This story is #11 in a series.  The earlier stories can be
found at Mel's fanfic archive, Cousin Mary's Tracy Pages,
and on my website, www.angelfire.com/wi/CourageKnight.
Permission granted to Mel and Mary to archive this one,
too.

I would like to thank Laurie of the Isles for her excellent
skills as a beta-reader.  Your thoughts and suggestions were
perfect.  Thank you for taking the time to help me in this
way. Also, I'd like to thank Kylie, whose sailing skills
were invaluable...as I have not been on a boat in some time.
Thanks also, Kylie, for the scene you suggested.  It is
included at the end of chapter 17.  Thanks, Portia, for the
title suggestion!

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja


Chapter one:

LaCroix reached for his robe and slipped into it quietly, so
as not to disturb his mortal lover.  It was only
mid-afternoon, but sleep had managed to elude him.  Natalie,
however, had worked late last night and would not likely
arise for several hours yet.  He turned to gaze at her, as
his thoughts wandered.

Her beauty did not meet the current popular fashions - her
eyes were too wide set, her face a little too square and her
nose turned up slightly, which was in contrast to today's
bone-thin twiggy blondes with big toothpaste grins and
perfect features.  Still, fashions come and go and he had
lived to see hundreds of definitions of beauty.

He discovered that he did admire her appearance.  The
mountains of riotous hair just begged to be touched.  The
wide, blue eyes sparked with life and vitality.  Her fuller,
rounder figure was more comforting to lie with, and her
curves seemed to fit just right.  She also possessed a keen
intellect and singular wit.  He enjoyed sparring with her on
occasion, and sometimes found that he had to adjust his own
perceptions afterwards.  It wasn't often he could learn
something new, and seldom from one so young.  She would make
a worthy mate.

Rising from the bed they shared, he moved on silent feet to
exit their private suite.  He wasn't hungry, but perhaps a
small glass of his favorite blend would help him to relax
and return to sleep.  As he poured, the carouche awoke as
well.  LaCroix poured a little cow blood in Perry's dish,
grateful to have found a good use for the noxious liquid.
Perry cocked his head and woofed softly before he lapped it
up.

LaCroix took his glass and looked in on each of his
progeny.  First he went to Tracy's room.  She lay curled
against Vachon's shoulder, blonde hair mingled with dark.
One slim hand lay over the young Spaniard's heart, almost a
protective gesture even in sleep.  Vachon looked much more
relaxed than he had in weeks.  The nightmares that had
plagued him ended when he exchanged blood with his twin.
LaCroix felt a stirring in his loins at the fresh young
vampires.  Perhaps if he remained awake much longer, he
would join them for a little late afternoon....

Turning away quickly, LaCroix peaked into his old bedroom
where Janette now rested with her newest fling.  The room
had been hers before she'd sold him the nightclub. Her
presence now seemed to restore balance.  Although she had
only been gone for a few years - an eyeblink for an immortal
- he had missed her.  She was different now, yet still the
same in all that mattered.  She had lost the power of a
millennium.  She remained elegant and aloof, a little
condescending and self-centered.  She would add spice to his
little home.

She had told him some unsettling news, fearing the Enforcers
were after "her master."  Both had decided that the strange
note she'd received must have referred to him, since very
few knew Nicholas had become her master and fewer still
believed it.  LaCroix was not overly concerned.  It touched
him that she cared enough to hurry home to warn him.  He
thanked her, which surprised her.  "I shall always consider
you my daughter," LaCroix had whispered into her ear.

"And I shall always consider you a bossy grandpapa," she had
remarked lightly, before telling him in her blood her true
feelings.

The Inca was an oddity.  LaCroix had not yet formed an
opinion of him.  He and Vachon were as different from each
other as morning and night, and yet they were the same.
They were as magnetic poles, both the same and pushing
against each other.  They were dark, with black hair and
fathomless eyes.  Both were about the same height, weight,
and build.  But Amaru was elegant and refined while Vachon
was crude, uneducated and indifferent.  Amaru seemed
governed still by his mortal values, while Vachon had had no
values to speak of.  Yet Amaru did not seem brooding and
pensive, as Nicholas was wont to be.  Perhaps the Inca might
have a positive influence on his son?

LaCroix turned away from them to peer inside the only room
left.  A smile spread as he gazed at his beautiful child.
Nicholas lay on his side with an arm wrapped around the
cat.  The sheets were twisted and half off, revealing more
smooth, firm limbs than the private, solemn vampire
generally displayed.   Urs curled up against him, her arms
wrapped snuggly around his waist.  LaCroix scowled then.
Twin wounds in Nicholas' throat were still open, although
his son had been sleeping for hours.  Anger welled up inside
him.  It was so unjust that his son should still suffer from
this strange affliction!

Nicholas stirred in his sleep, his brow puckering and his
hand moved as though to push away some unseen threat.
LaCroix sheepishly acknowledged that he had somehow
disturbed his sleep by the fierce thoughts.  Silently, he
knelt before his favorite.

All is well my son, he thought, concentrating on the bond
they shared.  You may rest now.

He leaned over and licked at the twin wounds to speed their
healing and to reassure the sleeping vampire.

"Thanks, LaCroix," Nicholas murmured.

"Go back to sleep," he said.

The brow smoothed and relaxed; LaCroix sensed only vague,
halcyon thoughts from Nicholas.  Silently he left the room,
but still felt no more ready to return to bed than he had an
hour ago.  He settled in his favorite chair, wondering if
perhaps he should find something to read.

Perry trotted out and sat before him, looking at him
expectantly.

"I am concerned for him," LaCroix said.  "He has lived on
his own before, but it is different now.  He was always just
a little too naïve and trusting for his own good.  How much
more vulnerable will he be now that he is blind?"

Perry nodded companionably.

"You will not leave his side."  LaCroix dropped his mental
shields and allowed his ancient presence to wash over the
carouche, enforcing the command.  The carouche cowered for a
moment, going down on his paws and glancing up at him with
golden eyes, tail wagging hesitantly.  Then he stood,
hackles raised, and LaCroix sensed the carouche as well.

Strange, fantastic thoughts, pictorial images of a language
he did not speak, came to him, images of golden retriever
pups and his golden child, with Perry the alpha leader.  The
carouche bared his fangs and growled.

LaCroix laughed.  Again he wondered what it was about his
son that stirred the hearts of others?  All who met him
wanted him.  Some wanted to possess him, some to dominate
him, and some to kill him, but no one was ever indifferent.

"I will be taking Tracy to Chateau Moliere.  It is near
South Harbor on Mount Desert Island in Maine.  It will be
difficult to reach me.  There are no telephones and the
closest community is on the mainland.  If you should run
into trouble, stay with Nicholas and send someone else to
get me."

The carouche seemed to nod, and LaCroix was struck again at
his apparent intelligence.  The carouche had a good deal
more of it than a lot of vampires he knew.  They fell into
companionable silence then, sensing one another yet not
really communicating.  LaCroix felt a little drowsy.
Perhaps the carouche had a calming effect?  He might be
worth keeping around...  LaCroix shuddered as a yawn
threatened to escape.

There was a stirring from down the hall.  Vampire and
carouche turned as one.  The Inca, still impeccable even at
this hour of the day, entered.  He came before LaCroix and
waited respectfully until the ancient invited him to sit.

"I wish to speak with you regarding Janette," the younger
vampire began.

LaCroix's only response was a raised eyebrow.  That much he
could have guessed.

Amaru shifted once, the first gesture of unease LaCroix had
ever witnessed.  He smiled predatorily as he found the
weakness in the Inca's armor.

Amaru wasn't sure how to proceed.  When he had written the
"anonymous" warning note for Janette, it had been to
encourage her to go home where she would be safe.  He had
her best interests at heart, but she had told LaCroix about
the note.  The Inca wondered how the ancient vampire would
take the deception?  He knew something of the abusive power
the ancient was capable of wielding and had no wish to learn
more first hand.  Besides, if LaCroix knew, then he might
pass the information to Janette through blood and she would
once again be vulnerable.  No, her only protection was to
stay here with her master leaving Amaru free to search for
the vampire threat.  If LaCroix continued to think that he
was in danger, well, that could not be helped.  Amaru
glanced at the General again and didn't think that much ever
ruffled his feathers.

"I have business to attend to.  She is much too young to be
alone in the world, and entirely to stubborn to realize it.
I would like to leave her in your care until I return."

LaCroix chuckled at the Inca's description of his one-time
daughter.  It was fitting.  He suspected that Janette would
balk at his protection as well, and since she was no longer
his child, he had little control over her.  He wondered if
his son would ever be able to assume his responsibility as
her master?  Probably not.  Nicholas had a few other progeny
still and he never saw them.   LaCroix would be leaving with
Tracy, though... She was looking forward to it, and he did
not want to disappoint her.

"I will see that she is safe and protected," LaCroix said
smoothly.

"You shall have to tell me your secret, then," Amaru
replied.

The chuckle deepened into a laugh at the frustration
radiating from the younger vampire.  He would hire Diggin,
of course.  He had wanted to send Diggin to Montreal, but
Nicholas was too aware of him now.  With his obstinate,
difficult children, it was best if they did not know they
were being watched.

"Have you and the Spaniard made your peace?" LaCroix asked,
surprised that he should care.

Amaru shrugged, a small gesture that was identical to
Vachon.  "Perhaps.  For now, until he irritates me again,
which will undoubtedly be the day I return."

LaCroix smiled.  The vampire twins were certainly
interesting.  Infants were a lot of care and masters seldom
undertook the double chore of creating twins.  No wonder
their master went to greet the sun after she'd realized what
she had done.  Still, it would be amusing to have them in
his family group for a time.  Gold flecked his eyes as he
imagined Amaru's initiation.  Draining his glass abruptly,
LaCroix arose.  It was time to rejoin Natalie.

"Until you return," he promised.

Amaru jumped, sensing something ominous in the simple
phrase. "Good day, LaCroix," he stammered.

Perry watched them leave, each to their mate.  It had been
too long since he had had a pleasant romp with some sweet
bitch.  Perhaps when Nicholas was safely home from the blind
school, Perry could take a few nights off?  With a wide yawn
and a sigh, the carouche leaped back onto Nicholas' bed and
circled around before flopping over his feet, and dreamed.


end, part 1

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja


Chapter two:

Janette flounced on Nick's bed and pouted.  "Tell me again
where you are going?"
Nick reached for another shirt from his closet.  By texture,
style, and smell, he recognized it as the midnight blue
linen sport shirt Urs had given him.  He folded it and laid
it on top in the open suitcase.  "I am going back to school,
Janette.  For six weeks."

"But I just got back.  Can't you put this off a while
longer?"

Nick smiled ruefully.  He'd love to.  Every time he tried to
imagine getting on the plane and leaving, he felt sick to
his stomach and he knew he would never be able to do it.
Vachon had unwittingly saved the day when he suggested
taking their new boat.

"I've put this off too long already.  I have to do this," he
said quietly.

Janette caught her lower lip with her teeth as she regarded
him openly.  He had changed.  It was unusual for their kind,
for centuries could pass without notice.  Nick seemed
somehow more mature.  She felt tears prick at her eyes as
she mourned for the loving, faithful knight who had needed
and desired her above all else.

Nick closed the suitcase and went to kneel before her.  He
reached out and took her hands in his and brought them to
his lips.  "You will always be very special to me, mon
aimée."

She gasped, startled that he had read her thoughts so
clearly.  He had changed in more ways than one.  She pulled
one hand free and brushed through his hair, cupping his chin
tenderly.  "Study hard, Nicholas.  That you will return to
me."

He grinned.  "Naturelement."

Janette watched him latch the suitcase and begin to pack a
smaller carry-on bag.  With an exaggerated sigh, she rose
and left.  Amaru might still amuse her.


Nick hefted the suitcases.  Had he thought of everything?
Six weeks wasn't that long, really.  It would go quickly.
He carried them out and set them beside the front door.

"You must be eager, my son.  Your plane won't leave for
three more days," LaCroix commented dryly.

"I'm not taking the plane," Nick said.

LaCroix set his glass down and glared at his capricious
child. For three weeks now Nicholas had been vacillating -
to go or not to go - and driving him half-insane!  "You will
be on that plane, Nicholas, and that's final!"

Nick never flinched.  He came straight to LaCroix and faced
him calmly.  "I will go to the school.  I merely chose not
to take a plane.  Vachon and I are going to sail up the
lake."

For a few moments LaCroix fumed silently, while admiring the
silent strength he sensed in his son.  "You did not want my
driver to take you," he said reproachfully.  "You said you
had to go alone."

Nick smiled sheepishly.  "That's true.  Leaving you is going
to be hard enough.  I want to say my good-byes here."

LaCroix felt a sudden constriction in his throat.  Six weeks
was going to seem like an eternity!  And how would things
change over the summer?  Would the fragile relationship he
and Nicholas had made even survive?  What if Nicholas no
longer needed or wanted him in his life?  He pulled his
child in for a quick embrace.

Nick laughed softly as he endured the bear hug.  Just
moments ago he had reassured Janette, and now he sensed
insecurity from the strangest of places, his indomitable
master!  "You could write, you know," he said lightly.

"There is nothing I could write, my son, that I would want
anyone reading aloud to you."

"I promise to keep your letters private.  They have
computers that transcribe print into Braille, or read it
aloud with a voice synthesizer. Consider your letters "extra
homework"."

"Then I shall write at great length," LaCroix promised.
"And I shall expect a reply in kind."

The front door opened as Tracy and Vachon burst in.  They
had their arms around each other and the scent of their
blood fresh on their lips.  No bite marks remained, yet the
young couple fairly radiated contentment.

"Are these your bags?" Vachon asked, indicating Nick's
luggage.

"Hey, everybody!  Nick's leaving," Tracy called.

Urs, Janette, Amaru and Natalie all joined them in the small
living room, ending the private moment between master and
child.  Natalie hugged Nick, and cautioned him to take care
of himself.  Urs kissed him quietly.  She had said her
farewell privately earlier.  Janette kissed him, and Amaru
shook his hand.  Nick took a firm grip of Perry's harness
and started for the door.  With one hand still on the
doorframe, he stopped.  No one spoke, for they all knew how
difficult this decision had been for him.  Urs wanted to
comfort him, and Tracy wanted to kick his butt to urge him
through the door.

Then Nick whirled around, releasing his hold on the
harness.  "LaCroix!" he cried.

LaCroix came to him.  Nick flung his arms around his neck
and bit hard, sucking his master's essence desperately.
LaCroix closed his eyes, trying to shut out the others as
they witnessed the tender moment, and he concentrated on
reassuring his child.  He returned the bite, drawing only a
small taste of Nicholas before he tried to close the wound.

Nick licked the blood from his fangs but kept his face
buried in the protectiveness of his master's solid embrace.
"I am afraid," he whispered timidly.

"I know," LaCroix replied.  "But if I was truly afraid for
you, I would never let you go."

Nick straightened then and smiled at him.  "Of course.
Thank you."

LaCroix almost told him about Samson, the bodyguard he had
hired to follow Nicholas, but he held his tongue.  In eight
hundred years Nicholas had continually fought against his
protectiveness and yet was constantly endangering himself,
thereby reinforcing LaCroix's opinion that he still needed
to be protected.  Samson's task would be impossible if
Nicholas knew he was there.

Samson was not his first choice.  The vampire was younger
than Diggin, and not as diligent.  He would take his job
seriously only until something pretty came along to distract
him.  But Nicholas was too aware of Diggin, perhaps because
of the familial tie.  Janette, unfortunately, was too weak
to sense Diggin with any regularity.  Still, her weakness
now would protect her, since Diggin would be able to guard
her even from her own foolishness.

Nick reached for Perry's harness again and this time, he
left.  All assembled stared at the closed door for several
minutes before silently drifting away.  Each sensed that the
heart of the family had been taken from them.

Dancing in the Dark
by Lorelei Sieja


Vachon tossed Nick's suitcases in the back of his van.
"Man, I didn't honestly think we'd get out of there."

Nick opened the door and climbed in.  He wished he could say
something witty or stupid, anything to loosen the tightness
in his chest, but nothing came to mind.  Vachon didn't make
any other comment.  He climbed in the driver's seat and
drove off.

The first block passed, and then a second.  Nick felt
LaCroix in his mind, felt the link begin to fade.  He sensed
loneliness already, overwhelming sadness, but no fear.
Then, carefully, the link between them ended as if LaCroix
sensed Nick's presence and shut the metaphysical door
between them.  Nick rubbed at his stomach.  A vile taste
burned his throat.

Wordlessly, Vachon pulled over to the curb and waited while
Nick threw open the door and knelt over the gutter.  He
sighed, hoping his friend wouldn't do this all the way to
Montreal.  Just listening to him puke was enough to unsettle
Vachon's stomach as well.

Nick stood uneasily.  He felt weak and a little dizzy, but
he knew from long experience that the sensation would pass.
He groped for the van door and pulled himself back inside.
Perry laid his head on Nick's lap and whined softly.  Nick
patted him.  "Let's go," he said, forcing a cheerfulness he
didn't feel.

Vachon drove on.  They had only finished the paperwork on
the boat the night before, after which they had packed all
the bottles LaCroix had given Nick for this trip, plus more
for Vachon and Perry.  Dawn had driven them home.  Now, with
the night still young and the winds promising a pleasant
beginner's ride at 15 knots, they should have a good sail
before they'd need to throw out the anchor for the day.

At the harbor, Nick seemed to change.  He grinned at Vachon,
a heart-stopping, boyish expression of sheer delight.
Vachon smiled back, and allowed his own enthusiasm to run
loose.  "We should name her before we go," he said.  "And
drink a toast.  It's tradition."

"Aye, tha' t'is, laddy," Nick responded with a thick
brogue.  "An' "New Freedom" is a right fittin' name, if I do
say so meself."

Vachon laughed.  "New Freedom it is."  He poured a glass for
each of them, knowing that Nick needed it right now.  "To
New Freedom, new adventures, and a helluva good sail," he
said.

Nick cheered and drained his glass.  They both threw their
empty glasses at the hull of the boat, listening for the
tingle of breaking glass.  Vachon grabbed Nick's bags then,
and Perry grabbed Nick, as they flew out over the harbor to
the little sloop that they now owned.

Nick sat where Vachon indicated and listened attentively
while he received a crash course on modern sailing.  He
wrapped the jib sheet around his hand to secure it.  He
heard Vachon grunt and curse amicably as he tugged another
sheet to hoist the mainsail, then take his place at the
tiller.  Almost at once Nick felt the tug as the wind caught
the sails, and then they were off!

Vachon gently instructed him: spill off some air, tighten
the sheet, and tack.  That was the hardest part, for it
often had to be done swiftly, but if he wasn't careful, he
could knock himself out when the jib boom swung across the
deck.  Then, he would settle on the opposite side and trim
the sail again.  The boat would cant slightly on edge, the
sounds of water spliced by the bow and passing on either
side, even the night sounds of gulls over the water, all
lent to the sense of adventure.  Nick couldn't seem to stop
grinning.  He felt like a kid with a new pony, ten feet tall
and rich as a king!

Perry swallowed yet again as the boat made a sudden dip and
left his stomach wishing it had stayed home.  With growing
dread, he realized how much his charge was enjoying himself,
when Perry hoped something dreadful would happen to the boat
and he'd never have to sail again.  He struggled to keep
from vomiting, and had renewed empathy for what Nicholas had
been suffering these past six months.

Vachon smiled up at the familiar constellations.  The Big
Dipper, Little Dipper, Cassiopeia, and all the rest, were
welcome friends of the night.  The boat had the latest in
computerized navigational equipment, but Vachon preferred
the sextant and stars for steering a course.  He gazed at
his companion.  Nick hadn't looked this happy since ever.
Not in all the two years Vachon had known him!  He felt his
fangs drop at the thought of how they would spend their
day.  Nick's blood was delicious even on a bad day, how much
better he would taste come dawn!

*****

Tracy went to her room and pulled out a suitcase.  LaCroix
had told her nothing about where he was taking her.  She had
no idea what to pack.  Somehow, she doubted that her cut-off
jean shorts and Blue Jays tee shirts would be appropriate,
but then, what would?  She reached out hesitantly through
the bond to find her master.  He was in his private suite,
but he seemed closed in on himself.  She sighed.  Now was
probably not a good time to interrupt.  She was still a
little shocked that LaCroix had actually let Nick leave.

Hurriedly, she tossed in some casual clothes, one cocktail
dress, other necessities, and zipped it shut.  Then she
slipped downstairs into the Nightclub.  LaCroix would be
able to find her when he was ready.  She wasn't going to sit
around the apartment, which had the feel of a tomb right
now.  The mortal band was too loud and lacked any real
talent, she thought critically, as she accepted the drink
Patrick poured for her.  But then, Vachon had an unfair
advantage of nearly five centuries of practice!

She missed him already... and hoped Vachon was taking good
care of him.

*****

Natalie finished dressing for work, tucking a scrunchy in
her pocket to tie back her hair later.  "So when are you
leaving?" she asked LaCroix, who hadn't said in word in over
half an hour.

His shoulders raised and lowered as he sighed.  "Shortly, I
suppose," he said with seeming indifference.

"You know, you'll have to chuck that attitude or you'll hurt
Tracy's feelings," Nat said.

The ancient vampire made no response that he had even
heard.  Nat sat down beside him and took his hand in hers,
patting it reassuringly.  "Why did you let him go?" she
asked.

"He will be safer there," LaCroix said softly.

Nat's eyebrows shot up.  "Why?  Are you expecting trouble?"

"No.  No one ever expects it then, do they?"  He pulled his
hand from hers and draped an arm around her shoulders.
"Janette thinks that I may be in danger.  She received a
note threatening "her master".  Since no one in the
community really knows what happened between her and
Nicholas, she believes the note refers to me."

Natalie gasped.  "You?  In Danger?  Why?  What for?  What
are you going to do?"

LaCroix chuckled.  "I assure you, my dear, I am in no
danger.  Whatever vampire holds whatever grudge, real or
imagined, is no threat to me."

"You sent him away to protect him then," she stated.  She
saw the satisfied look and knew she'd guessed right.  "But
what about Tracy? If you're the target, isn't it dangerous
to keep her with you?"

LaCroix didn't answer at first.  He rose from the couch and
went to the window that over looked the city.  He drew in a
deep breath, his voice sounded flat.  "If I am stronger,
then she is safest at my side where I can protect her.  If I
am weaker, we will both die.  That is our way, Natalie.
Your world cannot protect her.  Mine will not."

Natalie checked her watch.  She was going to be late, but
that didn't matter.  Lucien was leaving tonight, and
regardless of the confidence he proclaimed, there was still
a possibility she might not see him again.  As old and
powerful as he was, she was terrified that there could be
another even older.

"Lucien.  You take care, you hear?" she murmured, coming up
behind him to wrap her arms around his waste.

He patted her hands, then pulled her around and embraced
her.  He kissed her forehead.  "Always, my dear.  And you
enjoy your cruise."

She forced a smile.  Unable to speak, she kissed him again
and waved, then grabbed her purse and left.

*****

Amaru departed next.  He gave Janette no explanation and no
promise of when he'd return.  It was the rule she had set
when first they'd met, to protect herself from another
possessive, suffocating lover, but now she regretted it.
Although his blood promised he loved her, he had never
spoken the words.  He called her his "little bird, little
mosquito," and "sweet infant," but never his lover.  Janette
wept two large tears of self-indulgent loneliness.  Then she
dried her eyes and went in search of better entertainment.

The Raven called to her.  It had been her home for twenty
years, and many faces still looked familiar.  Patrick was
new, as Miklos had left when she had, but he smiled at her
congenially.

"House special, Missy Boss?" he asked.

She cocked an eyebrow at the moniker.  Patrick filled a
glass and passed it to her, carrying on a conversation as
though they were old acquaintances.

"Boss Jr. has talked about you some, and Alma; I feel like I
know you already," he replied.

Janette laughed.  "Well, Patrick?  I know nothing about you
- a situation we shall have to rectify immediately."

His eyes widened in shock, wondering if she was truly
offering what it sounded like.  He glanced around the bar
already filling with customers.  "Ah, Ma'am, I," he
stammered.

Janette sent Alma to work behind the bar with no more than a
gesture, before tugging the bartender into the backroom.

****

Dancing in the Dark
by Lorelei Sieja


"Why aren't you finished packing yet," LaCroix asked, as he
joined her in the nightclub.

Tracy fidgeted.  "I am, sort of, mostly.  Only, I didn't
know what I should bring.   I mean, where are we going?"

He nodded, accepting her excuse.  "Yes, of course.  Forgive
me, child.  It has been rather hectic here lately, hasn't
it?"

Tracy giggled nervously.  She loved her vampire father.  She
feared and respected him, but she didn't feel comfortable in
his presence.

"We are going to Chateau Moliere.  It is a hotel owned by an
elder member of the community, and I have reserved the
entire establishment for six weeks.  It is on the coast of
Maine, but this time of year the weather should be
pleasant.  Since we will not be going out publicly other
than the flight there and back, you may dress in whatever
you find comfortable."

Tracy heaved a sigh of relief.  "Great.  Then I'm all set,
Dad," she said, and reached up on her toes to peck his
cheek.

LaCroix huffed with exaggerated irritation, but his dimple
winked an appearance.  He called the driver to fetch their
bags, then they settled in his limo for the drive to the
airport.

Tracy leaned back into the soft cushions, reveling in the
wealth and comfort her new parent could provide.  She gazed
up at him, wondering if he'd mind if she told him how she
felt.  Probably.  LaCroix didn't care for too much honesty
in communication.  Her love and gratitude would be manifest
in every drop of blood he took from her, so perhaps
verbalizing it wasn't necessary.  She snuggled up closer to
him.

LaCroix smiled at his impetuous infant.  She was learning,
he acknowledged, grateful that she hadn't peppered him with
a thousand questions by now.  Still, her effervescent
personality remained, youthful and vital, amusing and not
too irritating.  He knew she was curious about the trip and
wondered how long she would be patient.

Where was Nicholas by now, he wondered, suffering a sharp
pain of loss.  Caring for his son had filled his days and
nights for nearly six months.  He missed feeling needed,
wanted, by the one who had so often pushed him away.  With
firm restraint, he forced his thoughts to turn away.
Perhaps engaging Tracy in idle conversation would do them
both some good.

"It is time for you to learn another language," he began.

"Really?  I always wanted to, but I don't have much of a
knack for it.  I mean, I tried French in high school, and I
failed miserably.  I don't think I can even find my way to
the bathroom without pointing to a picture."

LaCroix brushed aside her fears indifferently.  "You are no
longer limited by your mortal inadequacies, my dear.  We are
superior in every way, and acquiring new languages is a
simple matter.  I think we will concentrate on Spanish,
first, unless you have another preference."

"No, Spanish if fine," she said.  "It'll be cool, really.
Vachon and Nick were trying to talk in Latin once, when they
didn't want Urs and me to understand, but Vachon's Latin
sounded more like Spanish.  I don't think he went to church
much as a boy.  I mean, Nick knows a whole lot more Latin
than he does."

"Nicholas's Latin was deplorable before I tutored him,"
LaCroix sniffed.  "But you are right about Vachon.  He had a
very different childhood from Nicholas."

"Really?  He told you?  What was it like?  Did you know him
then?"

LaCroix chuckled.  He had been right to talk with her, as
the loneliness faded beneath the sunny warmth of her
affection.  He told her a few snippets of Vachon's life,
then brought the conversation back to the topics of her
education.

Tracy plastered a smile on her face, hoping LaCroix would
not look too closely.  Deportment?  Rhetoric?  Philosophy?
How would these make her a better vampire?  She wanted to
refine her whammy, to control her strength so she wouldn't
ever hurt someone in anger again, and to understand her new
culture.

The limo stopped and the driver opened their doors.  Tracy
stood, stretching her legs.  She loved to fly, with or
without a plane.  She looped her arm through LaCroix's and
followed his lead.  The crowds always seemed to part for
him, as though the unsuspecting mortals had no wish to rub
elbows with the ancient vampire.  Never had she been ushered
through the masses and to her seat - in first class, of
course - so swiftly!

LaCroix withdrew a book from his carry-on luggage to read on
the journey, so their conversation ended.  Tracy flipped
through the in-flight magazine restlessly and wondered how
Nick was faring.




Chapter three:

Natalie could not concentrate.  She had no interest in her
job these days, and when she uncovered the cause of death,
she had no interest in running the report over to the
precinct.  Neither Nick nor Tracy would be there.  Then
after work she didn't care to visit the Raven.  Janette had
ensconced herself there, and Natalie couldn't find a
friendly face anywhere.  She still returned to LaCroix's
apartment, as it was more her home than Janette's, but it
was strained.  Janette took every opportunity to make her
feel inferior, and shy, quiet Urs was caught in the middle.
Natalie had to get away!

She had two more days before her cruise.  Just two more
days; she could survive.  Natalie had never done anything
like it before, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Tracy wasn't the only one who needed time to adjust.
Natalie's world was changing, but she hadn't changed with
it.  She was no longer in love with Nick.  For six years she
had defined her life around him.  Now, he was a dear friend,
but he was not her soul reason for living.

LaCroix was her lover, but not her life, either.  She wasn't
sure how she felt about him.  She loved feeling special,
like she did the night he took her to the symphony.  She
loved talking with him, even arguing with him.  He was
intelligent and formidable.  But, she wasn't sure she loved
him. LaCroix was a two thousand year old vampire master,
capable of unbelievable maliciousness, capable of murder.
He had killed and he would kill again.  Could she live with
someone like that?  Should she even want to?

Natalie hoped that this two-week cruise from Nova Scotia
down to the Bahamas and back would give her some time to put
her life in order.  Perhaps, if she put some distance
between her and her Toronto ties, she could finally discern
what she wanted.

*****

Tristan melted into the shadows as he observed the mortal
woman.  She had been the topic of one too many council
gatherings.  Some charged that she had knowledge of the
community and must pay the price.  Others argued that it was
her work and not LaCroix that found a cure for the Fever,
and therefore she deserved their protection.  Those faithful
to LaCroix insisted that LaCroix had discovered the cure,
and even their blood revealed that they spoke truth as they
knew it. Discord was common at council meetings, but this
had gone on long enough.  Tristan was to gather information
on the mortal and report back.

He followed her when she left her work.  She went to a
drive-through to order breakfast, then to the Raven.  That
might be evidence, though only circumstantial.  The Raven
belonged to LaCroix, yet hundreds of mortals frequented it.
Tristan went inside and mingled with the crowds to better
observe her.  She seemed to know the bartender and LaCroix's
offspring, Janette.  There was no love lost there... he
smirked into his drink.  He had not ever had the opportunity
to meet the lovely Janette, which was the main reason he had
been given this assignment, but he had heard of her.  His
fangs itched.  Until this assignment was completed, that was
one desire he would have to deny.  He drained his beverage
and signaled the waitress to bring him another.

The mortal had two drinks, then left.  Tristan nearly gave
himself away, so startled was he to see her open the door to
LaCroix's private apartment!  She whirled around, her eyes
wide, as she searched the corridor.  She did not see him,
but she pushed open the door and slammed it shut behind her,
locking it securely.

That was definitely odd.  It was almost enough, although if
she were merely LaCroix's thrall and still ignorant, then it
would greatly displease a respected elder of the community
to end her short life.  He needed something solid, proof one
way or another...  but dawn was approaching.  He could not
stay here.

*****

"Hello, Nat," Urs said sweetly.

Natalie offered her a smile.  Her opinion of the shy, quiet
vampire had changed much over the past year.  At first she
had been angry and jealous, but now she saw Urs as someone
who might even become a friend if given half a chance.
"Hello, Urs.  How've you been?"

"Missing him," she answered truthfully.  "It's going to be a
long summer."

Nat agreed.  "You should make some plans of your own, go
somewhere, do something exciting.  Don't just sit around and
feel lonely."

Urs shrugged, the simple gesture a unique blend of the
sensual and innocent.  "I thought about it.  But I have a
new job, and six customers depending on me.  Maybe in a few
months I'll hire an assistant, but for now I like being
independent."

Natalie kicked off her shoes and tried to shrug off the
uncomfortable feeling she'd had in the hall, the feeling
that some one was watching her.  She'd had it all night.
Maybe it was just her overactive imagination running wild
because her lover and protector had left.  "So, you really
like this job?"

Urs laughed.  "Not you, too?"

"What do you mean?"

"I battled Nick's snobbishness for months.  He felt that
cleaning houses was too plebian."

Natalie laughed self-consciously.  "I know that house
cleaning companies have really come up in the world.  They
charge more, for one.  I guess I just can't imagine any one
really liking to do something I'd pay anything not to have
to do again for as long as I live."

Urs laughed again.  "Well, to be honest, I would never want
your job, either, Natalie."

"I guess you're right," she admitted, joining her in
laughter.

"Now isn't that sweet," Janette purred, her voice syrupy as
she came in.  "Aren't we just the perfect little family?"

Urs rose quietly.  "Welcome home, Janette," she said.  "I
think I shall retire."

"Coward," Nat muttered under her breath.  "Janette, I felt
something tonight.  Like I was being followed."

"So report it to the police, dear.  Isn't that what you
mortals do?"

"Janette!  I think he was a vampire."

Janette laughed, making an exaggerated gesture of
indifference.  "That, my dear, is impossible.  If a vampire
wanted you, you would be dead.  Good night."

Natalie shuddered.  She wasn't sure why Janette said such
hurtful things... it wasn't like she was still vying for
Nick's affection.  Still, she was right about one thing.  If
a vampire really wanted her dead, she wouldn't be here to
worry about it.  Perhaps she could sleep after all.

Dancing in the Dark
by Lorelei Sieja


Chapter Four:

Vachon lowered the mainsail and tied it to the boom.  Dawn
was drawing near.  It was time to drop anchor.

"What can I do," Nick asked.

Vachon glanced up mast.  It would be easier to wrap the jib
around the forestay himself, but he wanted Nick to enjoy
sailing.  He hoped this was only the first of many
adventures together.  Keeping close to Nick, and
unobtrusively protective, he instructed him to releasing the
port and starboard ropes and pulled in the forestay.  Then
Nick helped him pull down the mail sail, pack and tie it
against the boom.  When the sails were both battened down,
the sheets coiled and locked, the anchor lowered and locked,
Vachon looked around thoughtfully.

Vachon brought Nick below, reminding him to duck through the
stairs.  There the boat scrimped on space and anyone taller
than five feet was at risk of knocking themselves out.  It
was the only design flaw he'd found so far.  Hopefully, it
would be the last.

The kitchen was tiny, but not awkwardly so.  He showed Nick
where the refrigerator was, so the vampire could find it
himself if he woke up hungry in the middle of the day, then
helped him to the table.  Nick reached into his pocket and
pulled out his deck of cards.

"Up for a game?"

"Deal me in," Vachon said.

"What about you, Perry?"

The carouche whined pathetically without even raising his
head from the bed.  Vachon chuckled.  "I don't think he's
found his sea legs yet."

Nick tried to sense the carouche.  "Will you be okay?" he
asked.

Perry groaned.  He didn't need Nick worrying about him.  The
young vampire worried about every thing else under the sun.
Although he felt like dying, and wished the demon god of the
sea would sink the boat permanently, he tried to turn the
vampire's attention away.  He snapped irritably.

"Okay," Nick said.  "Hope you feel better."  He dealt out
several hands of Black Jack, then Gin, but before long he
felt the familiar lethargy steal over him.

Vachon gathered up the cards.  Nick stood and stretched.
Often times at home he and Urs would sit in the hot tub
before retiring.  Now he would find new routines.
Concentrating, he tried to recall the layout of the small
yacht from his last trip here.

Vachon lead him to the master bed.  "We could flip for it,
or share it, whichever you prefer," he said, trying to sound
casual.

Nick grinned.  "Well, since we are both master of the boat,
I suppose we should share it."

Vachon needed no further encouragement.  He tugged Nick's
shirt free from the waistband of his pants and unbuttoned
it.  Nick had always been very private, layering his
clothing and keeping it firmly buttoned, but since his
blindness he'd loosened up considerably.  Perhaps, because
he could no longer see himself, he was less concerned with
how he looked.

Nick reached for him, tugging his shirt free as well.
Within moments they were undressed and crawled onto the
bed.  The swell of the waves gently rocked them, the sighing
wind sang their lullaby, and silently through the kiss of
blood, they satisfied all their desires.




Chapter five:


The Chateau Moliere was the most elegant building Tracy had
ever seen in her entire life.  It sat proudly at the peak of
a lesser mount, with smooth columns of polished rose quartz
that spanned the entire length of the three-story antebellum
structure.  The front hall seemed otherworldly, as the
softest sound echoed in the open area.  No doorman was there
to take their bags, no host to welcome them.  A concert
grand piano sat idle in the massive ballroom, and dozens of
comfortable couches and occasional chairs beckoned to be
used.  Crystal chandeliers reflected small diamonds of
light. Tracy stood in awe, wondering if she should go back
outside and wipe her shoes more diligently.

"As I said before, we have the entire hotel to ourselves,"
LaCroix said, interrupting the silence.  "You may select any
room for your own."

Tracy giggled excitedly.  She shouldered her bags and flew
up the wide double stairs to the second level and quickly
began inspecting all her options.  None of the doors had
locks on them!  But then, locks wouldn't stop a vampire,
anyway.  The rooms were all similar, like most motels, with
one or two queen-sized beds in each, end tables and lamps,
but differed in the quality of the furnishings and that
every room had a full entertainment center.  The room at the
far north end had a private balcony, and was done in dusty
rose with moss green accents.  She tossed her bags in on the
bed to stake her claim.

LaCroix selected the room directly across the hall.  Tracy
peeked around the door.  His room was crimson and black -
two colors she had come to associate with him.  He
meticulously removed his clothing from the suitcases, laying
some in the dresser and hanging the rest in the closet.
"There is still a few hours until dawn, my dear.  Come
downstairs after you have unpacked and we will begin."

She had a whole six weeks in this glorious tomb, with no
one's company but LaCroix.  Tracy sighed, wondering how long
the excitement would last.  She shrugged.  For now it was
fun.  Perhaps if she proved too irritating, he would end
their stay here early?

LaCroix rose from a chair when she came downstairs.  He
opened the front door and held it for her.  So, they were
going out....  She tried to hold her curiosity in check.  If
only he would tell her what he had in mind!  LaCroix rose
into the night sky and Tracy quickly followed.

Mount Desert Island spread out below them with its soft
green-carpeted mountains and valleys.  Tacky white
farmhouses, rusted trailer houses, abandoned vehicles, and
tiny vegetable gardens shouted man's presence, while the
moss-covered granite, wild blueberries, and massive pines
whispered eternity.  The solid bridge to the mainland passed
below, and then they flew out over farms.  A small band of
migrant workers were skinny-dipping in a stream that flowed
through the large potato farm where they were currently
employed.  LaCroix landed near them and headed in their
direction on foot.  Tracy felt a thread of anxiety.  As yet,
she had not killed anything except a few dozen rats.
Although her mortal inhibitions were falling aside with
surprising ease, this was one thing she did not think she
would ever be able to do.

LaCroix stayed in the shadows out of sight from the small
group and compelled one man to come to him.  Tracy's eyes
grew large, she swallowed nervously.  The man walked like
one sleeping, straight to the ancient master.  LaCroix
turned him, holding him against his chest with one arm and
loosened the kerchief tied around his neck.  His nose
crinkled a moment at the distasteful odor.  The man smelled
of sweat, tobacco, and gasoline.  He pulled the man's head
to one side, baring the throat, and offered him to Tracy.

She gulped again and shuddered.  "LaCroix, I... I don't want
to do this," she murmured.

His eyes blazed.  "That is of no relevance.  You will do it
now!"

She felt a blood sweat break out and trickle down her back,
making her shirt stick to her skin.  She felt LaCroix in her
mind, urging her to comply.  She stepped closer.  Now she
smelled the man as well.  Beneath the sweat and tobacco, his
blood called to her.  It was hot and pulsing.  She had never
tasted human blood fresh from the source before!  She leaned
closer, until her teeth grazed against the stubbled whiskers
of his throat.  Standing on her toes, she moved further
back, behind the ear where the skin was smooth.  Then she
sank her fangs and drank.

Juan Diego Salazar, illegal alien from Mexico, one of six
children in the Salazar family, migrated from state to
state, sometimes digging potatoes or hoeing cabbages,
sometimes harvesting sugar beets, or corn, he scrimped where
he could, sleeping under his truck in warm weather and
inside the truck in cold, to send his money back to Texas to
give to an uncle to bribe an official to look the other way,
to bring another brother over here, where they hoped to
share the American Dream.  His life filled her, his hopes
and disappointments, and his language.

LaCroix tugged her, forcing her to release the man.
"Enough, my daughter.  You shall not kill him tonight."

She stared up at him, confused, Salazar's blood still
dripping from her fangs.  "You don't want me to kill?"  She
knew she was elated, yet something primal surged within,
demanding she finish the task.

"No, Tracy.  Tonight's lesson is Spanish.  Comprendes?"

A grin split her face.  She did!  She knew Spanish!  All of
it!  She could say anything, even think in Spanish!  It was
so easy!

LaCroix lapped at Salazar's throat to close the wounds.
Then he shook the man to wake him.  "You have had too much
to drink," he said, planting the suggestion firmly.  "You
are tired.  You will sleep well, and tomorrow you will not
remember this moment."

Salazar murmured his agreement and left.  His companions
called to him, but he ignored them as he staggered towards
his truck.  Tracy understood their teasing jeers.

"All that Juan knew, you know, but this knowledge is already
beginning to fade.  Your vampire blood is absorbing his,
changing it, using it to nourish you.  When the last of his
blood is gone, the knowledge contained in his blood will
pass as well."

Tracy grunted.  "Easy come, easy go."

LaCroix lifted an eyebrow at her expression.  "You must take
his memories and make them your own.  While you have his
knowledge, use it.  Speak it.  Everything that you say, you
will lock into your perfect memory and retain.  Let us join
his companions... would you care to take a dip with them?"

She grinned broadly.  "Are you going to swim, too?"

LaCroix ignored her question, sniffing disdainfully as he
stepped out of the shadows and joined the small band of
mortals.

The easy camaraderie quickly changed to suspicion.   LaCroix
ignored them, gesturing to Tracy.  "Mi hija, Tracy.  Soy
LaCroix. Podriamos compartir el arroya con usted?"  (My
daughter, Tracy.  I am LaCroix.  May we share the stream
with you?)

One young man whistled suggestively.  Tracy didn't care.
She was stronger than they, and her master was here.  She
shimmied out of her clothes and ran into the icy cold,
spring fed stream.  Some of the girls hesitantly spoke to
her.  When she replied fluently, even with the dialect of
their neighborhood, she was instantly welcomed.  They swam
and chatted, dunking and splashing, and later gathered
around a small campfire to dry.  The workers skin was
pimpled with the chill of the late night air, but Tracy was
comfortable.  She learned their names, their families,
theirs plans to have a dance on Friday and would she like to
come.  Then she pulled on her clothes and followed LaCroix
back to the Chateau Moliere before dawn.

Tracy was yawning uncontrollably as LaCroix lead her into
her room and undressed her.  "Eso esta tan fresco, LaCroix!
Pensé siempre que aprendiendo otro lenguaje sea duro, pero
ésa era diversión!"   (That this so fresh, LaCroix.  I
thought whenever learning another language is hard.  But
that one was fun!)

LaCroix winced at her poor grammar and poor attempt to
translate an English idiom.  Already the blood skill was
fading.  Still, he smiled at her indulgently.  Tracy could
be exhausting and impulsive, but she brought such life to
everything.  His fangs tingled.  He allowed them to drop.
"You have not yet mastered the language, my daughter.  You
will feed from them again, several times, then we will turn
to literature.  You will read Don Quixote before the summer
is over."

"Hm.  Great," she sighed sleepily, without much enthusiasm.

LaCroix pulled her into his embrace then.  Training
fledglings was never at the top of his favorite activities,
but it did have a few perks.  "Someta a mí, mi niña!" he
whispered in her ear, using the power of his voice.  "Déjeme
probar su sangre, su esencia... déjeme alimentar en usted,
porqué tengo hambre.  Mi bonita, mi infante. Ahora someta a
mí!"  (Submit to me, my daughter!  Let me taste your blood,
your essence... let me feed on you, for I hunger.  My
pretty, my infant.  Submit to me now!)

Tracy craned her neck to offer him her blood.  Maybe six
weeks with him all to herself wouldn't be so dull after all.

Dancing in the Dark
by Lorelei Sieja

Chapter six:

Natalie checked her watch yet again.  Two more hours and she
would be out of here, on her first real vacation in probably
six years.  She was going on a Bahamian cruise, not a
coroner's convention!  All the anxiety she'd been through
since meeting Nick, and since falling in love with LaCroix,
all the major decisions she had yet to make, were
temporarily put on hold.  She was planning to enjoy
herself!  To spend time alone, away from work and
responsibilities, to rediscover who she was.  Damn, if the
watch hands didn't start to move, maybe she'd just book off
early!

Her door burst open and Mike pushed a gurney inside bearing
the too-familiar black body bag.  "Sorry to drop this on
you, Nat.  I know you're leaving tomorrow.  Kind of a nasty
one to end with, too.  Guess you get used to it after a
while, don't you."

"Mike!  You didn't bring me another case did you?  Save this
one for the day shift."

"Can't," he said, shaking his head sadly.  "Captain wants
this guy I.D.ed pronto.  If not sooner."

Nat pulled on a pair of latex gloves with a weary sigh.  The
night was dragging anyway, she might as well get busy.
"Why?  What's important about him?"

He stayed her hand before she could undo the zipper.  "It's
bad, Nat.  I warned you.  He's all cut to pieces.  Captain
wants the perp off the streets yesterday."

Nat nodded, but she only half heard him.  The room seemed
suddenly colder.  She heard her own pulse thrum in her ears,
felt the hair on her neck prickle with an all-too familiar
recognition.  "Thanks, Mike," she said quickly.  She had to
get him out.  She took his arm in hers and walked him to the
door.  "Say hello to Melissa for me, okay?"

He laughed.  "You don't get out much, do you.  Melissa's
out.  It's Maggie now."

"All right.  Hi to Maggie.  Now go, so I can finish.  I have
a boat to catch."

"I'm going.  Have a great trip."

She peeked around the edge of the door until Mike was some
distance down the hall and not likely to return.  Then she
bolted the door.  Whom would she find inside the bag?  It
couldn't be Nick... he was safe on his boat somewhere
between here and wherever.  It couldn't be LaCroix, or
Vachon.  She clenched her fists and released them, searching
for the courage to pull the zipper.  "Blood," she murmured.
"If he's hurt, he'll need blood."

Pulling open the cooler, Nat counted out three packets and
set them on a tray.  She pushed the tray close to the bag.
"Now or never."  Nat grabbed the zipper and yanked it down.

The vampire didn't move.  He didn't look familiar, either.
Could she be mistaken?  Perhaps he was just another dead
body?  Pulling off a glove, she reached out hesitantly to
feel his cheek.  It was cold, but soft, not stiff with
death.  A mortal should still be warm.  She jumped back,
unwilling to be his first meal.

Beneath the dried blood of a dozen knife wounds, the dirt
and torn clothing, he was devilishly handsome.  Black hair,
pale complexion, smooth jaw.  Dark, elegant eyebrows, long,
straight nose; his features  were refined, even
sophisticated.  He must have been brought across somewhere
in his early thirties, although Nat knew that was no measure
of his true age.

Still, vampires were fairly indestructible.  How had he been
injured?  Was there another band of hunters on the loose?
Something didn't fit.  Nervously, she nudged the tray of
blood closer to him.

The vampire bolted upright and gazed at her with crimson
eyes.

"Blood, there, on the tray," she stammered.

He ignored the tray, rising instead to his feet and stalked
her.  Natalie took a step back and another, until the wall
stopped her from moving.  "Please," she whispered.  "Take
the blood.  Let me help you.  You've been injured, and we'll
have to get you out of here somehow without arousing
suspicion."

His head cocked to the side as he appeared to consider her
words.  Tristan was aching.  He had known his wounds would
have to be real, as he could not fool a coroner, but he had
not hurt like this in centuries.  He took the first packet
and drained it, the other two quickly followed.  "How to you
know about us," he demanded.

Natalie crossed her arms over her chest defensively.  "You
guys aren't as secretive as you might think.  Mind telling
me what happened?"

"Who is responsible for you?"

Nat stuffed her hands in the pockets of her lab coat to hide
their trembling.  Her ability to sense vampires had grown
since moving in with LaCroix.  Perhaps it was a result of
their lovemaking - maybe some of LaCroix's saliva mixed with
the blood in her veins, or the other body fluid was
absorbed, sensitizing her.  She hadn't had a chance to study
the phenomena as she had been devoting all of her spare time
to trying to help Nick.  Somehow she felt this vampire was
very old and powerful.  She didn't think he was quite as old
as LaCroix, perhaps, but there was something about him that
chilled her blood.

"We mortals are pretty much responsible for ourselves," she
answered.  While her life expectancy had just plummeted, she
didn't want to drag Nick down with her.

The vampire let his fangs erupt.  They were
monstrous-looking, longer and more dangerous that LaCroix's,
which she had come to think of as more sensual than deadly.
There was nothing erotic about the being before her now.
His eyes were blazing and his multiple wounds were quickly
fading.

Natalie blinked back the tears that threatened to spill,
desperately trying to think of an escape that didn't place
anyone else in danger.  "Do you need more blood?  I can get
more," she stammered.  "And you'll need a change of
clothes.  You know you can't be seen walking around like a
reject from the crypt.  What size are you?"

The vampire pressed her against the wall, his cold breath on
her neck.  She felt the fangs, felt her shirt collar pulled
to bare the skin, and she closed her eyes, wondering how
long anyone would mourn her passing.

Suddenly, the vampire released her.  She leaned against the
wall, willing her knees to support her, although she felt
faint and nauseated.  Her hand went to her throat.  She
fingered the area with growing surprise.  He had not bit
her!

"You belong to LaCroix?" he asked, the shock evident on his
face.

She was too scared to take offense at the archaic notions
that she should belong to anyone.  She simply nodded.

"This is most peculiar."

"You're telling me?" Nat quipped.  "When I studied
pathology, I never intended to become doctor to the undead.
Look, you need time to heal, and I'm leaving on vacation
tomorrow.  We need to cover for you and get you out of here
fast.  Then if you like, we can play twenty questions at the
Raven before I go."

The vampire nodded slowly.  He staggered when he tried to
take a step.  The doctor quickly took charge as she eased
him into a chair.  She handed him a fourth packet, then
carefully cut away the remains of his shirt, checking for
wounds.  The vampire did not seem to mind, she noted.  Nick
had always been so private, unwilling to expose any more
flesh than necessary.

"Do you have a name?" she asked.

"Tristan will do."

"Natalie," she said.  "Natalie Lambert.  How did you get
hurt?"  She couldn't find any more wounds, although new pink
skin covered the areas where the tattered shirt had been
stained with blood.  She knew that Nick was always very
tired after he had healed, tired and hungry.  It was a small
price to pay for such a fantastic ability to heal.  This
vampire seemed to have healed very quickly, though.  He was
either much older than Nick, or just that much healthier.

Tristan ignored her question, as he hadn't thought up a good
story.  He had never really intended to talk with her.  He
had thought he could just take the information from her,
make her forget she ever saw him, and be on his way.
Discovering she belonged to LaCroix changed everything.
Although Tristan's position with the Enforcers gave him
power over LaCroix, he did not want to cross swords with the
ancient unless it became absolutely necessary.  Pretending
weakness had given him an edge.  The mortal woman laid aside
her fears to help him, becoming more open and forthright.
He wondered just how far he could push the charade.

Natalie slipped off her lab coat and offered it to the
vampire.  "This should get you as far as my car. Okay?"

Tristan startled at her touch.  The warm, mortal hand
stirred him.  Five hundred years with the Enforcers, and
five hundred years before that, he had thought he was beyond
such pitiful excuses for pleasure as comfort and kindness!
Why did the skin tingle where she had touched him?  Why did
he feel his undead heart pound in his chest?  He should kill
her now and be done with it.

Natalie rolled up the body bag.  There were copious amounts
of blood in it, but she could stretch it out on the roof and
expose the vampire blood to sunlight.  The empty bag would
be easier to dispose of then.  She rolled a spare lab coat
around the black bundle and tucked it under her arm.
Shutting down the computer, she took one last glance around
the room before she flicked off the lights.

Grace wasn't around, thankfully, Nat thought as she hurried
her newest patient through the hall.  Where to now?  He
still wasn't fit to be seen anywhere, not even the Raven.
She stole a sidelong glance.  He was slightly built. Nothing
of LaCroix's would fit, but Nick had lost weight during the
six-month illness.  Some of his newer things might do.

She took Tristan through the back entrance and up to the
apartment, struggling to overcome the sensible warning bells
in her conscience that objected to inviting strange men
anywhere.  If he really wanted to harm her, there was little
she could do to protect herself.

Tristan looked around.  LaCroix's scent dominated the room.
It was his turf and Tristan couldn't help feeling like a
trespasser.  There was a feeling about the place that he
couldn't quite define.  The mix of scents, mostly vampire,
and Natalie's, of course.  There were as many as ten
different creatures living here!  Imagine!  Vampires were by
nature solitary beings.  How had they managed to form such
bonds without killing one another?

Natalie lead him to the main bathroom and hung a robe on the
back of the door.  "You should clean up.  I'll lay some
things on the foot of the bed," she said, indicating Nick's
room.

"Why are you helping me?" Tristan asked, confused.

"Because you need it.  Now hurry up.  I have a boat to catch
and I am not going to miss it."  She gave him a wide,
friendly smile.

Tristan showered, then pulled on a light blue shirt and a
pair of stone-washed jeans.  They were a little long, but
otherwise fit okay.  It would be enough to get him back to
his temporary apartment across town, while he thought about
what to do next.

The mortal woman greeted him with another smile and a full
glass of blood, most likely from LaCroix's own private
stock.  Tristan continued the charade of the injured vampire
and groaned softly as he settled onto the couch.  He sipped
at the blood wine, savoring the delicate flavor and envied
LaCroix.

"Now," she began.  "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I will, if you tell me why LaCroix hasn't brought you
across."  Tristan hoped she would have a good excuse.  Oddly
enough, he didn't want to see her harmed.

Natalie tucked her feet up under her.  She knew enough about
the Code to know that this vampire would feel it was his
duty to kill her.  Knowledge of their existence was
forbidden, absolutely, no exceptions.  At least he linked
her to LaCroix, which was definitely safer than getting Nick
involved.  "He plans to," she said then.  "But we are
waiting.  LaCroix doesn't really have time for another
infant right now, and I'm still a little unsure if I want
this.  He has promised that if I chose to remain mortal, he
will remove my knowledge and memories and they will quietly
leave Toronto."

The handsome vampire smiled, flashing white, perfect teeth.
"That is good," he replied.  His voice sounded cultured, and
with a slight English accent.  She wondered where he had
come from.  During the Fever, and since moving in above the
Raven, she had met most of the local community.  She had
never seen him before.

"I was careless," he replied, briefly telling her about his
injuries.  "A gang of indolent youths overpowered me."

"Street gangs.  That's what Captain Reese suspected.  What
are you going to do about it?"

The vampire stared at her evenly, not answering the
question.  Natalie blinked and looked away.  He would exact
his own justice and she could do nothing about it.
Sometimes she hated the position they put her in!

"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked, changing the
subject.

"Are you offering?"  Tristan wondered at the strange surge
of excitement that prospect offered.

"No.  I am not in the habit of picking up strays and I'm
sure LaCroix would not approve," she snapped, unashamedly
tossing out the name of the ancient vampire to offer her
some protection.  "However, LaCroix has been known to help
vampires in need on occasion.  You can check with the
bartender downstairs, if you like."

"Thanks," Tristan said.  "But I have a small apartment
across town.  Thank you for your help, Ms. Lambert.  I shall
be going.  I hope you enjoy your cruise."

Nat stood and followed him to the door.  "Thanks.  I do,
too.  You be more careful now."

Tristan smiled at her one last time.  "Good night."

Nat heaved a sigh of relief as the handsome vampire left.
Life with vampires was never boring.  Then she called the
cab to take her to the airport.

Chapter Seven:

Nick stood on the deck gripping the railing as he faced
towards the harbor.  He hated to see the journey end, not
only because he was uneasy about what might lie ahead, but
because he had thoroughly enjoyed the trip.  He felt relaxed
and contented, as he had never felt before.  Not once since
boarding the boat had his stomach rebelled.  He wondered
idly what it would be like to just stay on it forever.
Being blind wouldn't be such a handicap here... as long as
Vachon was with him.  No, maybe it wouldn't work, but
sailing certainly was something to look forward to again and
again.

The sails were down and Vachon was guiding the boat in to
the harbor under power.  The faint smell of gasoline and the
hum of the motor were almost obscene after the simple purity
of sailing.

"You okay, Nick?" Vachon asked.  "You seem pensive."

Nick rolled his shoulders.  "Yeah.  Fine.  So what are you
going to do?"

"LaCroix gave me the address for Montreal's equivalent of
the Raven.  I figure I'll head over there and hang out.
What about you?  Will you have any free time?"

"I guess.  I'm not sure.  I'll call you tomorrow and let you
know.  Maybe we can meet for a drink later."

Vachon dropped the anchor.  Searching the harbor for
mortals, he slung Nick's bags over his shoulder.  "Ready?"

Perry barked decidedly.  Nick laughed.  "It's a real shame
you don't like sailing," he said.  He took the harness, then
the vampires and carouche lifted into the night.

Vachon hung around.  Although Nick insisted he would be
fine, Vachon was anxious for him.  There were always people
who would try to take advantage of a blind man, and there
might be trouble with the local community as well.  Nick
seemed nervous, too.  He had called for a cab, but instead
of waiting patiently, he paced, fidgeted, patted the dog,
and began to pace again.  Vachon wished he could think of
something comforting to say but his mind was a blank.
Instead he remained silent and steadfast, amazed at the
depth of his feelings for the other vampire.

Nick heard the cab approach before either Vachon or Perry.
"It's about time," he muttered.  "You can leave now, and you
can write to that overprotective Roman bastard and tell him
you did your job."

"Nick, don't," Vachon said softly.

Nick winced.  He really enjoyed Vachon's company.  Most of
the time he acted like Nick was just a regular guy and not a
disabled liability.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "It isn't you."

"I know.  You're nervous, maybe a little scared.  It's
okay.  Do you want me to go with you?"

"No."

Vachon shrugged indifferently.  "That's fine.  You take
care, and give me a call.  'Bye."

Nick extended his hand, but when Vachon took it, Nick pulled
him into a quick embrace.  Then he straightened, and let the
younger vampire leave.

The cab pulled up in front.  He jumped out to toss Nick's
bags in the trunk while Nick and Perry climbed in the back
seat.  "À où?" he asked.

Nick switched naturally to French, answering, "The National
Institutes for the Blind."  He gave the street address he
had memorized.

The cab driver pulled away from the curb.  Nick leaned back
into the cushions and listened to the sounds of the city
around him.  Much was the same as Toronto, the street
noises, an airplane or two, the wind in the leaves and the
bustle of people.  But much was different.  Montreal had
it's own scent.  And the softer sounds of French were more
pleasing to the ear than English.  A long time had passed
since he lived here last and in spite of the gnawing pain in
his gut and the fear of what might lie ahead, he felt
strangely exhilarated.

The cab lurched; the driver, ducking in and out of traffic,
cursed expertly at the vehicles that dared to be in his
way.  Perry whined.  Although he had never been car sick
before, he was still uneasy from his ordeal at sea.  Nick
patted him affectionately.  "Almost there, boy."

The cab stopped.  "They expecting you?" he asked.

"Yes," Nick said.  "Why?"

"Place is surrounded by a gate and security system.  Just
seemed different."  The cabby rolled down his window and
pulled up close to the surveillance camera at the left of
the gate.  "I got a passenger," he said.

"Nicholas Knight," Nick informed him, which he passed on to
the camera.

The gates parted.  The driver whistled through his teeth and
drove forward.  "Some place they got here," he said.  "Never
knew this place even existed.  Sure is fancy."

Nick wished the man's information were a little more
detailed.  He reached out with his senses, but could learn
little.  The area was large with few buildings, as the night
sounds seemed unfettered.  There were mortal hearts, but he
couldn't tell how many.

Finally, the cab stopped.  The driver pulled his bags from
the trunk and set them on the ground.  Nick paid him, and
waited as the cab left.  Now, he was truly all alone.  Panic
overwhelmed him.  What if he got all turned around?  The
grounds were huge, he could walk around and around all night
long and never find shelter.  Why hadn't Vachon insisted on
coming?  Nick would have argued, but he would have caved in
in the end.  He didn't want to be here.

Suddenly, he couldn't keep it down another moment.  He
keeled over and  emptied his stomach.

Perry nuzzled him tenderly, and licked at his face.

"That's right," Nick said softly.  "I'm not really alone.
Will you get me to the front door?"

Perry barked once.  He guided his charge up the steps,
across the wide veranda and to the double doors of the
Victorian home.  Nick squared his shoulders and knocked.

The doors parted almost immediately.  Nick was irritated as
he imagined that whoever it was had seen him disgrace
himself.  "Good evening," the woman said pleasantly.  She
smelled nice, like powder and cookies.  Her heartbeat was
slow and slightly irregular than normal.  Nick decided she
must be on the down side of old.

"Good evening," Nick replied.  He extended his hand for her
to shake.  "I'm Nicholas Knight."

She held his hand in two of hers and patted it
comfortingly.  "Welcome, Nicholas Knight," she said.  Her
voice had a pleasant quaver.  Her hands felt gnarled and
cold.  "Just call me Aunt Mary.  I used to be the head
teacher here, but now I am retired.  My only official
position is to answer the door and help you get settled, but
if you need anything, or just want to talk, I have the only
bedroom on the ground floor and my door is always open."

"Thank you, Aunt Mary."

She looped her arm through his then, and talked while she
guided him.  "The main stairs are here in the front hall,
and it curves as it goes up," she said, accending the stairs
with him.  "There are eight bedrooms up here, this one is
yours.  The bathroom is at the other end of the hallway on
the left.  I'll let you get your things unpacked, then come
back downstairs and you can meet some of the staff."

Nick thanked her before she left.  Now he was really alone.
He took two steps before he bumped into the bed.  It was
tall and noisy, a narrow bed with a thick feather-stuffed
comforter and iron bedposts. He set the suitcases on it,
then moved to the walls to grope his way around for the
dresser.  He didn't have far to look.  The room seemed to be
very small.  It had a small window, but he was relieved to
touch the steel sheet that had been temporarily placed over
the glass.  LaCroix seemed to have thought of everything.

Beneath the window was a small refrigerator.  Nick unpacked
the bottles first, sipping from one while he put the rest
inside.  The familiar, ancient blood soothed as it coated
his throat and raw stomach.  "Thanks, LaCroix," he
whispered.

Perry leaped onto the bed, the springs complained noisily.
"Great," Nick thought.  He hoped he wouldn't have any
nightmares while he was here.  It didn't take long to put
his clothes away.  He stored the empty suitcases under the
bed.  "I guess it's time," he sighed.

Perry yawned.  He came to Nick's side and guided him down
the stairs.

Nick felt the banister.  It was smooth and polished, the
wood felt worn but well cared for.  This place was nothing
like he had imagined.  Instead of modern bricks and tile, it
was antique wood and polished brass.  It couldn't be a very
large facility.  Nick wondered how many other students were
here.  He turned in the direction of the sound of
approaching footsteps.

"Hello," said a much younger voice.  "My name is Colette,
and I will be your instructor."

Nick shook her hand as well.  It was small and warm, with
long nails, several rings and a bracelet.  He introduced
himself again, although she must have known who he was.

"You are a most unusual student," she said.  "For one, none
of our others have a guide dog.  And they all have their
lessons in the day.  Which is just as well.  I will be able
to give you one on one instruction.  We'll see how much we
can cram into the six weeks."

"Sounds like fun."

Colette gave him a brief tour of the home.  It wasn't enough
for him to become familiar with anything, but just enough
that he could explore it on his own later, which was
probably her intention all along.  There was a parlor, a
sitting room, a library, Marie's bedroom, a dining room and
a kitchen.

"The attic was remodeled last year, thanks to a very
generous grant," Colette explained.  "We fixed the roof and
insulated it, and turned it into a more modern recreation
room.  Couches, stereo, cards, games, the usual stuff.  The
children love it.  They are all in bed now, but maybe you
can meet them tomorrow."

Nick felt a presence.  He stopped abruptly, missing whatever
Colette was telling him, as he reached out with his senses.
It felt like a vampire!  But, why would there be one here?
Was one of the teachers from the night shift?  But Colette
was mortal.  It didn't make sense.  Nick was certain that he
was the only blind vampire on the planet.  Then, the
presence was simply gone.  Perhaps he had only imagined it.

"Nick?" Colette asked.  "Is something the matter?"

"No," he replied.  "I'm sorry.  You were saying?"

She brought him in to the library then.  He sat at a table
and she placed a book of Braille in his hands.  "This is
basic," she said.  "This is the most important thing you can
learn here.  A blind man who doesn't read Braille is as
handicapped as an illiterate sighted man."

Nick didn't answer.  Larry Merlin had told him basically the
same thing a few weeks ago.  Nick had only procrastinated
this long because he had expected his eyesight to return.
He was attentive then, pushing all the regrets away as he
studied the alphabet.

Colette seemed pleased at his progress.  Nick thought it was
painfully slow.  He could learn Chinese in minutes simply by
consuming Chinese blood, but memorizing the letters the
raised abstract bumps on paper symbolized was agonizing.

Finally, she closed the book.  "That was very good," she
praised him.  "Now, I have a gift for you."

She placed a wristwatch in his hands.  "The crystal raises
like this, and the numbers are in Braille.  What time is
it?"

Nick felt the tiny, sturdy hands and the numbers they
pointed to.  "Four o'clock," he said, surprised.  They had
been studying for hours.

"Very good.  My shift is over.  We'll work from ten until
four.  Then the rest of the night is yours.  You may explore
the entire building, but perhaps you should wait to go
outside until someone can show you around tomorrow, okay?"

Nick nodded.  "That's fine.  I'll probably retire early
anyway."

"Oh, and I work six days, then I have two days off.  Weird
schedule, I know, but my husband works on the police force,
so I was lucky to be able to pick hours that coincide with
his."

"A cop, huh?  So am I."

"Yes, I read that in your file.  Challenging.  Are you sure
you want to return to that work?  Isn't there something else
you'd like to do now?"

Nick gritted his teeth.  It was the same old argument he'd
heard from LaCroix and Nat and Reese.  Sure, his eyes would
be handy, but not necessary.  His partner could see.  He had
other senses, and they had been growing stronger.  He used
his vampire skills to solve most of his crimes anyway.  "I'm
a detective, Colette.  I can do this."

"Good.  Glad to hear the conviction in your tone of voice.
Then I will do all I can to help you learn new skills so you
can get back to work."  She shook his hand.  "See you
tomorrow."

Nick opened the book again to review what he had learned.
It was too early to go to bed, and he didn't feel up to
exploring tonight.  Then he felt it again.  The hair on his
neck tingled.  "Hello?" he called.

No one answered.  He listened intently, but he could not
hear a heart beat, not even the slow, almost nonexistent
beat of a vampire.  Was he as jumpy as a kid in a
thunderstorm?  Nick laughed at himself.  Perry hadn't sensed
anything.  "Come on, boy.  Let's go to bed."


The home seemed strangely empty as Nick retraced his path to
find the stairs.  No one else was awake.  He passed by his
door, walking the length of the hallway.  He touched each
door and reached out with his senses.  Two children slept in
the room closest to his.  Judging by their heart rate and
pulse, he guessed they'd be around ten or twelve, just
before puberty when their bodies would sound more like an
adult's.  The next door held two children, and the next.
The last door belonged to a man and woman, perhaps a married
couple, the resident managers for the school.  Nick realized
then that he was the only adult student.  Something seemed
very odd about that.  What kind of school had he come to?
He had a lot of questions; perhaps he could speak with the
couple tomorrow before they retired.  Yawning, Nick decided
that perhaps it was time to sleep after all.

There was no lock on his door, though, which unnerved him.
The children would be at risk if they inadvertently opened
the wrong door.  He lifted the dresser and placed it in
front of the door.  It would have to do.  He had to shove
Perry over repeatedly before he could find enough room to
stretch out his feet.  He usually shared a much larger bed;
these six weeks could prove rather confining.  Perry licked
his face and stretched out beside him, sharing the pillow.

Nick sensed contentment from the carouche.  "Yes," Nick
agreed.  "It does seem like a nice place.  What about
Colette?  Was she pretty?"

Perry woofed softly.

Nick chuckled.  "I know she's married."

Pretty is as pretty does, the carouche responded.

"Hm.  Thanks.  'night, Perry."

Chapter eight:

Amaru recalled the memories he had taken from the revenant's
blood last week.  Amaru had discovered he was following
Janette, although he had been unable to discover why. The
man had been a minor acquaintance of Janette's, a neighbor
in their apartment building in Buffalo, New York.  The man
remembered walking along the lake one night; he remembered
the fear of the dark stranger who approached him.  But he
did not remember what the stranger looked like.  Then, the
man ceased to exist.  His will had been drained away with a
good part of his blood.  He was dead, his spirit sent on to
the next life and only his body kept alive by the vampire's
blood and the vampire's command.

The strange vampire was also partly manifest in the man's
blood.  Amaru had sensed very little, only that he was old,
powerful, curious, and an Enforcer.  Following his trail
would be not only challenging, but dangerous. Enforcers were
the most powerful of the vampires, regardless of age or
lineage.  Amaru had had little to do with them in the past,
but he knew all vampires feared them.

Why had an Enforcer wanted someone to follow Janette?  What
was he searching for?  Was she still in danger, under
suspicion for some infraction of the code?  If they wanted
her dead, she would be already, for not even LaCroix could
protect her from vampire justice.  That she was still among
the undead was encouraging.  Perhaps she really wasn't the
target at all, but someone associated with her.

Amaru himself?

The Inca stopped in his tracks.  Could he have unwittingly
offended some ancient, broken another obscure law and
thereby placed Janette under suspicion as well?  Dread
washed over him.  He sank into the sofa of their apartment,
where he had come to pick up the trail.

'Review the facts,' he told himself.  'An Enforcer sent a
revenant to follow Janette.  The revenant had not harmed
her, but only followed her.  I killed the revenant.  That
was bound to offend someone, but it could not have been the
original cause of the problem...  No,' he decided.  He was
not the target.

If it were LaCroix, then perhaps Janette was in more danger
now than before.  Perhaps he should return to her?  No, not
yet.  He could not let fear and indecision govern his
actions.  He would return if he sensed she were afraid, but
until then he must try to track down the Enforcer and
confront him, politely if possible.

Could Nicholas be the target?  Few knew that he was actually
Janette's master now, but that he had been her vampire
brother and lover was indisputable.  And Nicholas was often
under suspicion.  He had outwardly rejected the vampire
culture for over a century.  He defied his own master with
regularity.  He befriended mortals.  And now, he was also
blind.  Any vampire with a grudge against him would use the
blindness as an excuse to justify harming him.

That was it!  Amaru leaped from the couch, pleased that he
had figured out the first piece in the puzzle.  He went to
the refrigerator, but the bottles stored there were old and
unappetizing.  He took a packet from the freezer and set it
in the microwave to defrost.  His fangs itched while the
blood warmed.

So what should he do now?  Should he inform Nicholas of the
danger, get himself involved and maybe killed?  Amaru was
not afraid for himself.  He had been given a holy order to
stop senseless killing, but not to stop killing entirely.
Were the Enforcers justified in killing Nicholas?

The golden vampire was guilty of letting the mortal coroner
know about vampires.  That had happened six years ago, and
so, if the Enforcers were still upset about that, then they
were certainly taking their time to punish him.  The usual
punishment for such carelessness was death.  Always the
mortal was killed, sometimes the mortal's friends and family
were also killed, just to make certain that the issue was
closed, and often the careless vampire was beheaded.

Not always, though.  If the vampire was contrite before the
Enforcers, and even helpful, then they might be satisfied
with mere torture.  Amaru thought back to his first
encounter with the Enforcers...

Knowledge of vampires had been common among his people.  The
princes of the night were honored and revered.  Amaru had
been humbled to be chosen for the dark gift.  After Vachon
had stabbed him and left him buried in the shallow grave, he
had risen with the first hunger and drained the first mortal
to cross his path, his own blood brother.

He could still see the look in his brother's eyes.  First
there had been alarm, that he had been captured and subdued
so easily when he had always been praised for his skills.
Next had been regret that he was going to die, and finally,
joy.  He had smiled at Amaru as the life flowed out of him,
honored that he could serve his own brother with such a holy
gift.

Amaru had buried him, weeping tears of blood.  He hadn't
felt very holy then, he'd felt like a killer.  It was the
first time he had ever killed indiscriminately, and it had
been the last.  As a man, he had killed only for food, or to
protect his people from their enemies.  As a vampire, he had
only killed those who deserved to die.  But his brother had
died that he might live.  That was a debt he could never
repay, he could only live rightly and pray that his life
brought honor to his brother's memory.

Then he returned to his people.  They had held a feast to
celebrate his transformation.  They took turns dancing
before him, slitting their wrists to let the precious fluid
flow into the earthen bowl, to mix together, until all had
offered a piece of their soul.  Then Amaru drained the
contents of the bowl, drawing the soul-bits into himself,
and pledging to protect them.  For two years he remained in
their midst.  Then, the Enforcers came.

They were from across the sea.  They were hideous and
vengeful, demanding obedience to a code he knew nothing
about, and speaking only in a language he did not
understand. They had nearly drained him and broke all his
bones, leaving him crippled and powerless.  He watched them
destroy his village. After three days, they fed him from
their own blood.  Healing came at once, along with knowledge
of their ways, their language, and their code.  They offered
to let him join them in their quest to unite other New World
vampires, but he had refused.  Silently, he buried his
people, the last of his family.  Then, he turned his rage
away from the Enforcers towards his true enemy, the one who
was indirectly responsible for all his pain, the Spaniard,
Vachon!  Five hundred years of pursuing him, all to ease the
pain of his loss.

Amaru shook his head, surprised at the blood tears he still
shed for his family.  "Forgive me, Javier," he whispered.
"For it is they I hate and not you."

He would pay a visit to Nicholas, to judge for himself if
the blind vampire deserved to die.  Then, perhaps he would
find his twin.

*****

Urs wound the cord around her arm then slipped it over the
handle of the vacuum cleaner.  The apartment was nearly
finished.  Two males lived here with more money than sense,
their slovenliness made Vachon's church sparkle by
comparison.  At least they had their own washer and dryer.
She opened the dryer door and started to hang their shirts
before wrinkles could set in.

They were her newest customers.  Now she had six homes to
take care of.  She could do two a night, which left her four
nights a week to feel sorry for herself.  Not very good, she
mused.  Toronto was lonely with Nick away.  Tracy, LaCroix,
and Vachon had all left, too.  Natalie would be gone by
morning.  That left only a few acquaintances in the Raven,
and Nick's immortal beloved.

Janette hadn't started picking on her yet, as the mortal
coroner had been around.  Urs suspected that with Nat away,
her time would come.  It didn't really bother her.  Janette
was weaker than she was, but Janette had a certain
sophistication that had always intimidated dirt-poor
dancehall girl from San Francisco.

Urs smiled shyly.  Janette was only being hateful because
she loved Nicholas and she was afraid of losing him.  She
had loved him for centuries, Urs had only known him for two
years.  Now, though, Janette was also his child.  It was
instinct that she should crave him, even if she despised
him.  An infant always wanted it's master.  Was Nick really
such a brick that he didn't realize that?  Or was he getting
even with Janette for hurting him in the past?

The laundry was done.  Urs glanced around a final time to
see if she had overlooked anything.  The small desk beside
the telephone was cluttered.  It was probably not her job to
file the papers, but she could at least stack them up more
tidily.  She took a dusting cloth and wiped the desktop,
then sorted the papers.

A pair of plane ticket stubs fell to the floor.  She picked
them up and added them to the pile, clucking to herself that
they hadn't just thrown the stubs away.  Curious, she
glanced at the tickets, even while her conscience warned her
it was none of her business.

Greece?  They had flown here from Greece?  That was
different.  But then, it really was none of her business.
She gathered up her cleaning supplies and started to leave.

The window opened and her two customers flew inside.  "Good
evening, Urs," the one said smoothly.  "You're a miracle
worker.  The place looks great."

She blushed under the praise.  "Thank you," she stammered,
and braved a glance at him.  Her mouth dropped and she
blurted out, "That's Nick's shirt!"

Tristan smiled.  "Yes, it is.  I'm sorry.  I shall leave it
here, and you may collect it next week, if that is
satisfactory.  Mine was torn, and a mortal loaned this to
me."

Urs nodded politely, trying to keep her irritation with
Natalie private from her customers.  "Of course.  Good
evening, then, Tristan."

The younger vampire whistled at her as she left.  She
ignored him.  She had told Joe rather firmly last week that
she was not interested.  She flew to the church where she
kept her business supplies, then picked up a pieced quilt
she was working on.  She would not return to the Raven until
Nick returned.  She didn't really want Nat or Janette's
company right now.

****

Janette glanced at the crowded nightclub.  She could not
believe that she had lived and worked there for twenty
years!  Tonight she found it boring.  She did not want to be
here.

Patrick had been somewhat amusing, but he was exactly what
he seemed, nothing hidden and no surprises.  His blood had
satisfied her bloodlust, but not her need for passion.  Alma
could have him.

Caspian put a beefy arm around her shoulder.  "Hello, little
one.  Why so somber tonight?"

"I am not a little one," she snapped, shirking off his arm.

Caspian laughed good-naturedly.  "Have you met Trevor?  I
adopted him six months ago, at LaCroix's urging, in fact.
He has been my delight.  Trevor," he called, waving to a
young vampire across the bar.
"Come and meet Janette, LaCroix's daughter, and sister to
Nicholas."

The young vampire nearly flew through the crowds at his
master's bidding.  The look on his face when he gazed at
Caspian was pure devotion.  Janette's brow puckered.  She
had met Caspian a few times, and found him boorish and
clumsy.  Perhaps there was more to him than she realized?

"Yes, master," Trevor asked eagerly.

Caspian introduced him.  "Perhaps you two young people would
like to dance?"

"Can you dance?" Janette asked disdainfully.

Trevor's answer was to pull her into his embrace and spin
her out onto the dance floor.  He lacked Nick's grace, but
he made up for it in enthusiasm.  Maybe she wouldn't be
bored after all.

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja


Chapter Nine:

"You let her go!" Joe shouted.  "What the hell was this
whole trip for!"

"My assignment was only to gather information and report
back to the council, Joe.  I told you that before."

"She knows about us.  You proved that beyond all doubt.  She
must die."

Tristan ignored the younger vampire.  He was tired from the
evening's ordeal, although all the self-inflicted wounds had
healed completely.  He was sorry the council had sent Joe
along.  Tristan preferred to work alone.  Joe was too
emotional, too wrapped up in this assignment.  He must have
some hidden agenda.

Joe was new.  He was a little young for full time service,
but the enforcers had agreed to use him as an assistant, and
in time, if he proved useful, then they would initiate him
into the force.  Tristan had served them for two centuries
as an assistant before his own initiation back during the
war with the Colonies.  He could not remember being as eager
and impatient as young Joe was now.

"She is LaCroix's.  He has promised to take care of it.
Although it is irregular to put off her conversion like
this, I'm sure the council will grant the ancient some
leeway.  He has never failed to keep the code in the past."

"But her knowledge of vampires is only part of the problem.
Rumors have it that she is actually trying to find a "cure",
to turn a vampire back into a mortal.  That she was
responsible for creating the Fever in the first place, that
it was one of her failed experiments!"

Tristan shivered.  He had been in Greece during the Fever,
which had never spread beyond the Toronto area, and yet news
of the threat had reached him even before the cure had been
discovered.  The Fever had shook the entire community to the
core like nothing else had ever done before.  Not even the
vampire hunts of the fourteenth century had been as
frightening.

"Where did you hear this from?" he asked, schooling
indifference into his voice, when he wanted to shake Joe
senseless.

"Around," Joe said vaguely.  "In the Raven.  Although she
lives there with LaCroix, there are those who don't trust
her."

Tristan turned to stare out the window.  Natalie had not
been completely honest with him.  He had sensed that she was
hiding something.  He had allowed his inexplicable
infatuation with the mortal woman and his fear of offending
the ancient LaCroix to interfere with his duty.  "She is
leaving town tonight," he began.

"Then we've got to hurry, before it's too late!"

"Down, boy.  I agree that we should learn more from her
before returning to the council, but that is all.  She is
not to be harmed."

Joe opened his mouth to argue, but Tristan silenced him with
a gesture, allowing his age and the power of the Enforcer
that lived in his blood to overwhelm the younger vampire.
Joe closed his mouth and nodded reluctantly.

"So, she said something about taking a plane, and then a
cruise.  I shouldn't go back to the morgue, I bear a strong
similarity to a missing corpse."  Tristan gave a mischievous
smile.  "You go and see if she left any pamphlets about this
cruise around her office, and I'll head to the Raven."

*****

Toronto sank beneath the wing, the lights of the city
diminishing until they were completely obliterated by low
clouds.  Natalie wiped a stray tear.  Airplanes were such
lonely things.  The roar of the engines, the thrum of plane
as it vibrated all around her did not fill her with
excitement, as it did the little boy across the aisle.
Planes made her sad, for although they took her someplace
new, that always meant leaving something behind.

She was not sad at leaving Toronto.  It was just a city.  A
lovely place that she had been happy to call home for many
years, but her tears were not for it.  She wept for
Nicholas, that he still suffered.  He was still a vampire,
only now he was weak and blind.  She couldn't search for a
cure for him any longer.  He had chosen to end that quest,
whether voluntarily or at LaCroix's insistence, she didn't
know.  She wept for the lost dreams of one day marrying a
mortal Nick, and having two mortal children, and a lovely
little home in the suburbs, and maybe even a day job.

Natalie wept for herself.  Nick no longer set her heart to
racing, no longer made her weak-kneed and giddy with
desire.  Only her memory of the Nick she'd fallen in love
with could still stir her soul.  Now her fickle heart
desired LaCroix, Nick's overbearing, egotistical,
domineering abusive master!  If she believed in a superior
being, she would think that this was all some cosmic joke
and she the fool.

She loved LaCroix, but did she like him? Could she imagine
living with him even a decade, let alone eternity?
Sometimes just staying with him one more hour was almost
more than she could bear.  Then, he would gaze at her with
those penetrating eyes of ice blue; he would whisper words
into her ear, and she knew she would not want to go on
alone.

Natalie reached into her purse for a handkerchief and wiped
her eyes.  Then she pulled out a compact and powdered her
nose, covering the last of her melancholy with the façade of
a happy woman on holiday.  She was not going to think about
vampires on this trip, not even once!  The steamy romance
novel she'd bought online was just the thing to take her
mind off her worries.  She flicked on the light above her
seat and turned to the first page....



The airline attendant announced it was time to fasten
seatbelts as the plane prepared for landing.  Natalie was
startled that the time had passed so quickly.  Her panties
were damp and her face flushed as the heroine's romance was
graphically described on the printed page.  She was almost
embarrassed to be seen carrying such a book!  And she
couldn't wait to get inside her stateroom on the boat to
finish it!

Tucking the book inside her purse, she gathered her carry-on
bag and followed the other passengers from the plane.  She
had just over an hour to collect her suitcase from baggage
claim and hail a cab.  It was cutting it close, but not too
close.  And it was just her luck that a cab was waiting for
her, whisking her bags from her, and helping her so swiftly,
it was almost as though the driver feared the rising sun.
Nat's stomach lurched as she stared at him.  Was she seeing
vampires everywhere now?

"Driver, stop," she said.  "I think I forgot something.  I
want to go back inside and check."  She hoped her voice
didn't give away her fear.

The driver ignored her.  He hit the doorlocks and squealed
tires as he pulled away from the curb.

"Stop!" Nat shouted.  She pounded on the window glass
frantically.  This had been too long a night!  First the
vampire corpse in her morgue just hours ago, and now this
cab driver from the twilight zone!  Then she reached over
the seat and wrapped her hands around the driver's throat,
tightening her grip and screaming in his sensitive ears,
noting with the small part of her brain that was still sane
that his skin was cold to touch.

The driver struck her forehead hard.  Her hands loosened as
she fell unconscious on the floor in the back of the car.

*****

LaCroix closed his eyes.  For a moment, he thought he sensed
Natalie's presence in his mind.  It was ridiculous, really.
She was a mortal, and too far away.  Normally, he could only
sense her right after making love, when she was in his arms
in his bed.  Even if her plane had landed, she'd be in Nova
Scotia, many miles north of here.  And the feelings he had
were of terror...

He opened himself to her, trying to sense her again.  There
it was.  He was able to sense her!  Only, instead of terror,
she seemed to be asleep.  A smile touched his lips.  He was
getting foolish these days.

"Senor LaCroix, es hora de dormir? Siento la salida del sol
el acercarse," Tracy said around a yawn.  (Senor LaCroix, is
it time to sleep?  I feel the sunrise approaching.)

Tracy was many things, he mused.  She was exciting and
passionate, loving and adorable, but she was not a scholar.
The Spanish lessons were painful.  He would share her bed,
and then he would sleep peacefully in his own room.  Five
days down; only thirty-seven more to go.

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja

Chapter ten:

Nick struggled through the first page of text.  Somehow
Colette had discovered that most of the books she'd had him
read were ones he had read before and therefore remembered.
He'd used his near perfect memory as a crutch to help him
decipher the new alphabet.  It had worked for days.
Tonight's book was a romance so new that it had not yet been
released.  No one had read it, save the editors and maybe
the author's agent.  Nick hadn't yet made it past the
author's name.

Colette sighed.  "When you cheat, Nick, you hurt no one but
yourself."

"This is so damned stupid," he growled.  "What do I care
what her name is!"

"You can do this.  You've learned the alphabet, you just
need to put the letters together.  Trust yourself.  Spell
her name again."

"K... k?"

"Try again. The second letter is not a k, although it has
the two left dots like a k.  Feel the space between the two
letters?"

"Z?"

"Don't ask me.  Tell me.  Is it a z?"

"Damn it, I am not six years old!" Nick shouted.

"Then don't act like it.  Now try again."

"K, z, o, l, o... d?  Um, z, i, n, s, k, i.  And don't ask
me to pronounce it, because I haven't a clue."

Colette laughed.  "I imagine even her college professors
stumbled over that name.  It is Kzolodzinski.  It's a Polish
name.  Anna Kzolodsinski is a new author of Romance novels.
You won't find that name on the paperback edition, though.
Her publisher has convinced her to write under the pseudonym
of "Angela Lovelace"."

"Thanks a lot.  Why'd you make me struggle through it,
then?"

"To practice the letter "z".  There might not be another one
in the book.  Now go on."

A knock sounded at the front door.  Nick closed the book and
grinned boyishly.  "Should I see who is there?  Aunt Marie's
gone to bed."

"I will get it," Colette said with exasperation.  "You keep
reading!"

Nick grumbled.  Reading this romance novel would not help
him be a better detective, but recognizing most words was
easier than names.  If he got a few of the letters right, he
could guess the rest of the word.  The beginning was even
sort of interesting.

He jumped when Colette came back into the room.  Someone
else was with her.  Nick had been concentrating so hard, he
hadn't felt their approach.

"Nick, this gentleman says he's here to see you," Colette
said.

Nick stood, reaching out with his senses to try to identify
the caller.  It was a vampire, but he couldn't tell whom.

"Greetings, Nicholas," Amaru said.

Nick gave a half smile, curious to know why the Inca was
here.  "Hello," he said, extending a hand.  Then he
introduced Amaru to his teacher.

"Amaru?  That's an interesting name," Colette said.  "But
I'm afraid you've come a little early.  Nick's lesson goes
for another hour.  You're welcome to wait."

"Thank you, I will," he said.

Nick heard him back out of the library and take a seat in
the parlor, but he knew it wasn't far enough away.  Amaru
would still hear his pathetic attempts.  He rubbed his face
in his hands, feeling embarrassment and frustration getting
the best of him.

"Is he a good friend of yours?" Colette asked.

Nick shrugged.  "Not really.  He's my best friend's twin
brother."

She nodded.  "Well, just a few more pages, then we both get
a break.  Have you made plans?"

"No.  What about you?"

"Oh, yes.  Jase and I have a date with a motel room.  I have
to get him out of town on our days off, or we don't get a
moment's peace."

He laughed.  "I know what you mean.  Before, when I was
still on the force, I often got called in even on my
vacation.  It got so bad, I just stopped applying for time
off."

"Well," she said, "you've worked hard.  You've learned a new
alphabet, and you've learned your way around this entire
estate.  You've met knew people, and even just getting here
was a major step for you.  You haven't been blind very
long.  You've really adjusted very well.  You should go out
and party."

"Feels like I've been blind forever," Nick said quietly.

She patted his shoulder.  Then, shaking the book before him,
commanded him to continue.

At the end of the hour, Colette took the book and closed
it.  "That's enough.  I'm out of here.  Hope you have a good
time, Nick."

Nick almost grabbed the book back from her.  The plot was
finally starting to get really interesting... for a silly
romance, that is.  The heroine seemed overly emotional to
him, angsting all the time about whether or not the hero
loved her, when, he obviously did.  He made love to her,
after all.  What more did she want?  He heard Amaru return,
though.  He touched the book cover.  Maybe he would finish
it before Colette returned, and then when she made him read,
it wouldn't sound so deplorable.

"Hello, Amaru.  I must admit I am surprised to see you.
What's up?"

"I believe you've come to know Vachon," he said, using the
cover story he'd been working on all the way here.  "What
sort of person is he?  I had always found him to be without
honor, but he seems to have changed."

Nick whistled to Perry.  "Perhaps we should visit outside.
The grounds here must be lovely.  I smell a profusion of
plants and flowers."

Amaru was speechless as the weight of Nick's disability
suddenly became real.  At the going-away party, Nick had
been surrounded by friends, in the safety of dance hall.  He
had danced gracefully all night long.  The fact of his
blindness had not seemed significant.  Now, to hear him
struggle just to read, to consider that everything Amaru had
seen - the once-elegant, somewhat shabby home, the gardens,
the stables, all he took for granted, was a challenge to the
elder vampire.

"It isn't so bad, really," Nick said softly.  "You get used
to it."

"What?" Amaru stuttered.  He knew he hadn't spoken his
thoughts aloud, and the blind vampire could not have read
the pity written on his face.

"I used to wake every evening expecting to be able to see,
that in my sleep my vampiric nature would have healed the
injury to my eyes.  I think I gave up that hope the day I
sent in my application to this school.  I am the only adult
student here, struggling with the most basic lessons the
children mastered years ago.  Embarrassment is a great
motivator."

For a few moments they walked in silence.  The moon was
full, casting the path of shredded tree mulch in soft
light.  The gardens were overgrown with sweet fern,
hollyhocks, hostas, and daisies.  Tree branches arched
above, partially blocking out the stars.  There were places
where the paths diverged, but Perry and Nick always took the
path to the right.  Amaru imagined the layout of the grounds
from having flown here.  Nick's chosen path would circle the
grounds, eventually leading them back to the home.

"So, what do you want to know?" Nick asked.

"Vachon has never cared a whit about anyone or anything
other than himself.  Has this changed?"  Although it was
Nick he was investigating, he could learn a lot about the
vampire by the way he talked about others.

"I met Vachon the same time I met you, just over two years
ago.  I didn't like him very much.  His carelessness had
placed my partner in danger and changed her life forever
with her knowledge of our kind.  I wanted to kill him."

"Why didn't you," Amaru prodded.  Nick would have been
justified.  Allowing Tracy and Vachon to live was one of the
gravest offences to the code.

"I don't know.  I told him it was because he hadn't killed
Tracy.  I told him I was making him responsible for her,
that his life depended on keeping her safe.  But the truth
is, I looked into those large, soft brown eyes, so like
Raleigh's, and I just couldn't do it."

That wasn't good, Amaru thought.  Nick was confessing to
weakness.  He knew the code, knew what must be done, and he
had been unable to carry through.  "Who is Raleigh?" he
asked, starting to turn the conversation more towards Nick.

The golden vampire chuckled.  "He was a rottweiler, a pet
dog I had a while ago."

Amaru laughed.  "I see the similarity, then!"

"I put him in charge of Tracy, and I kept an eye on him.  I
know that his infatuation with Tracy was a big motivator,
but he seemed to blossom under the responsibility.  So, have
you settled things between you?"

"Perhaps," Amaru answered vaguely.  Things between him and
Vachon were complicated.  Although he felt he had nothing in
common with the Spaniard, he had to acknowledge that he was
all the family he had left.  The vague sense of longing he
had lived with since his vampire birth, the desire he had
come to realize was the instinctual desire for his master,
was lessened when he was in Vachon's company.  He tasted the
familiar in Vachon's blood, he found himself and his mother
through the bloodkiss.

"What about his care of his fledglings," Amaru asked.  "He
has brought over others in the past and left them to
struggle on their own.  Do you not agree that the master has
a duty, and obligation to protect and teach his own
progeny?"

"That is an odd question for you to ask me," Nick said
lightly.  "You, who have no master, and I, who have defied
mine for centuries!"

"It took me a long time to admit that our mother was wrong.
She was beautiful, and I wanted to love her, to be just like
her.  But I have learned that the code does have certain
advantages.  Vampire infants, through their own ignorance,
are the greatest threat to our continued secrecy.  Someone
should be responsible for them."

Nick thought about his own creations.  There had been only a
few times when he had chosen to share the dark gift, and of
those, he had had to destroy most.  They had not made the
conversion well, killing indiscriminately.  But some of his
children still lived, one was even in Montreal.

Serena...

(Continued...)

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja

(Part ten, continued)

For a moment, anger colored his blood.  Once she had flirted
with him.  She had made advances, attempting to seduce him
although it was well known that she cared not for men at
all.  Finally, Nick realized that she wanted immortality,
not sex.  So he had brought her across. Only, the foolish
woman had wanted a baby.  It had been a cruel mistake, one
which he had regretted ever since.

But he had turned away from his responsibility.  He had
never trained her, protected her, or demanded anything of
her.  Perhaps, he had been wrong.

He had given her what LaCroix would never give him,
freedom.  Now, he knew that without LaCroix to watch over
him, he would be dead.  Although he still chafed at
LaCroix's power over him, he knew he liked feeling loved and
protected.  Perhaps, while he was in Montreal, it was time
to set things straight with Serena?  He would have to give
it more thought.

Amaru walked silently beside him, waiting for an answer.
But, Urs was not the fledgling he was concerned about.  Nick
sensed an ulterior  motive from the Inca.  He would continue
to be as honest as he could, but he wondered about the real
reason that brought him here.

"Yes, the master should be responsible for his progeny," he
said.

"For how long?"

Nick drew a deep breath.  "For as long as it takes," he
answered. "Perhaps, forever."

Amaru smiled.  Good.  Nicholas was not in defiance with the
code, so whatever was going on between him and Janette must
just be temporary.  Perhaps, he was avoiding her to teach
her a lesson?  She was rather disrespectful.

Nick stepped off the path onto the grass.  He unhooked
Perry's harness, petting the carouche's golden coat
affectionately.  "There, boy," he said.  "I'll see you back
at the house."

The dog barked once, glaring at the dark visitor.  He knew
Nick freed him so he might hunt alone and because Nick
wanted privacy, but he wasn't sure if he should trust the
younger vampire.

The Inca glared back at the golden eyes of the carouche,
allowing his fangs to erupt.  Nick patted the dog again.
"I'll be fine, Perry.  Go along."

The dog leaped into the air, already catching the scent of a
nice fat rabbit.

Nick loosened the top buttons on his shirt, baring his
throat and shoulders.  He held his arms open in invitation.

Amaru hesitated.  Sharing blood was almost sacred to him,
not a casual exchange, yet Nick's blood would tell him all
he needed to know.

Nick touched his arms, moving his hands up to the shoulders,
friendly yet not demanding.  Amaru sensed that a single word
or gesture would end it now.  He gazed at the blue eyes of
the elder vampire, so blue and so open, so full of emotions
too numerous to define.  Amaru sensed that the blood of this
one would be like none other he had ever tasted.  He stepped
closer, accepting the invitation.

Gently, Nick drew him in, touching the smooth throat of the
Inca with first his fingers and then his teeth.  He felt the
blood pound through the vein, felt the intake of breath as
the Inca's teeth lightly scraped his throat.  Nick struck
first.

Amaru shuddered as he felt his blood pour into the older
vampire.  He sensed Nick's essence, a potent wine and sweet
like honey, he sensed the hunger, as Nick gulped him
greedily, as though he had not fed well in many days.  Amaru
was almost hesitant to return the bite, but as he felt
weakness steal over him, he struck.

The essence he only sensed before became overpowering.
Amaru tightened his hold, crushing the older vampire to him
as he drank.  There was light in the blood!  It was as if he
drank the very sunshine itself!  His body convulsed as the
passion of the kiss crested.  Hesitantly then, and a little
embarrassed, Amaru withdrew his fangs.

Nick licked at the twin wounds and stepped back.  He smiled
shyly at the young Inca.  "So," he asked.  "Do I pass your
inspection?"

Amaru was startled.  That was twice that the elder vampire
had known his thoughts!  Had Nick offered his blood to him,
partly to assuage his fears?  He wondered at the hunger he
had sensed, though.  Nick was very strong and powerful, so
why did he not feed?

"Forgive me, lord," Amaru answered, giving the title of
respect due an elder.  "I see that your blindness does not
make you weak.  You are no threat to the community."

Nick laughed.  "You don't need to worry, Amaru.  I have been
under suspicion so often that I no longer get worried about
it.  Say 'hello' to your brother when you see him, and tell
him I have off tomorrow."

Amaru nodded, forgetting the gesture would be lost on the
other.   His voice was still thick with the emotions he had
gleaned through the bloodkiss.  "I will," he said.

Silently, Amaru escorted Nick back through the paths to the
home where he stayed.  Nick walked gracefully up the stairs
towards the door, where he turned and smiled once more.
"Thank you for coming," he said.  Then he disappeared
inside.

Amaru stared at the door for long moments.  Nick was such a
complex creature!  He hoped that one day he would be able to
be counted among Nick's friends.  Lifting into the sky, he
trained his senses on his lucky brother, who had already
been counted.

Vachon was on his boat in the harbor, not yet asleep but
preparing for bed.  Amaru hesitated to enter.  Dawn was
approaching; it would force them to share the day, and yet
he had so many questions.

"You are welcome, my brother," Vachon's thoughts said in his
mind.  Amaru smiled, lighting on the deck of the small
yacht.

The familiar face peered up at him from the stairs below.
Amaru saw him as Nick had, the similarity in the soft,
beguiling eyes to that of a beloved pet, and he almost
laughed.

His feet had barely touched the lower deck before Vachon
threw him up against a wall, his fingers clenched around his
throat.  Amaru's eyes flared golden at his brother's
deception.

"What did you do to Nick!" Vachon demanded.  The scent of
Nick's blood still clung to his brother.

Amaru shoved him away and rubbed at his own throat, but he
did not launch a counterattack.  Vachon's protective streak
amused him.  "I didn't "do" anything to him.  He offered me
his blood freely."

"And you took it?  Did you hurt him?  He isn't like us
anymore.  You shouldn't have done it."

Amaru casually took a seat at the table.  He did not want to
fight with Vachon.  It was time they learned to talk, at
least like civilized beings, even if they could never become
the brothers he yearned for.  He waited while Vachon poured
them each a drink and sat down at the table as well before
he spoke.

"Nick is fine.  He is doing well at the school and he asked
me to tell you that he has off tomorrow."

Vachon felt his blood warm, his teeth tingle, as he
anticipated Nick's company.  He wondered if his anger with
Amaru was purely protectiveness, or was it mixed with
jealousy?  If he shared with Amaru soon, he would taste Nick
in his blood.

"Nick seemed hungry, though.  Doesn't he have supplies
delivered there at the school?"

Vachon sighed.  "Yes.  He is always hungry now.  It is part
of the illness, the reason why he does not heal.  He cannot
keep food down.  Only vampire blood, and then, only some of
the time."

Amaru was speechless.  "How, how long?" he stammered.

"Six months."

Here he had thought the elder vampire was weak, and yet, he
controlled the hunger while living among children, the most
tantalizing blood of all.  Nick was not weak, but incredibly
strong.  Amaru felt humbled.

"He may be under suspicion from Enforcers," he said.

"Do you work for them now!" Vachon accused.

"No.  I came here on my own.  Some one was after Janette,
but I believe they were really gathering information on
Nick, not her.  I came to see for myself if the suspicions
are justified."

"And?"  Vachon wondered how he could even be related with
that creature opposite him.

"I find him to be honorable, courageous and aware of his
duty.  Should I tell him about the Enforcers?"

Vachon leaned back and stared at his twin.  Amaru did not
pose a threat to Nick, in fact, he seemed willing to
interfere on his behalf.  Perhaps, he had judged him too
harshly.  "No.  Nick has enough on his mind right now.  And
worry only makes his illness worse.  It is enough that I
know. I will try to keep watch over him.  Perhaps, though,
you should tell LaCroix?"

Amaru hesitated.  LaCroix still believed the deception he
had given Janette, that LaCroix was the one under
investigation.  He knew that the ancient would not be
pleased to learn the truth, and he was sure he did not want
to be anywhere near an angry LaCroix.

"Believe me," Vachon said softly.  "It is better to face him
yourself, rather than have him come after you."

"I will.  But first I must speak with the mortal, Natalie."
She was in Nick's blood.  He was afraid for her, that
because of him, she was marked.  Amaru knew that it was only
Nick's perceptions of the truth, and not necessarily the
truth.  Still, if Nick was under investigation, then Natalie
should be made aware.

Vachon put their glasses in the sink.  He held out a hand in
invitation.  Amaru was surprised when he accepted.  Seldom
did he find release with others of their kind, and then,
mostly only women.  Now, to share twice in the same night?
Yet he felt a strong yearning, a loneliness that he knew
only Vachon could soothe.  He laid aside the centuries of
anger and hatred, opening himself to the possibility that
they could be more than brothers.  Through the blood, they
found the grounds for reconciliation and forgiveness, and
through the other, they found themselves.

Chapter Eleven:

Amaru left at nightfall the following day.  Vachon wanted to
ask him to stay.  He had only just discovered his brother
still lived last week, and for the first time in their
existence, he sensed if not friendship, then at least
acceptance in his brother's blood.  But Amaru was driven by
duty.  He would depart tonight for the Enforcers, who were
meeting in Greece these days.

He showered and dressed carefully, eager to see Nick.  He
had stayed away all week, as it was Nick's wishes to be left
alone, but he had worried about him constantly.  Although
LaCroix had bottled his own ancient blood, was it enough?
Nick had lived among mortals for centuries, but would he
keep the vampire's eyes carefully concealed?

Finally, he flew out over the city, landing on the steps of
the school for the blind twenty minutes later.  He took the
brass handle in his hand and knocked.

A pleasant-looking older woman smiled, her face alight with
laugh lines and crinkles.  "Good evening, young man," she
said.

"I'm here to see Nick," he said.

She stepped back and gestured for him to come in.  "He is in
the parlor with the children."

Vachon followed her through the small, tidy rooms crowded
with antique furniture, and wondered how a batch of blind
kids could learn their way around without breaking
something.  In the parlor was a spinet, and Nick sat on the
bench.  One child sat beside him, two more hovered near, and
six others sat on the floor or furniture.  Nick was playing
a children's song, and they were all singing the refrain.

"Oh, they're always in the way,
The cow eats them for hay.
Mother eats them in her sleep,
She thinks she's eating shredded wheat,
They're always in the way!

It wasn't until they came to the next verse that Vachon
discovered the song was about "Dear Old Daddy's Whiskers".
He smirked, as Nick's dad would never grow a beard.

"Come now, children," a younger woman called when the song
had ended.  "It is bedtime."

They made the typical childish response, a long pathetic
groan, and she made the typical adult response of ignoring
it completely.  Nick rose, and turned to him then.
"Vachon!  It's good to see you.  These are my "classmates".
Kids, say hello to Vachon, and then you'd better do as she
says."

"Hello, Vachon," came nine mournful voices.  "Good night,
Nick!  See you tomorrow!"

The blind children ranged in ages from about four to
fifteen.  Several had other disabilities as well, leg
braces, hearing aids, or poor coordination indicating a
nervous disorder.  Vachon felt for his friend, being the odd
fish in the pond.  But then, Nick was probably used to it by
now.

Perry jumped to Nick's side as the vampire rose.  Together
they left the home, emerging into the night, then together
they lifted into the air.  Nick never flew alone.  Although
Perry could probably protect him from the eyes of mortals,
he was hesitant to try.  Even flying with one hand on
Vachon's arm, and the other firmly clutching Perry's harness
was a frightening experience.  Rushing blindly, more aware
of the air currents, or the creatures who shared the sky,
and terrified of getting lost, it was exhilarating even as
it left him feeling emotionally drained.

"So, where to?" Vachon asked.  "Do you want to check out the
coffee house?"

"Maybe later.  Would you take me to this address," Nick
asked, giving Vachon the street name of his own apartment.

Vachon shrugged.  He had looked forward all week to spending
time with Nick alone, and now the other wanted to visit
friends of his?  It didn't matter.  He knew that some time
before dawn Nick would need his blood.  It comforted him,
even though he knew how it must make Nick feel to be so
dependent on others.  He knew how it would bug him.

The apartment was in an upscale neighborhood, the penthouse
suite.  Vachon wasn't sure if the friend was vampire or
mortal, so he landed on the street and they walked the rest
of the way.

The doorman stared at Vachon disdainfully, but he said
nothing. Vachon glanced at himself.  The shirt was clean,
and so was his hair.  What bee did he have up his butt?

Nick felt the elevator buttons, drawing Vachon's attention
to the Braille numbers beside the standard ones.  Then he
pressed the correct one, and the elevator doors closed.
Nick seemed to shudder as the small, confined area slowly
lifted.  Vachon might not have noticed if he hadn't been so
closely attuned to Nick, but something about the elevator
definitely bothered him.  He didn't have time to think about
it, as the doors parted and they stepped out into an elegant
foyer.

Nick went to the only door and knocked. The door opened, and
a pretty young vampire greeted them.  She was slender, with
brown, shoulder-length hair and a fresh face devoid of
make-up.  Her eyes widened, first in anger then reticent
invitation.  "Hello, Nick," she said.

"Robin.  I wasn't sure if you were ready to see me."

"That makes two of us."

Vachon felt the undercurrents as strongly as an ocean tide.
The woman did not seem familiar.  She was not related, and
she was very, very young.  What had happened between them?

"Come in, since you're here."

"This is Vachon," Nick said, "And my carouche, Perry."

Robin was about to make some snide remark about the company
Nick kept, when she noticed the strange harness on the
carouche, and the way Nick hesitantly entered his own
apartment.  He seemed afraid, or unsure.  She saw the one he
called Vachon guide him to the couch, and only then did Nick
sit down.

"Ohmygosh, Nick, what happened?" she blurted.

Vachon glared at her.  She had no manners.

Nick shrugged indifferently.  "It's a long story, Robin.  I
am in Montreal only for a few weeks, and I wanted to see how
you are doing."

Robin fidgeted.  She wasn't really angry with him anymore.
He had explained to her that he had been possessed by a
demon, that he hadn't meant to nearly rip her head from her
shoulders with his bare hands... She had taken his blood
then, and read the bizarre truth.  Then he had given her the
use of this perfect, penthouse apartment, and promised that
he would find her a new home.  He looked so young and
vulnerable now.  She discovered that she was ready to
forgive him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she offered.

"Thanks," Nick said.

She returned quickly with a full bottle and three glasses.
"Um, I'm sorry," she stammered.  "Does your carouche need
anything?"

Nick reached down to pat Perry's head.  The dog gazed up at
him, licking his arm.  "No.  He's fine for now.  But thanks
for asking," Nick said.

Vachon accepted the glass and settled back to observe.
Eventually he would learn the answers.  For now he would
simply enjoy the play of emotions on Nick's face, and the
pretty infant before him.

"Have you made friends here," Nick asked.

Robin smiled.  "Some.  I feel the old ones regard me with
disdain, like I'm some insect they would just as soon
crush.  But there are a few other orphans like me, and we
kind of hang out together."

"And the apartment?  Is it okay?"

Robin looked at Vachon, her eyes wide in amusement.  His
sighted companion could see how gorgeous the place was!
"Yes, Nick," she said, trying to sound serious.  "The place
is okay.  Really, it's more than okay.  How long has it been
since you were here?"

"I bought it when the building was just going up," he said.
"I lived here only a few years.  When I decided to return to
police work, I couldn't very well explain a penthouse."

They relaxed then, engaging in smalltalk, until Nick rose to
take his leave.  "I know someone, a woman, who would be good
for you," Nick said softly.  "You need someone to older to
see to your training and safety.  And she would benefit by
having someone else besides herself to worry about.  May I
introduce you to her next week?"

Robin hesitated.  She had met many in the community... were
any of them people she would want to be tied to?  "I don't
know, Nick," she said.

"The final decision is yours.  I will just introduce you.
If you two don't hit it off, you don't have to accept her."

"Okay," Robin agreed.  "I'll meet her."

Nick extended his hand, but Robin surprised him by stepping
in for a hug.  "Thanks for coming," she said.

"Mind telling me what that was all about," Vachon asked as
the door closed behind them.

Nick grabbed his arm, his eyes golden and the outline of
fangs visible.  "Outside!  Get me out, now!" Nick whispered.

Vachon felt Nick's torment wash over him with tidal force.
He glanced around, saw the skylight and lifted Nick through
it.  The elder vampire crumpled to his knees and heaved.
Vachon stared, just now aware how much stress Nick had been
concealing.  He knelt beside him, holding his shoulders as
the spasms shook him violently.

"Come back to the boat," Vachon said soothingly.  "Spend the
day with me."

Nick nodded weakly.  Vachon pulled Nick's arm over his
shoulder, supporting him more than guiding him, as they flew
out over the harbor.  Nick fell asleep in his arms before
they landed.  He carried him below and laid him on the bed.
"So, Perry," he said, speaking to the dog the way Nick often
did.  "School must be pretty rough."

"Woof," Perry agreed.

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja


Twelve:

"Joe, you imbecile!  I warned you!  She was not to be
harmed!"

Joe lifted his chin and glared reproachfully at the elder
vampire.  "She'll be all right.  I didn't break anything."

"It is not normal for them to be unconscious this long.  I'm
taking her to a hospital tonight."

"That's risky," Joe objected.  "Too many questions asked...
let's just drain her and be done with it."

Tristan lifted Joe by the throat and tossed him into the
cement wall.  "No!  You would not live another day if you
harmed one of LaCroix's possessions."

Joe hated Tristan.  The skinny Enforcer was a disgrace to
the organization.  He was a weakling, afraid of wielding the
incredible power he had been given.  Joe would not make the
same mistake.  This mission was a two-edged sword.  He hoped
to strike revenge at LaCroix for humiliating him, and tear
Tristan down, so he could step in and fill his position.

Joe still burned every time he thought about LaCroix.  He
had only made some careless comment when he saw Nick
stumbling around.  How was he to know the vampire was
blind?  Who ever heard of such a ridiculous aberration?  But
LaCroix had nearly killed him.  He'd forced Joe to apologize
and then he had banished him, not just from the Raven and
the lucrative remodeling job, but from all of Toronto.  Joe
had gone immediately to the Enforcers.  Nick was a freak.
LaCroix would suffer for his humiliation.

They flew Natalie to a vacant lot and left her.  Tristan
placed her purse nearby, removing her wallet and any
identification.  It would look like a simple mugging.  Then,
he dialed the emergency number to report the body and flew
to a rooftop to watch.

Shortly, an ambulance arrived. She was quickly connected to
IVs and a heart monitor, then loaded onto a stretcher and
carried away.  The vampires followed.  He would have to keep
an eye on her, to see what if anything she remembered of her
abduction.  Only when she was healed could she be
interrogated. To press her for information too soon might
cause permanent brain damage.  Tristan fumed at the delay
Joe had caused.  He would make a full report, recommending
Joe be fired immediately.

"I'm going," Joe stated through clenched teeth.  "I know
where I can find willing vampires to help me bring justice,
since you are too feeble-minded.  You will not stop me
again!"

Tristan stared at the diminishing form of the angry young
vampire.  When had this assignment gotten so out of hand, he
wondered sadly.  He flew then to the hospital.  Dressed as
an orderly, he could observe Natalie without raising
suspicion.    "Wake up, Natalie," he whispered to her
urgently when they were alone.  "I will not harm you.  I
promise.  You must wake up now!"

*****

He could not find her!  Natalie had taken the plane to Nova
Scotia, but there the trail ended.  She had missed her
cruise.  Amaru checked the hotels, but no one registered
under her name.  He even checked the hospitals, but she was
not there either.  Although he knew Janette despised her, he
called the Raven and asked to speak with her.

"So, do you miss me yet," Janette purred into the phone.

"I started missing you before I had even left, parajó,"* he
replied. He talked with her briefly, asking polite
questions.  Janette could be difficult when she chose, and
he didn't have time to play games with her.  "Have you heard
from Natalie?" he asked then.

"No.  Thankfully."

"She missed her cruise," he said.

Silence answered him.  He counted to ten, then continued.
"I fear that she has come to some harm.  Do you have any
idea where she might have gone, or why she didn't get on
that boat?"

Janette chewed her lip.  Natalie had been afraid; she had
mentioned feeling like someone was watching her.  Janette
had been only teasing when she told Natalie that if she were
in danger, then she would be dead, as Janette was powerless
to protect her from others of their kind.  Hesitantly, she
told Amaru about Natalie's fears.

"And you did nothing?  You did not even tell this to
LaCroix?"

Janette flinched at the accusing tone in his voice.
"LaCroix isn't here, Amaru.  He went away with Tracy."

"Who is with you!"

"I can take care of myself," she snapped.  "But LaCroix has
left Caspian in charge of the community in his absence."

"I am coming.  Together we shall search for answers."

Janette replaced the phone in its cradle.  Amaru was coming
back to her, but he was angry.  And it was Natalie's fault.
That woman seemed determined to ruin her happiness.  Janette
called her every name she could imagine in every language
she knew.  Then, she called Urs for help.


Amaru arrived before dawn.  Janette was contrite, ready to
inform him of all she had managed to uncover.  She sat
primly on the edge of the couch, wondering if he was still
angry with her.

The Inca closed the door and leaned against it.  Janette was
so lovely.  He had missed her.  She should be throttled for
her petty jealousy and foolishness, and yet, he forgave
her.  He smiled.  "Hello, Urs."

Janette waited until he spoke to her.  "Natalie said once
she thought she was being followed by a vampire.  I brushed
it off, I told her that if a vampire wanted to hurt her, she
would be dead before she could ask for help.  Then, two
nights later, she had another vampire turn up in her
morgue.  She brought him here.  I do not know what happened
between them, as I stayed downstairs, but he left first,
then she took a cab to the airport.  That's all I know."

"Did you see this vampire?  Did anyone else know who he
was?"

Janette shook her head.

Urs brought Amaru a drink, then sat nervously.  "It might
not be related," she began.  "But my newest customers are
missing."

Amaru turned and asked her to explain.

She shrugged her shoulders, almost apologizing for the
interruption.  "It might mean nothing.  But they were newly
arrived - and the older one was wearing one of Nick's
shirts.  He said Nat had given it to him.  They hired me to
clean for them, and they are really messy, but last night
their apartment was exactly as I left it a week ago.  I
think they have left town."

"How can we find out who they are?" Amaru demanded hotly.

Janette flinched, but then she gasped.  "We still have his
trousers.  I was going to throw them out for they are badly
stained."

Amaru followed her to the bathroom, where a pair of men's
jeans were tossed into the corner.  Urs shook her head.  If
she had been here, she would have already tried to remove
the stains, or the pants would be in the trash.  Janette was
so helpless at times.

Amaru looked at the stain.  The blood was old, and the
knowledge it once contained had faded.  All he could tell
from the faint scent was that it was the same he had found
in the revenant he had destroyed.  "We must contact
LaCroix," he said coldly.

Janette went to the phone and dialed downstairs.  "Tell
Caspian to come at once."

Caspian quickly entered, moving faster than Janette would
have guessed possible for such a large man.  Trevor was
right behind him.  Both were filled with concern.  Amaru
briefly explained the situation.  Caspian then placed a call
to a friend in Elsworth, the closest community to the motel
where LaCroix was believed to be staying.  "I suggest that
we all meet in Halifax," Caspian told the other vampire.
"We will search for her trail from there."

Diggin swept into the room, startling all of them.  "I will
come as well," he said.

Thirteen:

The second week of lessons went a little easier.  Nick had
finished the novel, but Colette had expected as much.  She
came equipped with another story he had not read, and then
another.  He progressed to reading the newspapers using an
electronic gadget that transcribed printed text into
Braille.

As the night drew nearer when he would meet Robin again, his
stomach twisted on him, gnawing with pain and hunger that
would not be satisfied.  Twice, when he'd slipped into the
bathroom to flush down the blood he had tried to consume, he
thought he felt a vampire nearby.  Only, no one was ever
there.

Colette snapped at him, claiming he wasn't trying.  Finally,
she tossed the books on the floor.  "That's it.  We'll knock
off early tonight, Nick.  I can find plenty to do at home
before Jase gets off.  And when I come back, I hope you're
ready to work.  Six weeks isn't very long, and we have a lot
to accomplish!"

Nick called after her, but she stormed from the home without
a backward glance.  Perry laid his head in Nick's lap.

"It's okay, boy," Nick said.  "She's right.  My mind is
elsewhere tonight.  I dread what I must do."

Perry licked his cheek.  Nick smiled.  "Okay, enough
moping.  Let's go."

He called a cab to take him to his downtown apartment, where
Robin was waiting for him.  She climbed in the backseat
beside him with a shy greeting.  She smelled clean and
fresh, and the sound her shoes had made on the pavement told
Nick she was wearing high heels.

"Robin," Nick said quietly, so the driver could not
overhear.  "Do you trust me?"

She hesitated.  He had nearly killed her once.  She had
found the truth in his blood and knew in her heart that Nick
would never intentionally hurt her.  She nodded.  "Yes,
Nick.  I trust you."

He squeezed her hand.  She thought his hand trembled
slightly, and wondered why he seemed more nervous than she
was.  The cab stopped and let them out.  Nick paid the fare,
staring blankly down the street until the car was out of
sight. Then he drew in a deep breath.

Nick seemed to transform right before her eyes.  His
shoulders squared and power rolled off him in waves.  His
eyes took on a hard look, concealing the gentle knight of
moments ago.  Robin drew back, a little afraid, wondering if
the demon had returned.  Nick passed Perry's harness to her
then, and told her to wait.   Climbing the stairs, he banged
on the door.

"Go away," came a female voice from inside.

Nick kicked the door, splintering the doorjamb.  It swung in
with a bang.  Robin heard the woman shriek, but she could
not see her from her position.  Nick stormed through the
opening.  "Serena!" he shouted.  "It's time we ended this!"

Serena rose from the couch and glared at the bane of her
existence.  "You are not welcome here," she snapped
disdainfully.

Nick bared his fangs and hissed.  He struck at the source of
her voice, his hand meeting her face squarely.  She
staggered, cursing at him.  He flew at her, pinning her to
the ground.  Straddling her, holding her down with one hand,
he reached inside his shirt and withdrew a sharpened
hawthorn stake.

Serena screamed.  "What are you doing!  Why are you doing
this!"

"I grow tired of you," he threatened.  "You came on to me!
You flirted with me, whom you thought to be a mere "man"
because you wanted me to give you a baby.  You used me,
Serena!  Don't deny it!  I think you got what you
deserved."

He shook the stake at her, tightening his hold on her
throat.  "Yet I apologized, Serena.  Over and over.  I said
I was sorry, and you treated me with hatred.  I gave you
your freedom, as you wished, and like a spoiled child, you
continue to revile me!  I have had it with you, with your
pathetic, miserable introspection.  I shall do us both a
favor and end your wretched existence now!"

"No!" Serena screamed, even as she saw him draw his hand
back, preparing to drive the stake through her heart.  Tears
ran down her face, her voice failed her as she sobbed
incoherently.

"Please, Nick!  Don't do this, I don't want to die!  I don't
want to die!"

"You are already dead."

She shivered.  Where had this vampire come from?  She had
never seen him like this before.  Tonight he was powerful,
vengeful, intimidating.  She tried to find him through their
bond, but that only frightened her more.  His mind was full
of rage; he was like one possessed.  Her life as a vampire
flashed before her eyes, the years she had wasted as she
sought a cure for the very condition that had allowed her to
live so many years.  She wept with fear; she wept for the
loss.

"What is this?" Nick roared, flicking a tear away with a
finger.

She winced.  "I don't want to die," she repeated, sobbing
uncontrollably.  "Please, master, I don't want to die."

Nick clenched his teeth, angry with himself that he had had
to do it this way, hating how much like LaCroix he sounded,
and yet, Serena had finally for the first time responded to
him as a fledgling should.

"Give me one reason why I should keep such a worthless
child," Nick demanded.

Serena bared her throat.  "Take it," she pleaded.  "I know I
have been spiteful.  I will change, I vow!  Drink, and know
I speak truth!"

Nick sank his fangs into her.  The blood spurted into his
throat and he gulped, struggling to keep it down.  He
couldn't take more than a few mouthfuls.  Then he withdrew
and closed the wounds.  Her blood was tragic.  It tasted
familiar, mostly because she was his child, but also, he
tasted the longing for something that could never be.  He
had made her like this.  Somehow, he had passed his own
wretched quest for mortality on to her.  He knew he was
going to be sick.  Nick swallowed, forcing the blood to stay
down a little longer.

"You say you want to change.  Prove it," Nick demanded
hotly.

"How?" her voice trembled.

"Adopt an orphan.  Take on her care and training, turn your
thoughts away from yourself.  Do this, and I will let you
live for as long as she does."

Serena shook.  Nick got off of her, yanking her to her
feet.  He didn't dare move, as he had come in here without
his dog.  He couldn't let her see his weakness now.  So he
kept a grip on her, letting his anger intimidate her still.

"Me?  Adopt a fledgling?  I don't know how to care for one,"
Serena whimpered.

"Then you will learn.  That is my condition."  He hefted the
stake again.

"I'll do it!" Serena shouted.

Nick released her.  He tucked the stake back inside his
shirt.  "Good.  Robin, you may come in now."

Robin stepped inside, holding the carouche who bared his
fangs and growled menacingly at Serena.  She stared at
them.

"Robin, this is my child, Serena," Nick said by way of
introduction.  "She needs you.  She just doesn't know yet
how much.  I think you will be happy here.  If you have any
problems, you know where to find me."

Robin came closer.  She smiled at Serena.  The other vampire
could be lovely, she thought, but she dressed in manly
styles that did nothing to show off her figure.  The blood
tears on her face were beginning to be reabsorbed, restoring
her face to simple beauty.

"Robin's master died of the Fever," Nick explained, his
voice suddenly gentle.  "She needs a home, and I think she
would be more comfortable with a woman, or I would take her
in myself."

"What happens now?" Robin asked.  "What should I do?"

Nick felt the blood rebel.  He had to leave soon, or all
might be lost.  "For now, just get to know one another.  If,
in a few weeks, you want to become bonded, I will explain
the ceremony.  After a bonding, it cannot be broken."

Serena stared at her master.  He was different.  His eyes
didn't seem to focus on her, filled as they were with a
power all their own.  He seemed even more frightening than
his ancient creator, LaCroix.  For the first time, she
realized his age and power.  "Master, I will take care of
her," she said softly.

Nick nodded once.  "Take her into the bedroom and comfort
her.  She is frightened."

Serena obeyed.  When the door closed behind her, Nick called
for Perry to help him.  Perry directed him towards the
phone, where he called first a cab, and then a carpenter to
repair the door.  Once outside, he ducked behind a bush and
tossed more blood upon the ground.  His knees gave out.  He
sat against the wall and trembled.  He had vomited more in
the passed week than he had for months.  Nick wondered if he
had the strength to stand.

Perry licked his face comfortingly.

"Thanks for the offer, Perry," Nick said.  "But I don't
think I could drink your blood, even if I could get through
all that fur."

"Woof."

"I love your coat.  It is soft, and I remember how silky it
looked when I first met you."

Again, Nick felt a vampire presence.  Panicked, he lurched
to his feet, finding strength he didn't know he had.  Then,
the presence was gone.  "I'm really losing it, Perry," Nick
sighed.

The cab pulled up.  Nick opened the door and sank into the
seat gratefully.   Briefly he considered searching for
Vachon, but he was too tired.  He slept on the short trip to
the blind school, and then staggered inside.

He climbed the stairs, wondering if he'd been right.  Serena
had wanted a baby, not a fledgling.  Could she find some
happiness in caring for Robin?  The vampire orphan was
strangely endearing, a frightened, lost soul longing for a
home.  He pushed open his door and froze.  The room was not
empty.

"Hello, Vachon," he said.  "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah, well you should have.  You look like hell.  What's
been going on?"

Nick closed the door and leaned against it.  He released
Perry, afraid to move another step.  "I'm tired, Vachon," he
said.  Then his eyes closed and his feet gave out on him.

Vachon lifted him, laying him gently on the bed.  He
unbuttoned his shirt, growling at how thin Nick had become
even just this past week.  Maybe the school was not such a
good idea?  Should he take him home?  But no one was there,
not LaCroix or Tracy, anyway.  He continued to undress Nick,
then tucked him in the small bed.  It had been a long time
since he'd shared a twin bed with anyone, but he was not
going to leave Nick like this.  He shoved the dresser in
front of the door to guarantee their privacy, then he
climbed in next to Nick.

Hours later, hunger stirred the elder vampire.  Nick's fangs
erupted and he growled fiercely.  Vachon clamped a hand over
Nick's mouth.  "Hush!  There are mortals nearby," he warned,
but Nick was not fully aware.  The vampire bit his hand,
sucking his blood savagely.  Vachon winced.  The hand was
not the most pleasant place to give blood, being more
sensitive than the wrist.  Still, he comforted Nick with
soft words and permitted the assault.  The vampire stopped,
withdrawing his fangs and returned to deep sleep.  Vachon
brought his bruised hand to his lips and licked the jagged
wounds.

"The things we do for love," he sang quietly.

As the sun neared the horizon, Nick awoke again.  This time
he seemed himself and didn't even seem to remember attacking
Vachon in his sleep.  Vachon glanced at his hand. The wounds
had healed although it was still a little tender.  He
shrugged it away.

"So, Nick.  You had a wild night, huh?"

Nick closed his eyes and reached through the faint bond with
his child.  Serena seemed happy, all things considered.  She
was currently exchanging blood with Robin, and the match
seemed to suit them both.  Nick smiled, and pulled away from
the link, without his child even knowing he was there.

"Yes, a wild, successful night.  I want to celebrate.  Do
you feel like going riding?"

They shared blood, then Vachon drank heavily from the
straight blood in Nick's fridge, not touching the special
bottles LaCroix had prepared.  He followed Nick outside to
the stables.  They saddled up and lead their mounts out into
the yard.  Nick swung a leg over his horse easily, seeming
unconcerned about riding blind.  "Perry, lead on," he said.
Then, whether he followed by scent or by sound, Vachon
didn't know, but Nick rode hard and fast in the wake of the
carouche.  Vachon kicked his horse's flanks and followed.
Too soon they reached the far wall of the estate.  Perry
flew over the wall easily, but Vachon held his breath.  The
horses were not capable of flying.  Nick leaned into his
horse, as if he was aware of the brick obstacle.  The horse
leaped, barely clearing the summit.  Nick gave a victorious
shout as they landed.  Vachon's horse vaulted the wall as
well.  On they rode, with only the moon to guide them, the
wind in their face, their hair blowing wildly, the sweat and
lather of the beasts between their legs, and Vachon could
not remember a happier moment.

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja


Fourteen:

A knock at the door rescued her.  Tracy tried not to smile
too brightly as LaCroix released her.  Her feet hurt and the
evening gown was scratchy.  A soft waltz continued over the
CD player.  The Spanish lessons had been bad enough, but
then LaCroix had expanded her training to include ballroom
dancing and social etiquette.  Tracy had never felt quit so
boorish and clumsy before.

LaCroix opened the large front door and stared at the
intruder.  It was a messenger.  "Forgive me, master," he
said.  "I bring bad news.  Caspian called."

LaCroix felt a stab of fear.  He reached out instantly for
his children.  Both were open for the contact.  Janette
seemed upset about something, but not terrified, and
Nicholas seemed positively ecstatic.  He gestured for the
messenger to come inside.

"Someone has kidnapped Natalie Lambert.  Her tickets to Nova
Scotia were used, but she never boarded the ship."

LaCroix gave no outward sign, but for a brief moment, Tracy
felt his pain.  Then his mind closed itself to her.

"Caspian said he would meet you at the airport."

"Thank you," LaCroix said.  "Do you require sustenance
before you return?"

"No, thanks," the messenger replied.  Tracy didn't blame him
for wanting to make a hasty retreat.

"Shall I pack?" Tracy asked.

"No, there isn't time.  We shall leave at once."

Tracy shook her head.  "I am not going to look for her in a
ballgown.  Let me at least pull on some jeans and a pair of
running shoes."

"Very well," LaCroix snapped.  "But be quick about it."

Only minutes later Tracy was flying through the sky,
desperate to keep up with LaCroix.  He hadn't bothered to
wait for a cab.  She knew she could never fly all the way to
Nova Scotia.  Her stomach was rumbling already.

"Keep up," LaCroix shouted at her.

Tracy blinked back tears.  Her wonderful, private vacation
had been cut short.  She didn't mind missing out on the
dancing lessons, but... Tracy was tired of feeling in last
place.

They flew only to Trenton, a small town on the mainland just
across from Mount Desert Island.  There was a tiny airport
there, where LaCroix chartered a small plane.  Soon they
were in the air again, only this time Tracy could relax.

Half an hour later, LaCroix put an arm around her shoulder
and kissed her forehead.  "Forgive me, daughter, for
interrupting our time together," he said.

Tracy gave him a smile.  "That's okay, LaCroix.  I'm worried
about her, too."

Then he held out his wrist for her.  "Drink.  We have a long
night, and you will need your strength."

"But what about you?"

He gave her a half smile, touched at her concern.  "I can
manage far better than you, my child, with little
sustenance."

Tracy took his wrist and stroked the back of his hand
lovingly.  "Thanks, Dad," she said.


The plane jolted on the landing, waking Tracy out of a
restless sleep. She looked around dazedly.  The night was
fading into dawn.  They wouldn't be able to do much tonight.

A rented Ford van met them at the plane. Tracy squealed in
surprise, for Amaru, Caspian, Trevor, Janette, Diggin and
Urs were all there to greet them. LaCroix sat up front with
Caspian, and they spoke softly in some ancient language.
Tracy hugged Urs, surprised at how great it was to see
familiar faces.

Caspian said they had already been to the airport, asking
the employees if any recalled seeing Natalie.  There were so
many people that came through, and even with a hypnotic
push, no one could recall if Natalie had been there, or who
she was with when she left.  Caspian drove to the lodgings
he had procured for them, a four-bedroom summer cottage,
fully furnished.  Urs had already hung blankets over the
windows.  The troop retired for the night, although hours
later Tracy thought she could still hear Caspian and LaCroix
talking.

"Natalie, please be okay," Tracy whispered.

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja


Fifteen:

Soft voices kept talking to her, disturbing her sleep.
Natalie wished they'd shut up and leave her alone.  Maybe
she should just tell them so.  Her mouth wouldn't respond.
Her tongue felt heavy, her throat dry and painful.  She
swallowed, which made the pain definitely worse.  She
coughed.

"You're waking up!  That's right, come back to me, Natalie,"
whispered the voice.

There was something familiar about it.  A cultured voice,
with a faint English accent.  The image of the handsome
young vampire she had rescued the night of her departure
came to mind.  "Tristan?" she whispered.

She heard a laugh that sounded more relieved than happy.
"Where am I?"

"You are in the hospital.  You got whacked on the head
pretty hard."

More images came to mind, the airport and the demented
vampire cab driver.  So why was she here?  The cabby had
been a stranger, one she'd never seen before.  Was he
somehow linked to Tristan?

She blinked and forced her eyes to open.  Yes, it was
definitely a hospital room.  She saw the IV dripping into
her arm, the heart monitor checking her vitals, and the
closed curtains.  Sunlight filtered around the edge; her
vampire was stuck here for the day.

"Tristan, tell me what happened, and tell me everything!"
she demanded.

Tristan brushed a lock of hair off her forehead, entirely
too close for a new acquaintance.  Nat flinched at his
touch.

"Another vampire, Joe.  He was supposed to follow you.  He
was not supposed to knock you senseless and nearly kill
you."

"Great.  That makes me feel better," she said snidely.  "So
what happens the next time?"

"If I have my way, he will never have a next time.  He
should not be granted the power of the enforcer."

"You're... an Enforcer?" Nat stammered.  She stared at him
in horror.  She knew from Nick that they were the most
feared of their kind, a sort of KGB of secret police, but
with incredible power, strength, and of course,
immortality.  Then she remembered his fangs, much longer
than LaCroix's and twice as deadly looking, and knew without
his answer that he was indeed, an Enforcer.

"You're doctor is coming," Tristan whispered.  "I shall be
back."

Nat didn't remember blinking, but in the space between
seconds, Tristan was simply not there.  She argued with the
doctor, demanding to know her exact condition, what
medications he was giving her, and when she could be
released.

The doctor was quite unprepared for that.  He asked her for
her name, and Natalie stared in shock as he scratched out
the "Jane Doe" on her file.  The entire shift of floor
nurses, physician's assistants and orderlies all came in
then, to welcome her back.  Nat waved half-heartedly.  She
was tempted to tell them that somewhere in her room a
vampire enforcer was hiding, and that a vampire had been
responsible for her injury in the first place, but she knew
that would only win her a short trip to the psychiatric
ward.  Finally, the doctor brushed all the visitors away.

"You get some rest, Ms. Lambert, and I'll see that a tray of
food is brought up here shortly."

Rest was not to be allowed.  Suddenly Tristan was there
again.  "I need to take you somewhere immediately.  Do you
feel well enough to travel?"

"I am not going anywhere with you," Nat said firmly.

Tristan opened the narrow closet where someone had hung the
outfit she'd last been wearing.  He laid the items on her
bed and turned his back, waiting expectantly.  "We must
leave at once," he snapped.  "It isn't safe for you here."

"Why?  You're the enforcer.  You're the one with all the
power."

"Joe hit you, Natalie.  I saw that you were brought to a
hospital, and I have kept your location from him, but he is
gone.  I don't know where he is right now.  I could go in
search of him, but he might double back and kill you before
I can catch him.  It would be safest to keep you with me."

Natalie laughed humorlessly.  "No.  I am not going.  This is
my vacation.  I want to get away from vampires.  I will go
no where with you."

Tristan whirled around, his eyes blazing and the deadly
fangs extending over his lower lip.  "Nicholas is
responsible for your knowledge, not LaCroix!"

Nat's face blanched.  Had she been delirious?  Had she
revealed more than she ought?  "No," she started to deny.

"You lead me to believe that LaCroix was responsible for
you, and so I was willing to look the other way, to grant
the ancient sufficient time to honor the code.  But Nicholas
is under suspicion himself!  You're chances of survival were
slim and none, and slim just flew out the window!"

"What are you going to do to Nick?" she whispered.

"Get dressed," Tristan said coldly.

Nat struggled to sit.  Her head throbbed painfully.  She
removed the saline drip and covered the small wound with a
tissue for a few moments.  A head injury could be serious,
but she had no fever or infection.  If the vampire wanted to
protect her, did she have any other choice but to comply?

"I will do nothing to Nick," Tristan promised.  "But he will
face the challenge.  Joe brought accusations back to the
council that LaCroix's son had discovered a cure, and was
beginning to cross back over.  He claims the blindness is a
result of the cure, and the council believes him, as there
has never been a vampire wound before that did not heal."

Natalie wished she had chosen to travel in soft sweats
instead of the form fitting skirt with a back zipper.  Her
blouse had a blood stain on the front.  Joe must have broken
the skin when he'd struck her.  Her head was throbbing, and
now her stomach rumbled as well.  How long had she lain
here?  "I don't think I can walk," she said.

Tristan turned around then.  "We won't."  He scooped her
into his arms and went to the window.

"But the sun," she stammered.

"As you know, I am an Enforcer," was his cryptic reply.
Forcing the glass open, he lifted into the sky.  Natalie
clung to his neck, afraid to look down.  His skin felt hot
to touch and it reddened, but it did not blacken and shrivel
up or smoke, as she had seen Nick's do.  He flew too fast,
like a rollercoaster ride about to break free from its
tracks.  She felt a scream in her throat, but she made no
sound to distract the being holding her life in his hands.

Tristan flew with her to what must have been his apartment,
for he seemed familiar with what few belongings were there.
Natalie saw her own suitcases as well.  "What does this
mean," she demanded.  "Whose side are you on?"

"Find something clean to wear," he ordered her.  "We will
catch a plane to Florida tonight, where you are going to
catch up with your ship."

"Why?"

"Because Joe knows you missed your boat.  He knows you
aren't there, so temporarily it is the safest place to be."

It made sense in a strange sort of way.  Right now though,
her head throbbed and on an ocean cruise was the last place
she wanted to be.  She started to lift one suitcase, but
Tristan took it for her and carried it to the bathroom.

"Be ready in thirty minutes.  If you tell me what you would
like, I will order you food."

What to order?  She couldn't even think.  She should order a
pepperoni pizza, extra garlic, just to annoy the vampire
that was annoying the hell out of her.  They might serve
dinner on the plane as well.  "Just get me an ice-cream
shake," she said.  Cold, smooth, non-greasy.  It might not
be nutritious, but at least, it should stay down.

Thirty minutes was enough time for a quick shower.  Then she
emerged in more comfortable traveling clothes, navy pants, a
white top with a nautical emblem, and a pair of white tennis
shoes.  Tristan had placed her chocolate shake from a
fast-food place on a glass plate on the kitchen table, with
a napkin, knife, fork, and spoon, as though it was a full
meal in a fine restaurant.  It made her laugh, in spite of
the incongruous situation she seemed to be in.

Tristan returned her suitcase to the living room, and
another small bag was next to hers.  He tried to look calm,
but Natalie saw beneath the façade that he fidgeted, anxious
to be off.  She slurped the shake too quickly, making her
headache worse.

A doorman came to take the suitcases then, and Tristan put
an arm around Natalie.  She would have shrugged it off, but
he hissed in her ear.  "For now, we are travelling as Mr.
and Mrs. Giovanni Lambertini.  Play the part, or we will
both be discovered."

"Is Joe so strong that you are afraid of him?" she
challenged.

"No.  But I'd guess that he won't come back alone.  He'll
get a small army to help him, by telling them that your
experiments are responsible for creating the Fever.  He will
not have any trouble finding willing accomplices."

For the first time, Natalie realized the danger she was in.
She leaned closer to Tristan, wishing instead that he were
LaCroix.

"How long do you think it will take for him to find our
trail?" she whispered.

Tristan snorted.  "Hopefully, he will not succeed.  While
you were unconscious, I planted false trails all over the
city.  It could take him months."

"But, how long must I hide?"

"Hush, now.  We'll talk later."

Natalie closed her eyes.  She didn't trust Tristan, but
there was no one else.  She felt sick with worry for Nick,
and part of her wanted to blame LaCroix for not being there
to protect them.  He probably didn't even know that she was
in danger!  Her limbs felt like dead weights, as the
activity had all been too much for her, and she succumbed to
exhaustion.

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja

Sixteen:

"Good evening, Nick," Aunt Mary called cheerily as Nick and
Perry came down the stairs.  "I have something for you!"

Nick grinned.  At first it had irritated him somewhat that
she seemed to treat him like one of the children, until he
realized that she treated everyone that way - Colette, the
caregivers, the grounds keeper, even the delivery men and
meter reader.  He imagined what it would be like to see her
patronize his ancient father, and almost laughed.  "Good
evening, Aunt Marie," he said.  "Now what do you have?"

Nick heard her reach into several pockets, murmuring softly
as she asked herself where she put it.  Although he knew she
was old and forgetful, he was just as sure that this was
part of the charade to build suspense.  "Well, if you find
it later," he said, feigning indifference.

"Oh, no!  I think, yes!  I put it on the table, in case I
went to bed before you arose.  Here it is!  You have a
letter."

His smile was genuine.  "From whom!" he asked, reaching out
eagerly to accept it.

"The script is so lovely.  You don't see people with
penmanship like that these days.  I think it says "Lucien
LaCroix".  Does that sound familiar?"

"Yes, that's my, my father," he said.  It was just easier to
say that then to try to explain the relationship.

She placed the letter in his outstretched hand.  "Would you
like me to read it for you?"

He beamed proudly.  "No, thanks.  I think I can manage on my
own."

Nick took the letter into the library before opening it.  He
withdrew two pages of sturdy paper covered with the raised
bumps of Braille.  How had the master done it?  He must have
found a typewriter somewhere... it was probably his
overprotective neurotic obsessive behavior, not wanting to
send a simple note in cursive in case Nick hadn't mastered
Braille and the computerized technology that would
transcribe the letter for him, forcing him to ask some one
to read it aloud.  He laughed when he tried to decipher the
first words, for it was in Latin!  This would take some
time, but he felt oddly eager to read it.  He missed his
family.

"My son, ... I trust that this missive finds you well.  How
are supplies holding out?  Let me know when I should send
more.

"Our journey here was pleasant.  Miss Vetter did not annoy
me with another round of twenty questions.  The in-flight
movie was a new rendition of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow".
A delightful film, really.  The blood flowed constantly,
dozens of heads rolled across the screen, and even a tree
oozed dark red when attacked with an ax.  Although it
stirred my appetite, I was loath to see it end.

"Tracy is progressing slowly with her Spanish.  The first
mortal had been from a small, rural community, and he had an
unfortunate vocabulary.  She is quite fluent in shipyard
cursing, but more erudite language remains beyond her
grasp.  She sees no handicap in this, as she feels confident
that she can communicate quite well with Vachon.  No doubt,
she is correct.

"Chateau Moliere is quite unchanged.  I am filled with
memories of our last visit here, at a pleasant time in our
past, and I find that I miss you.

"I trust you are studying hard.  You always did throw
yourself whole-heartedly into any endeavor.  That is one
thing that I have often admired about you.  Please take
care.

"LaCroix."

Nick set the letter aside, wiping an errant tear away
swiftly before any mortal could notice.  "I miss you, too,"
he whispered.  Then he sat at the computer Colette had been
teaching him how to use.  The computer was equipped with
Braille keyboard, the latest Occular Character Recognition
technology and combined with synthesized voice enhancement,
so he could hear what he wrote.

"Dear Sire," he began.  Then he worried.  What was the
proper address?  "Father" sounded to submissive, "master"
too formal.  "LaCroix" too distant, and "Lucien" to
intimate.  He deleted the word.  Then he began again.

"To my master, Lucien LaCroix, who has been both father and
friend," he wrote.  That should just about cover it.

"I was pleased to receive your letter this evening.  The
Latin review was a nice touch.

"Our journey here was perfect.  I love the boat.  There is
something so elemental about sailing, something pure and
refreshing.  It soothes both man and beast, with the
exception of one carouche.  Perry was "sick as a dog" the
entire voyage.  I hope he finds his sea legs soon, for I
hope to take the boat down to Chicago soon.

"I met with Serena last week.  She seems to have met a
crossroads and I think she is better off for it.  We made a
tentative truce, at least.  Robin is staying with her now,
which leaves my apartment here empty again.  I offered it to
Vachon, but he prefers to stay on the boat.

"Learning Braille was challenging, but the rest seems
easier.  This is a very small school, like nothing I
imagined, and I have one-on-one instruction.  This week
marks the half-point.  I confess I am eager to return home.

"Say "hola" to Tracy for me.

"Forever, Nicholas."

He listened to his letter once through, then printed it.  He
inserted an envelope next and used the wizard feature to
paste the address.  He tucked the letter into his pocket
then.  If Vachon stopped by, he could ask him to post it for
him.

Once again Nick felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle
from the presence of a vampire.  He bolted from his chair
and whirled around.  "Who's there," he demanded.

No one answered.  The house was silent, for all the mortals
had retired hours ago.  He made his way to the door and
reached out with his other senses.  Could it be Vachon?  The
Spaniard was often hard to detect, as he came from a
different line and he had spent centuries hiding from the
Inca.  But Vachon would not be playing this cruel joke.
Nick knew someone was watching him, and had been watching
him ever since he arrived.  Only, what did the other want?

Nick concentrated, following the faint trace to the front
door and out into the grounds.  He whistled for Perry then.
With the carouche by his side, he intended to end the game
now.

The vampire's trail wound through the grounds, crossing
back, through the stables, and then he almost lost it.  Nick
lifted a few feet off the ground, finding the trail again.
Then he knew where to look.  As though a shield had suddenly
dropped, Nick knew a vampire waited for him on the roof.

Perry flew with him, guiding him to the small widow's walk
at the peak of the Victorian home.  Anger consumed Nick,
even as he felt fear twist in his gut.  "Who's there!"  he
demanded.

The vampire moved, circling around Nick and he turned to
follow.  "Who are you!  What do you want!"

The vampire seemed to stop moving then.  For a moment he
lost the sense and wondered if he'd been chasing phantoms,
but then the sensation returned.  Nick took a step forward.
Perry growled menacingly.

"Who do you think I am," asked a man's voice.

Nick growled, baring his fangs.  "I think you are a mindless
fool, with too little to do."

The vampire laughed.  "Approach, young Nicholas de Brabant,
and find out for yourself."

Nick blanched, his gut was on fire.  The vampire used his
mortal name instead of his current moniker.  It would
suggest that he was at least as old, if not older, than Nick
himself, and yet, he did not sense him as he should.  For a
moment he wondered if it might be an Enforcer, but then he
wouldn't sense him at all unless he allowed it.  What if he
was an Enforcer?  Then Nick's days were numbered.

"Come ahead," the voice encouraged him.  It didn't sound
menacing.  It was a pleasant voice, a little gravelly, and
slightly accented.  His English was perfect, but Nick could
not place the country of his origin.

Hesitantly, Nick stepped closer and reached out until his
hands found the sleeve of the vampire.  Moving slowly, he
felt the vampire's shoulders.  He was a little taller than
Nick, and much wider.  Then he felt the neck, smoothly
shaven, and finally the face.  The vampire did not move as
he permitted Nick's contact.  He chuckled once and Nick
stopped, but curiosity emboldened him.

Gently, cold fingers continued the exploration.  A wide
smile, fang tips barely exposed, high cheekbones, a thickish
nose, bushy eyebrows and deep-set eyes, and very short,
coarse hair in tight, wiry curls.  Nick's hands returned to
the shoulders, keeping in contact with the elusive stranger,
but no longer probing.

"I don't know you," Nick stated.

"No, we have never met."

Nick grew tired of the game.  He punched through with his
other senses, forcing his way where he met resistance, until
he found what he was seeking.  What he felt terrified him.
He staggered backward, dropping down on one knee.

"My lord," he stammered.  "Forgive my rudeness.  I, I had no
idea!"

"Of course you didn't, child.  I wasn't intending to reveal
my presence to you."

Nick drew in a breath.  His mind was filled with questions,
his heart with fear.  What he felt from the ancient was more
powerful than the Enforcers.  He was from the Council, the
governing body, a panel of ancients that would make LaCroix
an infant by comparison.  They were generally reclusive,
avoiding vampire and mortal alike, and even their existence
was believed by many to be no more than myth.  The ancient
could destroy him in seconds with no more than a glance.

"Then, why did you?" he whispered.

The vampire chuckled again.  It was a warm, pleasant sound,
but it did little to alleviate Nick's fear.  "I did not,
Nicholas.  No vampire has ever sensed my presence before.
How do you do it?"

Nick stammered.  How did he do what?  Perhaps the ancient
was toying with him.  Foolish anger stirred, he didn't want
his death to provide amusement for some sick elder.  Before
he could blurt something stupid, his stomach lurched.  Nick
turned, doubled over and vomited.

The ancient took a step nearer, but the carouche bared his
fangs and growled, protecting him.  "Down, Perry," Nick
gasped, as the spasms continued to shake him.  There was no
reason to drag the carouche into hell with him tonight.

"So, at least part of what I've heard is true," the ancient
murmured.  "Come here, child."

Nick wanted to resist.  The illness always left him feeling
weak afterwards and very tired.  He struggled to stand, then
squared his shoulders.  If the ancient wanted to kill him,
Nick would not make a show of pleading for mercy.  Following
his other, stronger senses he approached the ancient again.
He bristled as he felt the ancient's approval.  Damned
arrogant... Nick stopped his thoughts quickly, as he
realized that the ancient was most likely able to read them.

The ancient put an arm around his shoulders, at once both
commanding and supportive.  "We have much to discuss,
Nicholas.  Is there a place you would recommend where we
will not be interrupted?"

Nick thought quickly.  So he would not die on the rooftop,
his bones would not greet the sun.  "I have an apartment.  I
have not lived there for some time."  He gave the address.
The ancient rose then, supporting Nick as they flew.  Perry
whined uncertainly.  Nick whistled to him and the dog leaped
to follow.

The apartment smelled of lemons and beeswax.  Robin must
have moved out and cleaned thoroughly after herself, for
Serena had never shown much talent in keeping house.  Nick
was unsure.  What if Robin had rearranged the furniture?  He
wished the ancient would release him, as Perry would not let
him trip over anything.

"You may call me Zuhayr," the ancient said.  "Explain to
me.  You are strong; I have seen you with your fledgling.
You were able to follow me, although I tried in earnest lose
you.  Yet, now I see the blood on your brow and sense you
are quite weak.  What is the cause?"

"You were there? At Serena's?" Nick stammered.  He was not
proud of the way he had abused her.  Although she promised
to make changes in her life which would only be for the
better, Nick knew the ends did not justify the means.
Still, he had acted as a vampire master was expected to
act.  Of course the ancient would be pleased with that.

The ancient waited for the answer to his question.  Perry
came to sit at Nick's heel, whining softly.  The carouche
could sense Nick's exhaustion and wanted only to protect his
young charge, yet now he realized the ancient was one to
command respect.

"I don't know for sure," Nick said.  He knew that it was
impossible to tell a lie to one such as Zuhayr.  If the
ancient took his blood, the truth would be manifest, and
yet, the truth would very likely get him in deeper waters
than he was already.  His stomach was still on fire, and
threatened to revolt again.  When it was this painful, human
blood would not help.

"I was searching for a cure," he confessed.  "For a long
time.  I tried to consume many things that I might find a
substitute for the blood of mortals.  A hole formed in my
stomach's lining, and strong emotions irritate it."

Zuhayr grumbled softly at Nick's confession, but he hadn't
told any secrets.  He had been searching for a cure for over
a century, surely every vampire on the planet had heard of
that by now.

"And what of this cure?  Did you find one?"

"No."  Nick rubbed at his stomach absently.  They still
stood in the entryway of the apartment, the ancient's heavy
arm still around his shoulder.  Nick needed to sit down.

"There is no cure.  And I have stopped searching."  That
too, was truth.  Perhaps one day he would look again, but
not for a long time.  He would give anything if only he
could be once again a healthy vampire.

Zuhayr brushed the hair at Nick's forehead in a paternal
gesture.  Then he loosened his collar and invited Nick to
drink, drawing Nick in with a firm hand.

Nick hesitated.  It was wrong.  Ancients fed on the young.
He should not take such liberties with a member of the
council, and yet, how could he disobey?  His knees were
weakening and he would have fallen to the floor without
Zuhayr's quick support.  His face was pressed against the
smooth throat, his fangs erupted again.  Nick nuzzled the
tender flesh, and felt the ancient chuckle.

"Go ahead, child," Zuhayr encouraged him.

Then Nick struck, sinking his fangs.  The ancient blood
filled his mouth and he gulped greedily.  It had a warm
flavor Nick could not identify, but he was too hungry to
analyze it.  When he would have withdrawn, the ancient held
him firm.

"Will you submit?" he asked.

Nick stiffened.  The ancient had just asked for his blood.
It was as it should be, and yet he felt somewhat betrayed,
almost like the ancient had tricked him into intimacy like
some ignorant virgin.  He craned his neck to bare the throat
in unspoken supplication, but he bit harder and sucked more
fiercely.

Zuhayr returned the bloodkiss and tenderly sipped from him,
only a mouthful, and then he closed the wound.  It was so
quick, that it could not have truly satisfied any carnal
needs.  Nick withdrew his fangs then, shamed and confused.

"Better now?" Zuhayr asked.

Nick nodded meekly.  "Yes, lord.  Thank you."

Zuhayr loosened his hold as if testing if Nick truly could
stand on his own.  Then he stepped back.  "Nice little
place," he said, moving away from Nick.  "Come into the
living room and sit down."

Perry jumped to Nick's aid.  Robin had moved the furniture
around from how he'd remembered it, but Perry brought him to
a couch and sat at his feet, resting his head on Nick's
shoes.

Zuhayr then questioned him about his blindness, and the
carouche guide dog, and his presence in Montreal, and how he
was getting along with LaCroix. The questions were
interminable and unnecessary.  He should have been able to
read what he needed to know in the blood.

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja

(Chapter 16, continued)


"Nicholas, charges against you were brought to the council,"
Zuhayr said hours later.  "Joseph Ben Achmed, child of
Tamar, reported that you were blind and dependent upon a
carouche to survive.  No one believed him at first.  He
claimed that your weakness exposed you to the mortal world,
and that your mortal friend, in trying to find a cure for
vampirism, created the Fever that killed so many of us.
These are formidable charges.

"Yet, LaCroix is no fool.  He knows the Code and has earned
the right to defend himself and his progeny.  Joseph cried
out favoritism, and took his complaint to the Enforcers.  I
decided to come and investigate personally, before this
situation gets out of hand."

"Natalie did not cause the Fever!" Nick blurted.  "She found
the cure!"

"Others say it was LaCroix who discovered the cure,
Nicholas.  Even your own blood supports that."

Nick covered a yawn and shuddered.  Dawn must be near.  He
still didn't know if he was to be killed, but it seemed less
likely.

"LaCroix was angry.  I was dying.  Many others had already
died.  He attacked one of Natalie's friends and killed him,
exacting his form of justice.  Only, when he brought the
corpse to the morgue to gloat, Natalie saw that he was no
longer ill.  She realized then that blood infected with the
AIDS virus would cure the Fever in vampires.  She didn't
want this knowledge to lead to indiscriminate killing of all
AIDS patients, so she searched for tainted, donated blood
and created a "vaccine" for vampires.  Only, there wasn't
time for that to save me.  The tainted blood still flowed in
LaCroix's veins.  When I fed from him, I fed on his victim
as well.  So LaCroix cured me, but Natalie's vaccine cured
all the others."

"I see," Zuhayr said thoughtfully.

"The rest is true, I'm afraid," Nick murmured.  He yawned
again.  "I am blind, and Perry does help me."

Perry perked up at the mention of his name.  He smiled at
the ancient vampire and panted expectantly.

"He may be your eyes, Nicholas, but he is not your
strength.  You have discovered abilities no vampire your age
has ever before possessed.  Perhaps you have discovered
something important?  A new way of training our progeny?  We
need to be stronger, for in these modern times, our old ways
are no longer enough."

Nick nodded blankly.  He thought intentionally blinding a
fledgling in order to train him was a bit extreme.  His
thoughts were fuzzy.  He felt strangely weightless, then
felt the familiar comforting sound of a vampire's slow
heartbeat pulsing against his face.  A chill air touched his
skin as his clothing was gently removed.  Then he was in
bed, in a protective embrace.  He couldn't remember
LaCroix's return... he smiled in his sleepy state.  The
ancient missed him.  "Good day, master," he whispered.

Zuhayr did not answer.  The golden child curled into his
embrace, his features relaxed.  LaCroix was a lucky master
to possess such a delightful creature.  The minute taste of
Nicholas had assaulted his senses with light and passion.
He would bring an interesting report back to the council.

Zuhayr did not sleep.  One as old as he was not as affected
by the circadian rhythms of the sun.  He could go for days
without rest.  This young vampire showed great promise.
Yet, his sources had informed him that Joseph Ben Achmed was
coming to Toronto with a lynch mob, determined to see
Nicholas destroyed. There must be some way he could help
him, but he could not fight his battles for him.  If a
vampire could not defend himself, then he was a risk to the
entire community.  Zuhayr arose, and prepared for the night
ahead.

*****

Nick felt a wet tongue on his cheek.  "Knock it off,
carouche," he warned playfully.  Perry licked him again,
gently nipping an ear.  Nick wrapped his arms around the
beast's neck and rolled, wrestling him to the floor.  "I
warned you," he threatened, grinning around his fangs.
"Must be time for you to have a bath, too!"

"Woof!"  Perry struggled out of his grasp and pranced just
out of reach.

Nick sat up.  For a few moments he was disoriented, until he
remembered that he was not in the blind school.  This was
his apartment.  Reaching outward, he realized that the
ancient Zuhayr was still there.  "Come boy," he called.

Perry wagged his tail but remained where he was.

"I was only joking.  I won't give you a bath."

"Woof!"

"I promise," Nick said.  Perry came to his aid then,
assisting him to the shower.  Nick took his time.  He wasn't
really eager to face Zuhayr again.  He had thought LaCroix
was intimidating, but at least he knew that LaCroix would
never intentionally kill him... with Zuhayr he wasn't sure.

Nick and Perry came into the kitchen, but the refrigerator
had been emptied and cleaned.  There was nothing there to
eat.  "I should be going," Nick said hesitantly.

"No," Zuhayr answered.

Nick felt ready to argue, as he often did when LaCroix
treated him like this, but he wisely held his tongue.  Going
to the front door, he let Perry out to hunt for himself.
Sometimes Nick almost envied the carouche's ability to
hunt.  Nick just couldn't work up any sympathy for the rats
or other vermin the carouche would drain tonight.

Concentrating, Nick recalled the placement of the furniture
as best as he could remember it from last night, and went to
sit on a couch.  Zuhayr joined him, sitting across from
him.

"What do you know about Joseph Ben Achmed?" Zuhayr asked.

Nick shrugged.  "He is a carpenter.  LaCroix had him do some
work at his nightclub.  I guess he's alright.  I don't
really know him."

"Why does he want you dead?" Zuhayr asked bluntly.

Nick swallowed.  Joe had apologized for teasing him, at
LaCroix's insistence, and Nick had accepted the apology at
once.  He thought they had parted on good terms.  "Joe isn't
angry with me," Nick said then.  "LaCroix kicked him out of
Toronto.  Perhaps he wants to hurt me to get back at
LaCroix.  It wouldn't be the first time I have been a target
for LaCroix's enemies."

Zuhayr nodded.  Unfortunately, such was the case more often
than it should be.  It placed fledglings in constant risk.
Their numbers were diminishing constantly, as so few
fledglings ever survived to become mature members of the
community.  The ancients, even as old as LaCroix, had mostly
given up bringing any across.  Yet, since they lived in
small, isolated communities and were for the most part
self-governing, there was little, if anything, the council
could do about it.

"Joseph is coming to Montreal to destroy you," Zuhayr said.

Nick blanched.  He said not a word, struggling to keep his
face expressionless, yet he fervently wished he had never
stepped out of Toronto!  Still, Joe was not that old.
Perhaps he and Vachon could take him on.

"He is not coming alone," Zuhayr continued.

"Then I must leave at once," Nick said, thinking aloud.

"That is one option," Zuhayr said.  "But perhaps not the
wisest."

"I can't take on a gang right now!"

"No, you can't.  And I will not fight with you.  If you wish
to survive, you must prove that you can defend yourself, in
spite of your disability."

Nick clamped his mouth shut.  He knew the Code.  If only
he'd stayed with LaCroix, perhaps his eyesight would have
returned before this issue had ever come up.

"I will help, only by keeping the fight fair.  I will
prevent his comrades from helping him.  It will be between
you and Joseph.  You must vanquish him."

Suddenly, learning to read Braille and manipulate specially
adapted computer equipment seemed insignificant.  What use
were these blind man's tricks?  Nick rubbed at his abdomen
as the turmoil tore at his stomach savagely.

Zuhayr came to him and offered his ancient blood once more.
Nick accepted it readily without regard to custom, so
distracted was he.  It grew late, Colette would be waiting
for him, but Nick couldn't think about that now.

Desperation made him a quick thinker.  He couldn't fight Joe
here, where the apartment threw a hundred obstacles at him.
There were few places he knew well enough.  The best
location to meet Joe would be outside; he told Zuhayr as
much.  The ancient agreed.  He led the way, and they flew
out of the city.

At a clearing, where a new housing project was scheduled for
construction, Zuhayr landed.  Silently, Nick took Perry by
the harness and walked through the area, concentrating on
the terrain. He learned where the sewer pipes were being
laid, where the ground was torn up, where the electric boxes
marked the corner of each new lot.  He found where the damp
ground showed areas of poor drainage, and where a slight dip
in the land led to a shallow creek.  The walking helped to
keep him focused, taking his mind off his stomach.

Just after midnight Nick felt their approach.  "Tell LaCroix
I died well," Nick murmured softly.

Zuhayr stood then as well.  He searched the skies and the
young pup was right.  A band of nine young vampires flew
nearer.  He stared at the blind vampire in awe.

Joe landed not five feet away from Nick.  The others all
lighted to either side.  Zuhayr took several steps closer to
Nick, offering silent support.

"So, Nick.  You've got a bigger babysitter," Joe taunted.

"Joe.  I apologize for LaCroix.  He was wrong to treat you
so harshly."

"I don't need your help, freak," Joe sneered.  "You're a
pathetic waste of immortality.  We're here to fix that now."

Zuhayr cleared his throat and let his ancient presence flood
over the assembly.  When he had their attention, he spoke.
"Joseph, you brought a complaint against Nicholas to the
council.  We find him innocent of the more serious charges,
and choose to ignore the lesser ones, giving him fair
warning.  You are ordered to leave here at once."

Joe ignored the order.  He threw a few insults at the
ancient as well.  "I knew you sniveling old geezers wouldn't
have the guts to do anything, so I took my complaints to the
Enforcers.  They're looking for Nick now.  So back off."

Zuhayr stepped forward and compelled the eight other
vampires to listen.  "Nick was not responsible for the
Fever.  His mortal friend did in fact save us, discovering
the cure.  Any who harms either him or the mortal, will have
the council to answer to."

The eight others backed up, hesitating now to get involved.
Joe growled angrily.  "Cowards," he hissed.  "Forget it.
It's just you and me, Nick.  You should have stayed with
papa!"

He flew at Nick then, tackling him to the ground.  Zuhayr
winced.  Living in seclusion with the other ancients he was
unused to the rollicking free-for-alls of the young.

Nick rolled and got back to his feet swiftly.  He still did
not take an aggressive posture, but rather continued to try
to calm Joe with words.  Joe flew at him twice more.  He
pummeled Nick's most vulnerable spot, his stomach.  Blood
oozed from his mouth, dark and thick with his own, unique
scent.

Nick regained his feet, weaving slightly.  The next time
when Joe lunged for him, he ducked.  Again and again Joe
tried to tackle him, but each time the blind vampire avoided
him almost effortlessly.  Joe's fangs lashed out, ripping
Nick's forearm.  Still Nick did not strike back.  He
concentrated on defense.  Zuhayr admired the way Nicholas
handled himself, and it was hard to tell that the vampire
could not see.

Joe did not seem to tire.  The endless fight only further
enraged him.  He fought viciously, tearing at Nick's
clothing, his arms, his hands, but always missing the
vulnerable throat, his ultimate target that would end the
battle.  Nick was coated in a blood sweat, blood soaked the
front of his shirt from his own vomit.  Still, he deflected
Joe's deadly fangs.  Perry whined, begging to come to Nick's
aid.  Only Nick's firm command, enforced by Zuhayr's more
powerful warning, kept him at the periphery of the fight.

Suddenly, Nick gained the advantage.  Joe's feet slipped on
damp ground, and Nick was on top of him.  He plunged his
fangs into Joe's throat and sucked him fiercely.

Joe bucked beneath him, screaming first in anger and then in
fear. Nick held him firmly.  The cold, vampire blood soothed
his tortured stomach and renewed his strength.  Joe grew
weaker, his attempts to throw Nick off became more feeble.
Then he relaxed as if resigned to face his death.  When Nick
had consumed enough, he would be able to rip his head from
his shoulders and end his existence.  Joe closed his eyes to
wait for the end.

Nick withdrew his fangs, angry at himself for losing
control, angry that he had enjoyed any part of it.  He sat
back, still straddling Joe.

"Well," Joe gasped, barely enough strength left to form the
word.  "Finish it."

"No," Nick said.  "You're grievance was with LaCroix, not
me.  It is over, Joe.  Let it go."

Joe blinked.

Nick got up then and hauled Joe to his feet.  "Go home,
Joseph Ben Achmed.  Leave justice to others."  Then he
turned his back and walked away.

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja


Seventeen:


"Oh, Van, you are too funny," the heavyset woman who shared
their dinner table exclaimed.  Nat stared in morbid
fascination as her double chins waggled in syncopation.
Tristan, or "Giovanni" as he was calling himself now, sat
casually beside her, one arm around the back of her chair
and the other resting on the dinner table.  His plate was
still heaped with food, and yet because of his subtle powers
of suggestion, no one except Natalie had noticed that he did
not eat.

"It has become my personal crusade to expose stupidity
wherever it is found," Tristan continued.  "We have all
grown accustomed to clerks who cannot make change, or
construction workers who cannot read the numbers on a tape
measure. We even accept it, although I'm sure we should
not.  My main grievance is when stupidity gets elected or
promoted to positions of authority.  That is the topic of my
book, and unfortunately I have abundant material!"

Natalie found herself smiling easily, enchanted by Tristan's
charm.  They were still posing as husband and wife and had
shared a stateroom for over a week.  Tomorrow they would
return to Halifax... her dream vacation was nearly over.

It had not turned out quite like she had expected.  Natalie
had wanted to get away from vampires!  Tristan was mainly
here to protect her, yet, he unwittingly served another
purpose.  Natalie realized that she didn't have to base her
decision to become a vampire purely on her opinion of
LaCroix.  There were hundreds of other vampires in the
pool.  Tristan was handsome, pleasant, relaxed, and she
could easily imagine spending half a century in his company
before moving on.  So her real question was, did she want to
live forever in the dark, or enjoy the sun and die?

"But why do you keep such odd hours?" the lady asked.
"Natalie is always alone during the day.  You didn't even
get out to enjoy the beach when we docked at Nassau!"

Tristan laughed lightly.  "I always write at night and sleep
during the day, dear lady.  It is the only way to be
productive.  During the day, the phones ring constantly with
solicitations, and dogs bark, and people come and go.  I
started to work nights a long time ago, and it is too much a
habit to change now.  Besides, I think Natalie enjoys
getting away from me for a while," he said, grinning widely.

Natalie blushed.  She noticed the way he wove half-truths
around his stories.  He was very convincing.

"That's not true, Nat, is it?" she prodded.  "If I were
married to such a hunk, I'd be afraid to let him out of my
sight ever!"

Her companion, a more slender woman every bit as old as she,
grunted disdainfully.  "Leave them be, Rosella.  Young
people are different today.  Their ways seem strange to us,
but that is the nature of things.  Now put off your
senseless prattle."

Natalie covered her mouth with her napkin, trying to hide
her amusement.  They were the funniest couple. They had met
twenty years ago when both their husbands passed away.  The
friendship born of loneliness blossomed over the years.
They started taking cruises, originally to try to meet
someone "eligible", but even after all thoughts of
remarriage had dimmed with time, they continued to travel
together.

Natalie saw what could be her future in them.  Widowed,
alone, and lonely... mortality was looking less desirable
all the time.

The band came on stage amidst cheers and applause.  Dressed
in white tuxedoes and playing jazzed up tunes from bygone
eras, they were completely different from the bands Natalie
was accustomed to hearing.  Tristan stood and extended a
hand for her.  "Shall we dance?"

Natalie placed her hand in his and smiled, appearing very
much to be the blushing bride.  Tristan made her pulse
race.  Was he doing something to her, she wondered?  Like
whammying her into acquiescence?

He pulled her close and swept her away in the easy ballroom
dance.  While the other passengers joined in, the staff was
able to clear the tables.  Natalie could get used to dancing
every night after dinner, she thought with a grin.

"So are you looking forward to tomorrow," Tristan asked.

Natalie looked away from him, taking in the other couples on
the dance floor.  There were young ones recently married,
old ones celebrating a full life together, there were
couples not officially married, and like her table-mates,
couples that were only friends.  All seemed carefree, living
in the luxury of wining and dining, yet how many of them
would return to stressful jobs and careers?  None of them
had problems as insurmountable as hers, she thought dryly.

She was still caught between LaCroix and Nick.  Wanting to
help the younger, wanting to love the elder, wanting to
belong and be a part of the family, yet still the outsider.
And still hunted by some crazed vigilante vampire named Joe.

"Not really," she answered truthfully.

Tristan held her closer, his mouth a grim line.  "I do not
know what we will find when we reach Halifax," he said
softly.

Natalie tried an indifferent shrug to lighten the moment.
"Joe's not the whole issue, either," she said.  "This is my
first real vacation in eight years.  I'm just not ready to
go back."

"Then don't," he said.

She laughed.  "Oh yes, you vampires do take a cavalier
attitude to such things as jobs, responsibilities,
commitments.  I can't just take off again.  Besides, I can't
afford it."

Tristan leaned closer and whispered in her ear.  "Let me
treat you to another cruise, Natalie.  I feel some
responsibility in ruining this one.  It is the least I can
do to make it up to you."

She leaned her head against his chest.  It was rather
tempting.  And really, what would her boss say?  He'd
probably throw a temper tantrum and threaten to cut her
wages, but he would never do it.  He needed her and they
both knew it.  "I'll think on it," she said, surprising
herself.

****

Tracy stared at her master as he destroyed the cab, tearing
the doors and ripping the metal panels as though they were
only paper.  He had caught the scent of Natalie's blood on
the seat.

There wasn't enough blood for it to be a mortal wound.
Tracy had found that encouraging, but LaCroix saw it as
proof that Natalie was indeed in danger.  Until now, they'd
been chasing phantoms.

The trails had been numerous, all false leads.  Natalie's
jacket was left at a restaurant on the north side, her
passport and wallet had been discovered in a dumpster and
handed over to the police on the south side.  There were
motel owners who swore that she had stayed a night in one of
their rooms, and yet, when pressed with vampire hypnotism,
LaCroix discovered that their memories had already been
altered.  Some one was thwarting him, and he was angry
enough to tear him limb from limb whenever he caught him!

The cab was the first real lead in their search.  Natalie
had taken it, her blood attested to that.  But where had she
gone next?

Caspian flew into the alley with Trevor as always right
behind him.  "Stop that," he snapped at LaCroix.

The ancient heaved the entire cab, or what little remained
of it, and stuffed it into a dumpster.  Then he clapped his
hands together as if ridding himself of dirt.  "Well?" he
demanded.

"There was a police call three nights after Natalie's plane
landed here.  A woman was found with a head wound and no
identification.  She was taken to the hospital.  It may be
another dead end, but I have sent Amaru there to
investigate."

Tracy blinked tears of empathy.  Her master looked so lost.
He didn't know what to do, and she was certain it was a
situation he was not familiar with.  If only there was
something she could do for him, to ease his suffering.
She'd been trying to be quiet and helpful, and keep out of
the way, but if only there was something more. She grew more
fearful the longer they went without finding her.  Tracy
began to doubt that Natalie was even still alive.

She gulped miserably, remembering all the times she'd
treated Natalie badly.  Teasing her, taunting her, not
extending the hand of friendship.  How lonely Natalie must
be, caught between two worlds and not really a part of
either.  She could never talk to her mortal friends about
her vampire lover, and the other vampires seldom included
her in their circles.  If only she would be all right!
Maybe there was still time to make it up to her?

"Come, Lucius.  Let us return to the cottage to wait for
him," Caspian directed.

LaCroix let himself be led away.  He sat silent and
motionless as Tracy brought him something to drink, and
Janette stood behind him, massaging his shoulders to comfort
him that he was not alone.

They didn't have to wait long for Amaru's return.  Tracy was
still uncomfortable around him.  He had nearly killed her
when they first met, right after she discovered the
existence of vampires.  He had seemed the more honorable of
the twins, and yet, it was Vachon who stirred her blood.
She stared at him now, assessing him.

He had changed out of his ethnic robes into more generic
blue denims and a dark shirt.  He wore soft leather
moccasins, though, instead of tennis shoes.  His hair was
shoulder-length, but unlike Vachon's unruly mop, it was
smooth and straight, curling under slightly, looking
impeccably well-groomed with his perfectly trimmed goatee
and mustache.

Amaru stood several feet from LaCroix, his expression
solemn.  "The woman at the hospital was not Natalie," he
said.  "The doctor said the Jane Doe had flame red hair and
wore glasses."

LaCroix made no sign that he had even heard.  He remained
impassive.  But Tracy could sense the quiet desperation
emanating from him.  She saw the way a small muscle in his
jaw twitched, saw the hands clench until the skin was taut
over the knuckles and small drops of blood oozed from where
his fingernails tore his flesh.

They had run out of trails.  Somehow, the coroner had
disappeared without a trace.  That was not unusual for a
vampire kill.  Only the inept would leave a body to be
discovered.  They all realized that they most likely would
never find her now.

Suddenly LaCroix rose.  "Where are you going?" Janette
asked, voicing Tracy's question as well.  He ignored her,
throwing the door open wide and lifting into the sky.
Silently, all the others followed him.

LaCroix flew towards the harbor.  Tracy blinked, rubbing at
the tears that threatened to spill.   He was going to watch
her boat come in, even knowing that she was not on it.
There was something so tragic about that.

As he dropped to the pier, the mortals who had come to greet
their returning friends and family all pulled away from him,
perhaps sensing the black rage that consumed him.  He stared
at the luxury liner slowing making its way to the pier.  A
horn blared, a deep, mournful sound. An air of expectation
filled the mortals; they cheered and waved to the people on
board, although they could not possibly be heard over the
other noises.  Then, the boat docked.  The engines killed,
and a gangplank extended to the pier.  The guests started to
leave the ship, carrying luggage and souvenirs and cameras,
juggling all to still manage to wave to some one on the
shore.

Then he saw her!  His mind must be playing tricks, for
Natalie was departing, carrying bags of her own, smiling and
laughing to a young man beside her!  She looked out over the
crowds and spotted him.  A confused look, then one of
surprise, crossed her familiar features.  "Lucien!  You're
here!" she shouted.  She dropped her bags and ran, pushing
others aside, as she leaped into his arms and hugged him.

LaCroix remained stiff.  This was no phantom.  This woman
was flesh and blood.  And she was on the boat after all,
laughing and smiling without a care in the world, while he
had gone to hell and back to search for her.  Her companion
caught up with them then, carrying her bags.  LaCroix
realized then that he was a vampire.

LaCroix set Natalie aside.  He lunged for the vampire's
throat, fangs bared, prepared to kill.  Caspian gestured to
the others to close in around them to prevent any mortals
from witnessing the scene.  Natalie screamed.

"LaCroix, stop this at once!"

"Natalie, you're alive," Tracy shouted.

"LaCroix, stop," pleaded Tristan.

Trevor trembled.  He moved closer to his master for
protection, unsure of the violence in the air.

Natalie forced herself between LaCroix's menacing fangs and
Tristan's bared throat.  "LaCroix!  He is not to blame.  He
protected me from the others!  Stop this at once and
listen!"

(continued)

Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja

(Chapter 17, continued)

Caspian placed firm hands on LaCroix's shoulders, helping
him to bring his rage under control.  LaCroix closed his
lips over his fangs but kept a grip so tight that he was
bruising Tristan.

"Let's take this someplace private," Caspian advised.

LaCroix would not relinquish his hold on the vampire whom he
chose to blame for the agony he had been through.  Amaru
gallantly offered Natalie a lift, Diggin and Trevor took her
bags, and the troop returned to the cottage they had
rented.

Natalie sank into the soft sofa.  She shook her head when
Tracy asked if she needed anything to eat.  Food had been
shoved at her non-stop for the remainder of the cruise -
breakfast, morning snacks, lunch, afternoon snacks, dinner,
desserts, and after dinner drinks... Nat was certain she had
put on a few pounds.  She was tired, though, and still
worried about the rampaging vampire threat, and glad to see
LaCroix, but furious of his treatment of Tristan.

Caspian took control.  "Natalie," he said, his deep voice
resonating through the room.  "We were told you had missed
your cruise.  We have been looking everywhere for you, and
believed you were dead.  Can you explain how you happen to
be on that ship?"

"Yes," she said firmly.  "I will, just as soon as you
release him, Lucian."

LaCroix glared at her, still enraged and barely recognizing
her at all.

"Release him," Nat repeated slowly.

LaCroix loosened the fingers of one hand and then the
other.  Tristan doubled over, rubbing at his bruised throat,
then quickly regained his strength.  He glared at LaCroix
and bared his fangs, letting the Enforcer in him loose to
intimidate them.  Amaru and the young vampires all stepped
back, but Caspian, Diggin and LaCroix did not move.  Natalie
cursed loudly.

"Oh stop all this I'm-bigger-than-you-are-crap!  Tristan,
sit down!  LaCroix, sit down!"

Caspian laughed uproariously.  "Oh, LaCroix!  You always
knew how to pick the amusing ones!  I think she is more
disrespectful than even Nicholas!"

Nat glared at him, but his insult had had the desired
effect.  LaCroix and Tristan sat opposite each other and the
tension in the room lifted, if only partially.

"Some vampire named Joe was after me," Nat explained
quickly.  "Tristan was trying to protect me from him."

Tristan went in to more details then, when LaCroix seemed
willing to listen.  He told about Joe's failed attempts to
incite the council against Nick, and then getting the
Enforcers involved.  He told how he was only supposed to
gather information on Natalie, and not destroy her, but Joe
decided to take matters in to his own hands.

"When I couldn't find him, I thought the cruise was the
safest place for Natalie to be," he explained.

"I did write to you," Nat said.  "But, the mail is so slow,
the letter is probably still on its way to Maine.  You
should be getting it in a day or two."

LaCroix's expression remained impassive.  "Joe," he
murmured, trying to place the name.

"Joseph Ben Achmed," Tristan said.  "He came to us about a
month ago, hoping to begin training to become an Enforcer.
He does not listen or follow orders, though.  I will not
give him a favorable recommendation."

"I will kill him," LaCroix said coldly.

Natalie blanched.  She knew she would feel safer once he was
no longer a threat, but she still could not accept vampire
justice.  "No, LaCroix.  There has to be another way!"

"Actually," Tristan said slowly.  "Natalie was never his
target in the first place.  He wanted to hurt you, LaCroix.
I don't know what you did to offend him, but he came to us
demanding Nick's death."

"No!"  LaCroix gasped, barely audibly.

Silence filled the cottage.  No one breathed, not even
Natalie.  The stress of the past week spent searching for
her, slowly coming to accept that she was dead, then
discovering she was alive, they had no strength left.  Poor
Nick!  If a crazed vampire had come after him, what hope was
there?  He was blind, and Vachon was not strong enough to
fight alone.  LaCroix staggered, losing his balance.
Caspian caught him.

"Let us go to him, Lucius," he said quietly.

Nat glanced out the curtained windows.  She knew it was very
late.  They wouldn't get far before the sun forced them to
seek shelter.

A phone rang, shattering the deadly quiet.

It rang again.  The vampires looked around, wondering whose
phone and who could be calling.  A third and then a fourth
ring sounded, until Nat realized the sound was coming from
LaCroix's pocket.  "Lucien!  Answer the damn phone!"

Zombie-like, LaCroix withdrew a small cellphone from his
pocket and put it to his ear.  "Yes," he said slowly.

"Father?  Are you alright?"

"Nicholas!" LaCroix exclaimed.

"Yes, I know you didn't want to be disturbed, but I felt
such strong emotions from you tonight.  I had to call.  Is
anything the matter?"

Natalie was laughing and hugging Tracy.  Janette lunged into
Amaru's arms, and even Caspian drew Trevor in for an
affectionate squeeze.  They smiled happily as LaCroix took
the cellphone into another room for privacy.

"I was concerned for you, my son.  Are you all right?"

Nick laughed.  "I am now.  I mailed you a letter, but I'm
sure you couldn't have received it yet."

LaCroix smiled.  He had two letters to look forward to, and
this nightmarish week to forget.

"Joe dropped by," Nick said.  "I think he's still mad at
you.  But we came to an agreement, and I don't think he'll
be bugging me again."

LaCroix heaved an audible sigh.  "That is good news,
Nicholas."

His son sounded sleepy.  It was so good to hear his voice,
though.  He missed him terribly.  Four weeks were gone.
Only two more and he would be coming home again.  "How is
school going?" he asked.

"Fine."  He yawned.

LaCroix didn't want to let him go just yet.  It was selfish
of him, but he had to hear his voice just a little longer.

"I'm getting pretty good at reading Braille. The computers
are fun to use, too.  In some ways, I think I can search for
information faster, because I don't get distracted by
interesting graphics, but the voice function slows it down.
Amaru and Vachon have both visited me, and I settled things
with Serena."

"That's very good, Nicholas.  I am happy for you."  LaCroix
wanted to say more, but his wits failed him.  He couldn't
help smiling stupidly, and hoped that his child would sense
what he could not say.

"Are you okay now?"  Nick sounded worried.

"Everything is fine, Nicholas.  You are fine, Natalie is
doing fine, and Tracy and I are surviving each other's
company just fine."  He cringed at the less that poetic
speech.

"Hm," Nick said slowly.  LaCroix could almost see him,
stretched out on his bed, his eyes closed, and his carouche
at his side.  "Glad to hear it," he murmured.

"Sleep well," LaCroix said.  "Good night, my child."

"'night."

The line was disconnected.  LaCroix kissed the cellphone
before placing it back in his pocket.  Nice little piece of
technology, he decided.  He would make sure that everyone he
cared about owned one, with extra batteries as well.

There was much to discuss with the others.  He had to thank
Tristan for his service and ensure that they parted on good
terms.  He was not afraid of the young Enforcer, but it
never hurt to have friends in high places.  He had to
comfort Tracy, and there were a few things he wanted to tell
Natalie as well.  And some how the Inca was involved... he
wondered if it was time to initiate him as he had Vachon.
But for now, the sun was rising, the problems were over.  He
was exhausted.

Natalie knocked lightly on the door, then peered inside.
"Lucien?"

He gave her a weary smile.  "Come in, Natalie."

"I'm sorry that you were worried about me.  I didn't think
you would even know I was in danger." She wrapped her arms
around his waist.  With the fingers of one hand, she slipped
between the waistband of his trousers to touch bare skin.

LaCroix drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.  It
hurt too much to love others, he chided himself, angry that
he had let them get this close.

"So Nick called.  Is everything okay?"

LaCroix could only nod his head.  Why had speech deserted
him this night?

Natalie released him and poked her head back into the hall.
"Nick's okay, we're worn out, everybody just go to bed," she
said firmly.

LaCroix heard Caspian chuckle again and make some
disparaging comments about bossy female mortals.

"Tristan, how do you like your back rubbed?" he heard Tracy
ask.

Natalie shut the door and grinned at him.  "What about you,
Lucien?  I believe I owe you a back rub... shall we get
naked?"

**Author's Note:  I forgot to thank Portia, in the first
section, for her title suggestion!  Thanks, Portia!  I was
running out of "dances"!


Dancing in the Dark
By Lorelei Sieja



Eighteen:

Nick sensed the excitement as soon as he fully awoke.  Since
it was his last night, he assumed that there would be some
sort of party in his honor.  He groaned.  "What do you
think, Perry?  Will there be noxious punch and chocolate
cake at this one?"

"Woof," Perry agreed.

"I guess I can behave for one more night.  It will sure be
good to get home, though."  He showered and shaved for the
occasion, although he had worn the beard stubble for much of
his stay.

Perry joined him in the shower for a change, permitting Nick
to shampoo his coat until it was sleek and squeaky clean.
He gave a good shake, nearly soaking the bathroom when it
was over.  Then he had to be extra careful that his charge
did not slip on the wet floors.  Also, he didn't mind being
wet so much, but licking his coat dry was nasty.  Water
hadn't tasted good to him in years.

Nick packed his bags and tidied the room.  He preferred
using a good housekeeper, but certain things like empty
blood bottles just could not be left lying around.  He found
the most recent letters and tucked them in an outside
pocket.  He'd had quiet a few, actually.

Natalie had sent six postcards from Hawaii.  It seemed
rather foolish, as he'd been unable to appreciate the lush
pictures, but Vachon had described them to him carefully.
Apparently, some one named Tristan had bought her a cruise
of the islands, after her first Bahamian cruise ended.  It
sounded like she was having a wonderful time.  Nick smiled,
he knew she'd been moody and overworked lately.  He hoped
she found the answers she was seeking.

Tracy had written to him twice, amusing little stories, in
Braille, in Spanish.  She had joined the migrant workers for
a wedding banquette one night, where the wine flowed like
rivers and the songs and dances had stretched until dawn.

LaCroix wrote to him constantly.  The ancient had been more
expressive in print than he had ever managed in person.  The
letters were profoundly personal, and Nick would treasure
them forever.

Urs wrote only once.  She apologized, but said she'd never
been much of a writer and didn't know what to say.  Then she
had filled several pages as she told him about her business
and some of her customers, about the Raven, and how Caspian
was managing.  She even mentioned how Trevor had developed a
crush on Janette, but she hardly noticed he was even there.
Nick smiled, feeling great sympathy for the young vampire.

Janette had not written at all.  Nick could sense her now,
more clearly than ever before.  Perhaps it was because she
was now his child, or because he could sense everyone
better.  But, she seemed forlorn and unhappy.  Finally, he
had called her.  They sat up for hours, talking long
distance.  Nick could almost forget the years that had kept
them apart.  He could envision her clearly, her seductive
little pout, her elegant manners and soft, feminine ways.
He remembered the way she always smelled, a musky scent of
passion, a heady perfume that left his senses reeling. When
finally the call had ended, Nick had fallen asleep for the
best rest he'd had in weeks.

Finally, Nick zipped the last bag closed.  "Come along,
boy," he called. He set the bags by the front door, then
followed the sounds to the parlor where the entire household
waited for him.

Several children latched onto his legs, already tearful.
"Don't go!" they pleaded.

The caretaker admonished them.  "Children, this is a happy
occasion.  Nicholas has mastered the skills he will need to
return to his life in Toronto.  We are here to celebrate
with him."

Like all mortal occasions, Nick was handed a glass of punch
and a piece of cake.  He was polite, and later managed to
pass the cake to one of the kids to devour.  The caregivers
were formal.  They seemed uncomfortable around him, but Aunt
Mary was effusive.

"We've never taken on an adult student before," she
confessed.

Nick nearly dropped his punch.  "No?"

"No.  I started caring for children when I was forced to
retire from teaching," she said, settling in for a long
story.  "I got interested in fostering disabled children,
and then, most of the children I got were blind.  I poured
all of my retirement funds into caring for blind orphans and
foster kids, the children no one else seemed to want.  When
I got too old to handle them on my own, I hired a couple to
act as primary caregivers, and I became more of a foster
grandparent."

Something was very puzzling about this.  "But, I applied to
the National Institutes of the Blind.  Aren't you associated
with them?"

"No.  I get my funding from child welfare.  And not enough
of it, either.  About three months ago, a nice-looking black
man came and offered me a large sum of money if I would
accept one student for the summer.  It was a ridiculous
amount, enough to repair the roof and pay the gardener.  So,
I accepted his offer."

Nick squirmed uncomfortably.  This wasn't even a blind
school?  Someone had manipulated him to be here?  But it
didn't seem like LaCroix's game.  Who else?  "Do you
remember his name?" he asked quietly.

"It was foreign sounding. Zayr's, or something," she said.

Nick nodded.  Zuhayr, the ancient from the council.  Nick
wasn't sure how he felt about being manipulated.  The summer
experience had turned out well.  Colette was a great
teacher, and Nick had learned all he had hoped for.  But why
had the ancient brought him here, away from LaCroix and the
security of his home, except maybe to provide some sick
amusement?  Perhaps, it didn't matter.

"Play for us?" some of kids begged.

Nick settled on the piano bench, grateful that no one would
be able to pass him any more food.  He played a slew of
children's songs, from "The Sausage Making Machine" to
"Freddie Wilson's Cat."  The children sang along, clapping
their hands and shrieking happily.

Much later, Vachon knocked at the door.  He had come with a
cab to bring Nick back to the harbor.  Nick hugged each of
the kids, and Aunt Mary, and shook hands with the
caregivers.  He made a mental note to ask the Brabant
Foundation to look into this home and others like it, to see
if they needed anything.

"Thanks, Colette," he said, hugging her last.  "I know I
wasn't an easy student.  Thanks for putting up with me."

She laughed effusively.  "You are a master of
understatement, Nick.  But you're welcome.  Take care, now!"

The cab ride was far different from the one he'd taken six
weeks ago when he'd first arrived.  He felt strong,
contented, and ready to go home.  His stomach wasn't at war
with him either.

"Vachon," he asked, as they set the sails.  "I don't think
I'll go back to work right away.  I want to take a trip,
just for fun, before I get back into the grind.  Want to
sail down Lake Michigan with me and tour Chicago first?"

Vachon whooped.  "Would I!  That'd be great!  When?"

"I imagine LaCroix's going to want to see me for a few days
first.  But maybe we can get away by next Sunday?"

"That's a date," Vachon said eagerly.  "But, maybe we should
invite the girls?"

Nick stroked his chin as if considering it gravely.  "You
miss the baby?" he asked.  "I guess I could put up with
her.  Fine.  We'll ask the girls.  I can't wait, either.
He'd begun his career in law enforcement in Chicago some
time ago, and he'd returned there again recently, just
before beginning his current life in Toronto.  There was a
quaint little sports bar he remembered with fondness, and a
strange old man named Lucius Snow.

Perry had listened to the conversation with growing dread
and wondered if they could slip some Dramamine into his
blood.



The end.


(* Parajó: little bird)


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