Disclaimers: Forever Knight and its characters don't belong to me, but
they are near and dear to my heart. No money is being made from this
tale, although my soul can rest a little easier knowing this story is
finally written. This story takes place immediately after "Ashes to
Ashes."
Thanks to Shana for beta reading this little tale!
Permission to archive at www.fkfanfic.com and at any Dark Perk site is
given. (And such archiving is also greatly appreciated.)
===================
Confessions 01/03
by Laura K. Griffin
She wasn't exactly sure why she went to the Raven. It was something that
just happened without conscious thought. She'd been driving around the
city of Toronto on her night off; the night after Vachon had...gone
away. She wasn't quite comfortable with saying that he'd died.
Supposedly that had happened some 500 years ago. But the reality was
that she felt her heart break when he'd lain in her arms and closed her
eyes, the wooden stake still protruding from his chest. Gone. So
quickly. And it was still a mystery to her. No one to ask either. Maybe.
Perhaps that was why she'd driven over to the Raven. She had questions,
and she had a pretty good idea that at least someone there could provide
answers.
She parked her Taurus out in front of the popular nightclub, noticing
there was a disturbing lack of activity. Normally there were people
coming in and out of the club. The bouncer was standing at the door,
but he looked nervous. Or bored.
"To hell with it. I'm going in anyway," she said to herself as she
grabbed her purse, got out of the car, and headed toward the front
door. She got a raised eyebrow from the bouncer, but he was silent as
he opened the door for her. Inside, the music pulsated but not as
loudly as she was used to. The dance floor was empty, and only a few
customers were scattered throughout the bar; couples mostly, sitting and
whispering quietly. Tracy caught herself searching the shadows for the
long-haired Spaniard before remembering that he was gone. Buried by her
own hands in the early hours before dawn. She took a seat at the end of
the bar, furthest away from the door.
"Good evening. Miss Vetter, isn't it?" The bartender was a familiar
face...and a familiar voice. It was the proprietor of the Raven. The
last time she saw him, he was walking out of the police precinct,
released due to lack of evidence in the Raven 'headless corpse'
homicide.
"Yes. And you're Mr. Lacroix." He nodded. "Slow night around here."
"Indeed. Actually that's rather fortunate for me since I'm a bit
shorthanded on staff at the moment. what can I get for you tonight,
Detective?"
"I...well..." She thought a moment and decided she wanted something to
relax her body as well as warm her up a bit. "Cognac. Remy Martin, if
you have it."
"As a matter of fact, I do. Considering the damage the club has
sustained, I'm somewhat limited as to what's available, but you're in
luck." Lacroix turned away to fix the drink as Tracy surveyed the
establishment. Obviously some vandalism had caused quite a bit of
destruction, but she could see that repairs were in progress.
"Mind if I ask what happened in here?" Tracy sipped the cognac that
Lacroix had placed before her and watched while his facial expression
turned even more somber.
"It's a rather personal matter," he whispered.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It just looks like a small war was
waged here."
"A war." He pondered the word and then nodded. "Yes. War would be an apt
description. Suffice it to say that a 'war' erupted here and the battle
was won. We just bear the scars." He words were soft, and Tracy detected
the sadness behind them.
"Time heals all...or so they say." Her own voice was melancholy, and
Lacroix remembered Nicholas' words. She'd lost Vachon, a victim of the
ancient vampire's evil daughter, Divia. How much pain had that "child"
caused in the few short hours that she'd tormented Lacroix and
victimized the vampire community. He also remembered his son's request.
Nicholas wanted his master to remove Tracy's exact memories of Vachon's
death while allowing her to retain the knowledge of the existence of
vampires. Although he intended to honor this request, he'd yet to have
the opportunity to do so. Until now.
"The mountain has come to Mohammed," he whispered under his breath.
"Excuse me?" Tracy eyed the man in black quizzically.
Lacroix shook off the reverie. "Forgive me. My mind was occupied
elsewhere, and I'm afraid I was simply thinking out loud. Is your drink
satisfactory?" Back to business...for the moment.
"It's fine. Thank you." She sat in silence, sipping the cognac and
watching Lacroix go about the mundane business of wiping down the bar.
It occurred to her that this chore was too menial for such a man. He had
an aristocratic air about him.
He knew that she was watching him, and he wondered what she was
thinking. He found the young woman quite attractive and marveled for a
moment over his son's restraint...as well as Vachon's. "Mr. Lacroix, do
you have a moment to chat for a bit?"
Her question surprised him, but he nodded and signaled to a waitress to
relieve him. "May I suggest we adjourn to more private quarters? I have
a small lounge in back that will afford us a bit of quiet and privacy."
"That would be fine, but could I get another drink first?" She handed
him the now-empty snifter.
He looked at the glass for a moment before placing it behind the bar and
asking, "Have you ever had a drink called 'the Big Sleep,' Miss Vetter?
I think you might find it pleasing."
"Never heard of it. What is it?"
"It's a glass of champagne with a shot of cognac mixed in."
"Sounds interesting. I'll give it a try." She watched as he pulled out a
bottle of Dom Perignon and poured it into a chilled crystal flute and
then added a healthy shot of the Remy Martin.
"On the house," he said as he carried the sparkling beverage around the
bar. "Please, follow me, and we can talk as long as you'd like." Tracy
got up and walked behind him, trying to decide how to even begin a
discussion with him. She knew she was risking a lot by trying this, but
she was determined to satisfy the disturbing questions she had. Even at
the risk of making a fool out of herself.
Lacroix **passed** through a series of chains that hung from the ceiling
and
then parted the red velvet curtains that separated the public area of
the bar from his sanctuary. The room was small and had a circular couch
in the center. He indicated that she should have a seat, and then
joined her on the plush velvet cushions. Handing her the drink, she
then noticed that he, too, had a drink for himself. 'Red wine?' she
wondered; or perhaps she was on the right track after all. Her heart
sped up a bit, and she took a healthy swallow from the champagne flute.
The champagne was delicious, bubbling and refreshing, and the cognac
left her mouth and throat feeling warm. "Thank you. This is
very...soothing," she said and then took another sip. Her first drink
was already affecting her; her shoulders dropped as the alcohol released
a bit of the tension that had resided there.
"So how can I be of assistance to you, Miss Vetter? I assume this is not
an official police visit."
"No. Actually, I'm starting to feel a little weird about this, but I
don't know where else to turn." Tracy sighed deeply, closed her eyes,
and tried to compose her thoughts.
"Take your time," Lacroix said patiently. "I'm in no hurry, and you seem
to be quite disturbed by something." Of course, he was quite aware of
her source of stress and upset, but he decided to wait and follow her
lead. If she was a 'resistor' as Nicholas said, he needed time to get
to know the young woman and find the weakness; the way in to suppress
her memories and her pain.
Tracy took a very deep breath and blurted out, "You knew Vachon." Direct
and to the point.
"Yes. He was a frequent patron the Raven," he answered coolly.
"I know. Well, he's gone now. Forever."
"And he left you behind." Lacroix wasn't going to push her. He'd let her
tell her story, see how far she was going to go in this confession.
"In a manner of speaking, yes. But it was sudden."
"He seemed to be the type that like to travel frequently." He watched
her face closely to see if she'd react to such a benign comment. He was
rewarded with an even deeper sigh and a distressed frown. It was
obvious she was here on some rather serious business.
"No. I said *forever.* He's...dead. FOREVER dead." She watched him to
see if he would catch her meaning. His face remained passive.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "How did it happen?"
"Like I said, it was sudden. And it didn't make any sense."
"Death rarely does."
"I know. I'm a homicide detective, remember? But this was...unique."
"How so?"
Tracy sat back against the couch and was silent for a moment. 'This is
it,' she thought to herself, trying to decide if this is when she should
just blurt out her questions and assumptions. She decided on a slow but
direct approach. "It started with the recent homicide case here at the
Raven."
"Really."
"Yeah...I'd talked to Vachon right after you had been detained at the
precinct, to ask him some questions about the Raven. And about you."
Lacroix waited for her to continue as he sipped from his own crystal
glass, though he did raise an inquiring eyebrow. "I'll get back to
*that* conversation a little later on, if you don't mind."
"Please, continue at your own pace. This is your story to tell."
Tracy nodded thankfully. "Later that night, I got a phone call from him,
and he was ranting that he knew who the Raven killer was. And then he
screamed and must have dropped the phone. I ran out of the station house
and drove over to his place where I found him. He was highly agitated
and in physical agony." She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears
threatening to choke through. Lacroix sensed her unease and reached to
take her hand. She was surprised at his compassion. When she'd
encountered him recently, he seemed cold and antagonistic. "He was
confused and upset. And he sounded insane. He was covered in scratches
and bite marks."
"And what did you do, Miss Vetter?"
"I tried to calm him down, but he said he was dying."
"And was he?"
Tracy paused for a moment before answering, her hands trembling.
"I...I'm not sure, but he chose to end his suffering. He wanted me to do
it, but I hesitated. How could he ask me to do something like that?"
Lacroix knew that she didn't really expect him to answer, so he waited.
She finally shook her head, eyes closed, trying to hold back the
onslaught of memories and emotions. "Anyway...I hesitated, but he used
that hesitation to impale himself on a wooden stake that I was holding."
"Miss Vetter, I hate to interrupt, but may I ask *why* you were holding
a wooden stake?" He was baiting her. He suspected that her reason for
being here was more complex than to have a simple question answered.
"Vachon had it in a box where he lived, and he told me to get it, and
to...." Tracy stopped and took another deep draught of the champagne.
"He told me to get it and to drive it into his heart."
"Somewhat dramatic, I'd say. Not the usual form of assisted suicide." He
continued his portrayal of ignorance, though he knew they were getting
close to the point of no return.
"Yes. Well. Vachon was not what you'd call "the usual" kind of guy. I've
never met anyone like him before. He opened my eyes to so many
things...things I always thought were impossible."
"Would you care to elaborate?"
"I guess I've gone this far, I might as well." Tracy paused, thinking to
herself that he would either believe her to be insane...or worse.
"It is *your* choice, Miss Vetter." He looked deeply into her eyes when
he spoke, as if searching her very soul. She looked away, unable to
hold his stare, then turned back to look him in the eyes again.
"Vachon is...well...he *was*..." Tracy took a deep breath. "He was a
vampire." There. She'd said it, and as she waited for his laughter, all
she got in response from him was his steady gaze. Her eyes narrowed a
bit and then she added in a soft whisper, "And so are you."
This last statement did elicit a response. Lacroix raised his eyebrows a
bit and smiled in amusement. "You are a very intriguing young woman." He
took both of her hands in his and felt her trembling. "I'm sorry for
your loss. Vachon deserved better than the cruel end he received."
"So...you're not denying it?" she asked, her surprise evident.
"And why should I deny what you somehow know to be true?" His voice was
silken -- the voice of the NightCrawler. "I would, however, like to know
what brought you to this conclusion."
"I'm a detective, Mr. Lacroix. I've been trained to watch for details
and see through lies."
"Lies? I don't believe I've ever lied to you."
"I didn't accuse *you* of lying. But there are others in
the...community...who have. I'm sure Vachon's intent was to protect me
and his community, but lying was not one of his stronger talents."
"I see. And what 'lie' did he tell you?" Lacroix was beginning to
realize that fulfilling Nicholas' request might be a bit more difficult
then either had anticipated.
"I told you earlier that I talked to Vachon right after you were
interrogated. I asked him if you were one of them...a vampire. He gave
me a blank look and a 'no' --- and I could tell he was lying. It
certainly wasn't the first time that he'd lied to me. Besides that," she
continued, "I know a little about the Raven and its clientele. I've been
in here often enough to observe quite a bit."
"Beautiful *and* intuitive."
"Look: I'm not looking for compliments here. I'm looking for answers."
Her voice was a bit hoarse from choking back tears and pure fear, but
she was in a serious mood and didn't want to be distracted from her
purpose.
"My sincere apologies, Miss Vetter. I was simply making an observation
of my own." Lacroix's smile was slight but sincere as he told her, "Of
course you want answers, but I must compliment you on being so forth
right with such a delicate situation." He was silent for a moment,
collecting his own thoughts and deciding just how to proceed. He decided
to reward her bravery with honesty. "I have...suffered losses recently
myself."
"The Raven?" Tracy prompted, remembering the damage she'd surveyed upon
her entrance.
"Yes, the Raven. But I have also lost loved ones, as violently as you
lost Vachon." Again he stopped, closing his eyes to block the pain, and
it was Tracy who took his hands in hers and stroked his long cool
fingers. Touching his cool hand further confirmed her conclusion that
the man she was sitting so close to was, indeed, a vampire. Yet somehow,
she found her fear slipping away as she saw the pain etched into his
face. "Vachon was not what I would have considered a friend, but his
blood is on my hands, and he was a part of my community."
"YOUR hands?" Tracy voice increased a level, a bit of anger creeping in
at the implication he'd just made. "What do you mean?"
"Because he was one of my patrons and a part of the community, his death
was a punishment directed at me. Many of my 'associates' were either
killed - permanently, I'm afraid, - or injured in some way. All of
these attacks were meant as a punishment and a warning to me. The
headless corpse found here in the Raven's 'beer fridge' was the first in
a series of violent warnings."
"So you *did* know the man found here?" Tracy found herself switching
into detective mode.
"No."
"Then I don't understand."
"All in good time. You want answers, and I'm doing my best to give them
to you, even though it goes against my better judgment. However, I'd
have to say that there are extenuating circumstances in this case."
Lacroix took several moments to contemplate the situation as he arose
from the the couch and took both the now-empty glasses away. "If you
don't mind, Miss Vetter, I'll get up both fresh drinks. It will only
take a moment," he assured her.
Tracy nodded silently, knowing that she was already slightly
intoxicated. But as she said, these *were* extenuating circumstances,
and she'd never discussed any of these matters with anyone before --
other than Vachon. She welcomed the intoxicating effect that the
champagne and cognac were producing, allowing her mind and emotions to
retreat into their warmth. As she waited for Lacroix to return, she
reflected for a moment on the fact that the voice of the NightCrawler
was also very soothing and seemed to produce its own version of
intoxication. She'd be a regular listener to his show for years, but
this was the first time, other than the recent interrogation, that she'd
listened to his voice in person.
When he returned with the drinks, he noticed that a slight smile was
playing on her lips. He watched her for a moment, wondering what was
motivating her smile during such a painful confrontation. He had noted
her attractive countenance many times during her visits at the Raven
when she was meeting with the Spaniard, and he was enjoying this
unexpected opportunity to actually meet his son's young partner,
regardless of the circumstances of her visit.
Tracy felt Lacroix' presence and turned her face away from his, a
gesture of embarrassment at having been 'caught' thinking about the
sultry voice and the attractive man she was talking to about such a
sensitive subject. How many times had Vachon warned her of the dangers
of her knowledge of the existence of vampires? How many times had he
lied to her for 'her own protection' or the protection of his vampire
community? She suddenly remembered the words Screed had spoken to
Vachon when he'd brought her down to the sewer and told the carouche
that she was a resistor. Screed's recommendation was to 'drain her,' yet
Vachon resisted that temptation, deciding instead to release her with
the knowledge of the existence of vampires. 'A confusing situation,'
she thought to herself. "how many times have I been close to death due
to the accidental entry in to the awareness of what she'd thought was an
impossible world?' Screed had attacked her during during his terminal
fever; even Vachon had come close to killing her during his bout with
the same illness and again during his insanity right before he launched
himself onto the wooden stake that she'd refused to drive through his
heart.'
"Miss Vetter?" Tracy turned toward the liquid voice and accepted the
cold drink he held out to her, another 'big sleep.'
"It's Tracy," she said quietly. "I think, at this point, formalities are
superfluous."
Lacroix allowed a small smile to grace his bow-shaped lips, and he
stared deeply into her eyes. He noted that her fear of him seemed to
have dissipated and had been replaced with melancholy and acceptance. He
chose his next words carefully as he once again took a seat beside her,
this time closing some of the earlier distance. His leg brushed hers,
and his shoulder was near enough to her own that she could easily rest
her head there if she so desired. Lacroix listened to her heartbeat
increase its rate, and enjoyed the pleasant scent of her hair, her
perfume...and her blood. "Tracy," he whispered, "You obviously have a
great deal on your mind, but please, believe me when I say to you that
you are in no danger here. Feel free to speak your mind. Your words will
not leave this room."
"No doubt," Tracy quipped somewhat sarcastically and with a rueful grin.
"I am quite serious about this. As I'm sure you've ascertained, I am
entrusting you with delicate information as well. I suggest we agree to
a mutual exchange of privacy. Neither of us should be compromised."
"I'm a cop, Mr. Lacroix. Do you expect me to ignore that?"
"Of course not." Lacroix smiled thinly. "I suspect that our discussion
will transcend the law." His eyes held hers in a deep stare, and he
reached out his hand and gently stroked her jaw line. A shiver ran
through Tracy at this cool touch, and she stiffened and drew away from
him.
"Don't," Tracy whispered. "I can't...."
"Yes. You can. Allow me to relieve you of the burden you are carrying.
Tracy. You came to me for a reason. At least part of you knows that I
can help you. I know that you are afraid, but try to trust your
instincts. Trust *me.*" His voice was soft and persuasive. Tracy
wanted to trust him --- needed to trust *someone.* The alcohol lowered
her defenses, and his voice soothed her.
"I see your point. I came her with a purpose. I shouldn't be hedging."
Tracy looked back into the azure jewels of ice that were the
NightCrawler's eyes and drew strength from the calm she sensed in his
stare. Taking a deep breath, she stated the now-obvious. "You're a
vampire. Just like Vachon. And Screed." Tracy felt instantly relieved
now that she come clean, and she found herself smiling at Lacroix.
'Well, not *just* like them. But you are *are* a vampire."
Lacroix's eyes never strayed from her. His lips turned upward at the
corners; amusement brought the smile into play as he whispered
conspiratorially, "Feel better now that you've said the word out loud?"
She nodded, noticing he wasn't denying her accusation. "Very good.
That's a start anyway." they sat in the room for a moment...the only
sound to be heard was the gently thrum of Tracy Vetter's heart. Lacroix
focused on the rhythm and considered the idea of putting her in a light
hypnotic state. He closed his eyes, feeling them instinctually turn
gold at the thought. He retained his composure and decided to wait.
This was turning into an unexpectedly interesting evening. He opted to
postpone his son's request for a while longer; to see just how
interesting it could get.
"Well," Tracy said, breaking the quiet spell that had drifted over them.
"I didn't know if you'd admit it or not."
"Miss Vetter...Tracy." As he said her name, he touched her chin to lift
it upward so that she was looking deeply into his eyes. "As I've said
before, there's no sense in denying something when we both know that
it's true." A small sigh escaped her lips as the memory of Vachon's lie
slipped into her mind. She wondered if Lacroix had the ability to read
her mind when he whispered, "I'm sure Javier was just trying to protect
you from any harm."
"I know," Tracy answered, "but it was still a lie. He could have trusted
me."
"Tracy, he *did* trust you. At the end. It was into your hands that he
commended his...soul. When he asked you to drive the stake into his
heart." Her lip quivered into a tiny frown as a single tear dripped from
her eye, remembering how it had all ended so abruptly. One minute, he
was sitting in her car talking to her...and then he was begging her to
put him down with the wooden stake. Lacroix pulled Tracy in closer
towards his own body, giving her his unspoken permission to take
advantage of his shoulder. Her head lowered as the tears finally began
to flow, and Lacroix held her as she trembled with the fierceness of the
crescendo of tears.
As a homicide detective, Tracy had learned to repress her emotions and
harden her heart, but now, in the comfort of the vampire's arms, she
felt her control collapse, and it seemed as if she poured her entire
soul through her tears. Lacroix was quite patient as her grief tore
through her in an endless barrage. One hand stroked her soft blonde hair
as the other gently rubbed her back in small soothing circles; all the
while his arms were wrapped around her, and he held her close as if she
were a child and not the beautiful young woman that she was. He did not
utter a sound as her tears soaked through the black shirt he was
wearing, and no one disturbed them during the intense emotional
outpouring. (Lacroix's employees knew better than to interrupt him when
he was occupied in the private rooms of the Raven's establishment.)
Tracy finally began to recover herself. The first cognitive thought was
her notice of how easily she had surrendered herself to the man who had
so recently been a murder suspect; one that she and her partner, Nick
Knight, had arrested due to the corpse in the 'beer fridge' and its head
in a cardboard box. The murder was officially unsolved, and Lacroix
released due to lack of evidence against him. And he had no criminal
record. He'd made a distinct impression on her. At the time, he'd made
her very uncomfortable, and she'd surmised that he was a vampire, no
matter what lie Vachon tried to pass on to her. And now, being held by
the 'NightCrawler's' arms, her suspicions were confirmed by his cool
touch and lack of regular heartbeat...and his own admission that he was
a vampire. To her surprise, she found that any fear of Lacroix that she
may have harbored was completely gone.
Her tears slowed, and Lacroix quickly produced a handkerchief. She
thanked him and dried her eyes. "I must look terrible. Is there some
place I can clean up a bit before I have to face the world?"
"Of course." He stood up and helped her to her feet. "Right through that
door, on your left." Tracy excused herself and followed his directions.
She opened the black door by its old-fashioned glass doorknob and found
that she was in a somewhat spartan bedroom. She could see the bathroom
at the far end of the room, and she moved to it quickly. She made fast
work of splashing her face with cold water, drying it off, and blowing
her nose. Her eyes were red and swollen, but there was nothing she
could do about that. At least the make-up smears were gone now, so she
turned the light off and left the bathroom. She found Lacroix waiting in
the adjoining bedroom, sitting on the settee at the end of the bed. Oil
lamps set in mirrored wall sconces cast a warm light in the small room,
and the door leading to the Raven's back room was now closed. She felt
immediately defensive.
"What's this? Some kind of seduction play?" she asked, her voice tinged
with anger.
Lacroix smiled and chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, of course
not." Tracy cocked an eyebrow and then smiled to herself, realizing that
she'd automatically made an assumption that was based on her experience
with human men. Lacroix stood to take her hands in his. "I just thought
we'd have a bit more privacy in my own quarters as the subject matter of
our discussion is somewhat sensitive in nature."
"I'm sorry. I just thought...." She shook her head in embarrassment as
her voice trailed off.
"I understand. I suppose it was an understandable assumption given your
situation."
"My 'situation?'"
"Yes...your being such an attractive woman, I'm sure you've encountered
seduction plays quite often."
Tracy turned her head away as the blood rushed into her face. She
abruptly changed the subject. "So...now that I've embarrassed myself
with my emotional outburst over Vachon, what can you tell me about what
really happened to him?"
"No need for embarrassment, Tracy. your honesty is quite refreshing.
Because of that, I will honor you with the same gift of truth." Tracy
nodded solemnly as she took a seat on the settee. Lacroix continued to
stand and began a slow pace back and forth before her. His thoughts
turned inward as he pondered where to begin his own tale. His pain was
still fresh, and he was unaccustomed to sharing it. "My daughter was
responsible for Vachon's death."
Tracy gasped and her eyes widened. "You have a daughter?" She
immediately pictured someone near her own age, although when she looked
at the attractive man talking to her, she didn't think of him as a
father figure at all!
"HAD a daughter. Divia died as a result of her evil."
"I'm sorry," Tracy whispered, seeing the deep pain evident in Lacroix's
eyes.
"Thank you," he replied. "It's been a difficult time as I'm sure you
can appreciate. Divia was my true daughter. And she was my maker." He
paused, allowing Tracy to digest this powerful bit of information. She
swallowed hard but kept silent so that he might continue. "She was very
young when she was brought across; what today would be called
'pre-adolescent.' The one who made her was very old and obviously very
powerful. She always had an evil streak, but the old one's blood seemed
to have magnified that trait ten fold. I loved her more than the gods
when we were mortal; she was everything to me. And she loved me...more
than she really should have. Shortly after she was brought over, the
opportunity arose for her to save my life by bringing me across.
Vesuvius was erupting, and Divia's gift to me was to keep me from dying
with the rest of Pompeii."
"Vesuvius?! My god.." Tracy was stunned with the realization of just how
ancient this vampire was, and Vachon's voice echoed from the grave:
"Daughter! Mother!" -- and now if finally made sense to her.
"Yes, a very long time ago, and only twenty years after Pompeii was
buried in ash, I destroyed Divia. Or so I thought." His eyes closed as
if to shield himself from the vicious scene that threatened to play
across the already-seared memories of his soul. Tracy stood up and
stopped Lacroix's insistent pacing. He opened his pale blue eyes and
allowed her to look deeply into the sapphire pools which reflected his
deepest emotions. She was moved by what she saw there.
"If this is too painful for you..." she said in a hoarse whisper, her
own tears threatening to break free again.
"No, I want to share this with you. You deserve to have the answers you
seek." Lacroix was actually quite surprised at how much he really *did*
want to continue the tale. Only Nicholas knew the entire story, and he
found comfort in sharing his agony with the young, blonde female
standing before him. Perhaps it was her own pain that made it possible
to tell her his story.
"Then please, sit down with me." Tracy took his hand and led him back to
the settee. He sat down closely beside her and took a moment of silence
to take inventory of his thoughts.
In a low voice, thick with emotion, he began again. "Divia's love for me
became incestuous in nature. Her desire was that we consummate our
relationship. It was something I could not do. She had destroyed her
own master when she sensed his attempt to control her. I destroyed her
when she asked me to make love to her." He turned his face away from
Tracy. "I beheaded her with a scythe in my fury and disgust, and then I
buried her in a tomb in ancient Egypt."
Tracy's mind went into detective mode. "The man found here in the
Raven...the grave digger. He must have opened her tomb. But...how on
earth did she survive?"
"I do not know. Perhaps the blood of the one who made her was so
powerful that she was able to recover. However it happened, she sought
revenge when released from the sarcophagus. She murdered the grave
robber and brought his body here. It was a calling card of sorts; a
decapitation in remembrance of what I did to her. She didn't stop there
as I'm sure you know. Vachon, Urs...both were her victims."
"Urs is gone, too?" Tracy shook her head sadly as Lacroix nodded assent.
"In a relatively short time, Divia did quite a bit of damage in her
attempt to destroy me. If it hadn't been for the timely appearance
of...my son...she very well might have succeeded."
"What *did* happen?"
"Obviously you saw the destruction in the Raven. Her strength was quite
extraordinary. She brought a memento of our time together in Egypt: the
scythe. Just as she was about to repay me for beheading and imprisoning
her, my son stepped in and impaled her. It came as quite a shock to her
since she'd been to his home earlier and thought him destroyed."
"Your son...he's a vampire?"
"Yes, but he's not my mortal child as Divia was."
"But if Divia came back once...?"
"She will not come back again. Her body has been cremated, and her ashes
scattered to the winds." His hands trembled as he remembered the moment
he gathered the ashes of his beloved child -- his master -- and released
them over the water through the violent winds. Tracy continued to hold
his hands in hers, stroking the pale skin with her own delicate fingers.
"I am so sorry. You've obviously been through something too horrendous
for me to completely understand, but I can see you're in a great deal of
pain."
"Your kindness is a bit unexpected, since you must now realize that
ultimately I'm responsible for Vachon's demise." His voice was tinged
with the cool fire of challenge.
"You're not to blame for your daughter's crimes." Tracy felt no anger
toward Lacroix at all. She felt only sympathy for his loss and sadness
for her own. "You shouldn't take responsibility for Divia's cruelty.
You've suffered enough."
Lacroix raised an eyebrow in surprise at her statement. He'd expected
her to by furious. But then...this woman wasn't at all what he'd
expected. He was impressed with her strength of character and her
compassion. He thought again on his son's request. "I can make you
forget your own pain," he said softly. "there *are* ways..."
Tracy realized what he was suggesting. "Vachon tried to make me forget
things. It doesn't work on me."
"Vachon was young."
Tracy considered his words for only a second before whispering, "You've
already helped me tonight, just by listening to me and then filling in
the blanks." she looked him in the eyes as she spoke, noticing the
incredible depth she found there.
Lacroix stood and assisted her to her feet to face him. "Anything I can
ever do to help you, please just let me know." She looked up into his
face and saw the sincerity there.
"I might have more questions at a later time," she whispered quietly.
He found himself swimming in her eyes that were brimming with tears, and
he realized how pleasant her countenance was to behold. He lifted his
hand to rest on her shoulder near her neck and stroked the soft skin
behind her ear. "You are welcome to come by at any time, Tracy. I've
found our conversation quite stimulating in spite of its macabre
content." He leaned down to brush her temple with a feather-soft kiss.
She shivered involuntarily, but she didn't pull away. Her head tilted
back, and he captured her lips with his. At first, the kiss was soft,
but it quickly turned to fiery intensity as she hungrily yielded to the
explorations of his darting tongue. Tracy slipped a hand up around his
neck, her fingers playing with his shortly-trimmed hair. His arms
cradled her body, pulling her close to him. The kiss lingered, and
Tracy surrendered all common sense to the ferocity of the moment. It
felt so right.
Lacroix's thoughts were in turmoil. The woman he held in his arms was
provocative and intelligent. She was also Nicholas' partner. He finally
pulled away and let Tracy take a much-needed breath. She cleared her
throat and whispered, "That was...well...extremely...uh...wow!" She
blushed attractively, bringing the sweet scent of her blood rushing to
his senses.
"Forgive my impulsive actions. Our time together this evening has been
most pleasurable, and I was moved by your kindness...and by your
beauty." He searched her face for a clue to her thoughts and saw the
look of confusion reach her eyes. "But I must warn you: I should very
much like to kiss you again."
"I think I'd like that very much...but..."
"But?"
"But isn't it dangerous? For me, I mean. Because Vachon never..."
"Tracy," he answered gently, "Vachon was young. With age comes wisdom.
And control. If I was going to kill you, I would have done so by now."
"Oh. Well. I guess this means I have to trust you." Tracy looked at him
very seriously. "Trust isn't something that comes easily to me."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"I've been lied to a lot. All the time, in fact. I've already mentioned
Vachon's lies. And you know..." her voice trailed off as her eyes turned
distant, as if watching a faraway scene. "...my partner lies to me,
too."
"Detective Knight?" Lacroix asked with a half-smile.
"Yes. He hides things from me, and he really doesn't have to do that. He
should trust me. I know more than he thinks I do. Besides, I'm his
partner, after all." The room fell silent and then Tracy noticed the
clock on the wall. "Oh good grief! I didn't realize what time it was,
and I have got to get into the precinct to catch up on some paperwork
before my next shift starts." She stopped and looked at Lacroix. "I am
*not* running away, you know. I plan on coming back here as soon as I
can."
Lacroix smiled and then kissed her again, this time surrendering all
pretense of gentility. She tasted wonderful, and Lacroix's thoughts
turned to the possibilities this meeting had created. Nicholas would be
most unhappy that Tracy retained the knowledge of Vachon's death, but he
was bound to be absolutely fearful when he discovered Lacroix's current
thoughts concerning Tracy. He broke the kiss when he felt his fangs
threatening to descend. He was hungry. Time for her to leave. "I think
you'd better go on and get to your work, Miss Vetter. Remember...my door
is open to you whenever you are ready to return." His voice was deeper,
and Tracy sensed that she was walking in the proverbial lion's den.
"Right...I...." she tried to gather her thoughts as she dug for her keys
in her jacket pocket. "you know...I think I'd better call a cab." she
indicated her now-empty glass.
"I'll handle that for you," he said as he picked up the slim-line phone
and then made a quick call. After he hung up, he told her, "There will
be a cab waiting for out front in a few minutes."
"Thank you. I'll pick up my car later on."
"And you'll come back in at that time to finish our conversation?"
"I don't know about *finishing* it, but I'd like to continue
our...conversation." She took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
"Good night, Lacroix."
"Good night, my dear."
Tracy walked out of the Raven, and the ancient vampire watched as he
traced the outline of the cameo necklace that rested in his pocket.
==========END
January 27, 1999
Questions, comments, and virtual 'big sleeps' to miltonsfire@pronet.net
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Cousin Laura -- The Original Dark CERK Perk
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http://www.oocities.com/Area51/Portal/6866/CERK.htm (Lacroix .wavs)
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