendous antique
wooden fireplace mantle that extended halfway up to the high ceiling. It was elaborately
carved with scrollwork and whimsical human figures. Flanking the fireplace were the
windows, covered so completely by opaque metal shutters that no daylight entered at all -
- it was impossible to tell that it was sunset outside. Various electric lamps were on,
though, and the room was quite well-illuminated.
On the chamber's other side, an open staircase with painted red metal railings led
up to a mezzanine that took up half the apartment's upper airspace. From where they
stood, Scully couldn't tell what was up there, but she surmised it was the bedroom. In the
alcove under the staircase, she could see a beautiful wooden armoire, also elaborately
carved, and a metal table with rolled-up canvases and other sundry items. Several more
canvases, stretched out and painted, leaned against the wall next to the wardrobe.
Across the room from her, Detective Nicholas Knight, wearing an old-fashioned
silk dressing gown, stood by a huge, expensive-looking television with a high-tech
rectangular screen (one of those new High Definition televisions, she supposed). The
evening news was on.
"Detective Knight," Scully said apologetically, "We're sorry to impose on you
before you start your shift..."
"Oh, it's quite all right," the detective said, graciously waving them towards him.
"I've been awake a while. I was catching up on the media's coverage of these beheadings."
He turned off the set with a remote. Now that she was closer, Scully could see the TV
rested against another staircase leading upstairs, this one roughly perpendicular to the
first. In that spot was also a bookcase containing an elaborate stereo and a large CD
collection. Single men and their entertainment systems, Scully thought with amusement.
"Well, you see," she told the detective. "We wanted to talk to you alone; we
didn't want the 'Anti-Terrorists' or anyone else to hear..."
Mulder left her side and began wandering around the apartment, peering closely
at the apartment's bric-a-brac. He paused before a statue that stood next to the fireplace.
About three feet tall, it was a medieval female figure standing in a graceful s-curve.
"Nice stuff you have here, Knight. How can you afford all these objets d'art?"
Scully scowled at Mulder's boorish question -- though she had been wondering
about the large number of antiques herself.
Knight was unruffled. "Oh, these things are heirlooms. I come from an old
family that's fallen on hard times. These pieces are just about all that's left of our collection."
"The fireplace is quite lovely," Scully said.
"And I see you paint," Mulder observed, looking towards the working area
under the stairs. "And play the piano?"
"I dabble a bit here and there. I painted this piece," he pointed to a large canvas
hanging on the wall over the TV set; it was an abstract work, in red and black, with sun
shapes and cloud-like streaks.
Mulder nodded approvingly. "That's very nice. Funny, you don't usually see
artistic types go into law enforcement."
"Why Mulder," Scully quipped, "I think you have a very creative imagination."
"Well," Knight said mildly, "In the end, I decided I wanted to dedicate myself
to serving my fellow man."
"Interesting choice of words," Mulder said enigmatically. "To Serve Man."
Scully wasn't sure what Mulder was leading up to, but she had the feeling she
wasn't going to like it. She decided to cut to the chase. "Detective, we came here to ask
you about the disappearance of the Casa Loma body from the city morgue last night."
Knight, looking as innocent as an angel in a Van Eyck painting, said, "I know
no more about it than you do."
"Well, you see, that's the thing," Scully said, feeling a bit sheepish. "We were
wondering...you didn't steal the body yourself, did you?"
Knight smiled and crossed his arms. "Why would I do something like that?"
"Maybe," Scully proposed, "to keep the body out of Section One's hands?
Perhaps you arranged to hide it somewhere else. If that's the case...we don't have a
problem with it. We were hoping you might trust us to look at it ourselves. After all,
we don't like having to work with Section One anymore than you do." She noticed
Mulder was wandering around the apartment again, still perusing the detective's decor.
She wondered -- if this whole visit was Mulder's idea, why wasn't he doing the talking?
"Agent Scully...I wish I could help you." Knight said. "But, honestly, I don't have
the Casa Loma body in my possession. Its disappearance is a complete mystery to me."
At this point, Mulder, who was now standing behind the couch near a little
narrow table up against it, announced, "Are you sure you didn't steal it...because you're a
vampire?"
"Oh no!" Scully groaned. "Mulder!"
Knight crossed his arms more tightly, and his smile froze just a little bit as he
said, "Agent Mulder...what on Earth are you talking about?"
Mulder pointed triumphantly at the Toronto cop and stepped toward him. "You,
Detective Nicholas Knight, are a vampire!"
"Mulder, you are out of control!" Scully cried. "Detective...Mulder didn't get a lot
of sleep last night. Or rather, early this morning. He's a little...stressed out."
"I am not stressed out! Knight, are you or are you not a vampire? A nosferatu?
A blood-sucking creature of the night?"
Knight chuckled nervously. "Agent Mulder, there is no such thing as vampires."
"Oh yeah? I beg to differ. On two separate occasions I have encountered
vampires. Scully, remember that woman in LA?"
"No."
"Oh, right...I was with Krycek then...you'd been abducted..."
Knight gave Scully an inquisitive look. "Long story," she said.
The Toronto detective smiled again. "Some would say LA is full of vampires,"
he remarked. "But I don't think they're of the kind your partner is referring to."
"Okay, okay..." Mulder said to Scully, "What about that small rural town we
were in?"
"Oh, Mulder, don't go there. That incident where that young man met with
that...accident..." Scully emphasized the words to remind Mulder of the time he'd fatally
staked some poor kid through the heart, and they'd had to sit before their boss Skinner
and offer up many explanations and mea culpas to keep their fat out of the fire.
Mulder, however, would not let up. "What about the facts in this case? Fact
number one: Knight is allergic to sunlight. Is it not true, Detective, that you do not go out
during the day?"
Scully rolled her eyes. "Mulder, there are a lot of perfectly natural processes that
render the skin overly sensitive to sunlight. There are even some medications that do it.
And there are a number of medical conditions -- for example, porphyria...that's what King
George III is believed to have had. You've heard of him…MAD King George?"
Mulder was undaunted. "What about the fact that we never see Knight eat!"
"So what?" Scully countered.
"So, what's in the detective's refrigerator right now, huh?"
Scully gave Knight a pleading look. "I deeply apologize for my partner's
behavior, detective."
Mulder dashed over to the large, industrial-sized refrigerator, which was around
a corner from the kitchen area (the room shaped like an indented rectangle) and built into
the wall. He clutched the door handle.
Knight, still wearing his strange, cold smile, said, "I'm afraid you won't find very
much in there at all. I am a bachelor. I don't buy large quantities of food."
Mulder, with a great flourish, yanked open the fridge.
Scully gave an exasperated sigh and ran over to him. "Mulder, this is insane!
Will you get out of this man's refrigerator!"
Mulder pointed to the almost-completely-empty refrigerator. "There is
NOTHING in here except these...interesting-looking corked wine bottles with no labels."
Nick Knight said, "My ancestry is French. We drink a lot of...wine. Red wine.
From private vineyards."
"Ha," Mulder retorted. "I'll bet. Let's just see what's actually in here..." He
hauled out a bottle and grasped the cork.
Scully lunged forward and snatched the bottle from his hand. "Mulder! Stop it!"
She replaced the bottle and closed the fridge. "Detective, once again, I have to apologize
for this intrusion. Mulder, you are not uncorking this man's wine collection." She seized
her partner by the elbow and dragged him away from the fridge, back towards the living
room area.
The FBI agent was not finished yet. "What about the fact," he asked, "that there
are no crosses in this house? Nor any other religious symbols? None, among all these
antiques?"
Knight seemed more relaxed all of a sudden and came around the couch. He
leaned against the low table behind it, arms crossed again, and chuckled. "Now, Agent
Mulder, you are clutching at straws."
"Mulder!" Scully admonished. "A lot of people don't have crosses or religious
symbols in their houses! You don't! Unless you're one of those people who actually
worships Gray Aliens who perform Anal Probes!"
Knight shrugged. "So I don't have any crosses or symbols in the house. I'm
not very religious."
"A lot of people aren't religious, Mulder. Like you."
"Scully, you, the most skeptical person I know, are a Catholic. You even go
to Mass."
"You can still be a skeptic and still believe in God!"
Knight smiled. "With your line of work, Agent Scully, I would imagine you're
of the opinion that one shouldn't be an atheist in a foxhole?"
Scully managed to smile gratefully at the detective, then turned to her partner.
"And what about you? You seem to believe in aliens, ghosts, ESP, the Loch Ness
monster...everything but God."
"I've actually seen aliens, ghosts, people with ESP, and if not the Loch Ness
monster, a lake creature of the same variety. I simply consider myself an agnostic."
Knight asked mildly, "And what kind of religious symbols do agnostics keep
in their houses?"
Scully sighed.
Mulder ran a hand through his hair. "Look, all I need is a cross or something..."
Suddenly, his gaze fixed upon her. He grinned. "Hey, you wear a cross! On a chain
around your neck! I can see you have it on now!"
"Oh, no..." Scully put her hand protectively around the tiny gold cross. "For
God's sake, Mulder..."
"That's the idea, Scully...come on, just lend it to me for a minute!"
"No!" She looked again at Knight. His smile was cold again. She figured he was
starting to really get offended by her partner's shenanigans.
"Mulder, we have things to do, places to be, beheadings to solve..."
"Just humor me."
"The last time I humored you, we ended up almost getting arrested by MP's at
Area 51!"
"Yeah, but we saw the alien spacecraft!"
"No we didn't!"
"What about that penny and dime that somehow got fused together? I saw it in
your desk the other day!"
Scully gazed skyward, begging her God to deliver her from this insane situation.
Then, perhaps He spoke to her, because she realized that there was some merit to the idea
of simply handing Mulder the cross, and letting him do whatever he was going to do with
it. Since Knight was clearly not a vampire, Mulder would shut up and they could move
on with their lives.
She unhooked the chain and handed the pendant to her partner. He took it with
an excited gleam in his eye. To Knight, she said, "I'm sorry, Detective. When Mulder
gets this way, sometimes it's best just to give him enough rope to hang himself."
Mulder remarked, dryly, "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I've gotten more
support from the Cigarette Smoking Man." He arranged the cross in his fingers. It was
such a tiny thing, barely an inch long, that it looked quite ridiculous dangling from his
large hand. He advanced toward Knight.
The detective kept his arms folded, and as Mulder approached, holding the
cross before him, he stood his ground. However, Mulder got so close to him that Scully
saw Knight lean backward heavily against the table and clench his jaw. Canadians must
really like their personal space, she concluded. Then again, if she were in Knight's
position, with an insane FBI agent looming over her with a piece of jewelry held out like
some kind of voodoo talisman, she wouldn't be too happy either.
"Agent Mulder?" Knight suddenly asked, his voice quavering slightly, "have
you ever read Anne Rice?"
Mulder pulled back a bit. "Huh?"
"The book Interview with a Vampire."
"What does that have to do with this?"
"Oh, everything. You see, in her book, the vampires are totally unaffected
by holy symbols. They explain that the belief in their fear of crosses and the like is a
fallacy."
Mulder, confusion on his face, stepped back a few paces more.
Knight continued in a steady, soft voice. "And this has been stated in other
works as well. I remember there was this book called Anno Dracula, by a writer named
Kim Newman. It also said that the vampires' fear of crosses was an incorrect superstition...
and did you see the movie 'Fright Night'?"
Mulder slumped his shoulders. He appeared deflated. "Fright Night?"
Knight nodded. "In that picture, a holy symbol would only work against a
vampire if the person holding it truly believed in the religious power of the symbol. You
said you were an agnostic. Do you really believe in the power of the Christian Church,
which that cross symbolizes?"
The FBI Agent opened his mouth, then shut it again. He sighed, then retreated,
letting the hand that held the cross drop limply to his side.
"Of course," Knight said blandly, "there's no such thing as vampires."
"Mulder!" Scully scolded, "what the hell were you expecting? Did you think
he'd cringe and recoil like Bela Lugosi in an old movie? Now, give me back my cross.
My mother gave it to me."
Defeated, all Mulder said was, "People always seem to get their crosses from
their mothers." Scully took hers from him and put it back on around her neck.
"Well," Knight said companionably, "it's not the sort of jewelry people get for
themselves." He left his spot by the couch and headed back to the kitchen table. He
picked up the coffee cup, sniffed it, and put it in the microwave, heating it for just a few
seconds.
Scully said, "Now, Mulder, are you finished wasting precious time? While
we've been playing this pop culture quiz, someone could have gotten beheaded again!"
"It's just about time for my shift to start," Knight said, draining his cup and
putting it in the sink. "I'll just take a minute to dress -- then we can leave togeth--..."
The phone rang.
The detective picked up a phone on the couch end table. "Knight here." He
listened for a few minutes, then said, "We'll be right there. Agents Scully and Mulder are
with me." He hung up.
"What's going on?" Scully asked. "Has there been another beheading?"
"The 'North American Anti-Terrorist Directorate' people are at the precinct
house. Their intelligence network has found something important. We have to get over
there. Give me five minutes." Knight dashed up the stairs.
As soon as he was out of sight, Mulder said, "Hey, what about 'Buffy the
Vampire Slayer'? They hate crosses on that show!"
Scully sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not now, Mulder!"
"Hmph," he said, and jammed his hands in his pockets.
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