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THE OTHER SIDE OF EVIL 
A Forever Knight Story 
by Christine Elaine Hantzopulos Hunt 
 or  
 
(Inspired by the end of "Partners", but I promise a very 
different story from "Consequences"....) 
 
     LaCroix had sensed their rapture, heard their soft 
whispers, long before he'd stolen a glance inside 
Janette's private room. And as he saw them now, oblivious 
to his presence as they lay entwined together beneath the 
satin sheets in the aftermath of their lovemaking, he 
knew. 
     Nicholas was closer to being theirs again than he had 
been in a century. 
     Had Janette worked her magic on him? Or had Nicholas' 
many disappointments in the recent past led him to abandon 
his quest for humanity? When the mortality drug had failed 
him, he had lost so much hope, LaCroix knew. And while it 
had given him satisfaction to see Nicholas accept defeat, 
it had pained him as well. For the anguish of his childe 
was as his own. 
     He was disappointed in Nicholas, and had been for a 
long time. But he still loved him, as a father loves a son 
who has strayed. 
     Perhaps that was why, in the end, he had let Nicholas 
believe that he had deceived him--that he didn't love this 
mortal woman, his Natalie. LaCroix had known the truth; he 
had felt Nicholas' love, his fear for her life. And in the 
end, LaCroix's own grief for his long lost One had 
softened him with a compassion he dared not show. He had 
allowed Natalie to live, had spared Nicholas the anguish 
that he himself had known for eight hundred years. He knew 
in his heart that Nicholas had never intended to bring her 
across. He would have killed her to preserve her purity, 
to spare her from what he considered eternal damnation. 
And her death, though promised long ago in a vow Nicholas 
had never expected to keep, would have given LaCroix 
nothing--no release from his own desolation, no sense of 
retribution. And Nicholas, his friend, his brother, his 
childe, would have been lost to him forever. 
     He thought of her now, the young woman who had 
captured Nicholas' heart. LaCroix could not deny that he 
had been enchanted with her. Her beauty, her intelligence, 
her courage to face him unafraid, though clearly she had 
known all about him.... He could see easily how Nicholas 
had been totally enthralled by her. And though he would 
never admit it to anyone, despised even admitting it to 
himself, LaCroix had been thoroughly captivated by her. 
     Perhaps this was another reason he had let her go. 
     Seeing the scene before him now, and remembering the 
intensity of Natalie Lambert's love for Nicholas, he 
almost felt sorry for her. What a waste of a pitifully 
short mortal existence to cling to the hope of a life with 
an immortal who could never truly be hers. If only she 
could see how rapidly Nicholas was slipping through her 
fingers.... 
     On the other hand, he knew that Nicholas still loved 
her. That his descent into his past life was an act of 
frustration, of desperation. Natalie's words, her touch, 
could easily lift him back up into the world of the 
living.... 
     He was on a precipice, precariously balanced, falling 
into the pit of darkness. Janette had grasped for him, was 
drawing him in. And Natalie was probably the only lifeline 
that could save him. 
     But were she to know of his betrayal--would she want 
to? 
     Yes, Nicholas was falling. And LaCroix would see to 
it that the fragile tether which connected him to the 
mortal world were cut once and for all. 
     Yes, a little honesty, a simple revelation,  would do 
both Nicholas and Natalie a world of good.... 
 
(With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe for the corruption of 
his poem; dedicated to all the Nat-Packers who thought Nat 
cried too much in "Consequences"--is this better?) 
 
     Natalie resisted the urge to slam down the phone in 
frustration as the recording told her for the umpteenth 
time that the cellular phone she was trying to reach was 
not in service. She glanced at her watch--nearly five a.m. 
"Nick, where the hell are you?" she mumbled as Sydney 
jumped onto the table to grab her attention. She patted 
him absently between the eyes, as she debated what to do 
next. 
     It had been almost two days since she'd heard from 
Nick. And since rarely a day passed when he didn't call to 
check in, she'd really begun to worry. She'd checked his 
apartment, waiting there all night for him to return. His 
car had been in the garage, but Nick had been nowhere to 
be found. And as the first rays of sunlight had peeked 
through the open windows in the loft, her panic had begun 
to set in. 
     There was no answer on his cell phone. Schanke had 
not heard from him since the day before. And Janette had 
not returned her call.... 
     She nearly jumped as the phone rang. "Hello?" she 
answered anxiously, praying it would be him. 
     A deep, seductive voice responded. "You're looking 
for Nicholas, aren't you?" 
     Fear gripped her. That voice. That same voice that 
had been so polite, so soothing, yet filled with a greater 
evil than she had ever encountered. 
     LaCroix. 
     "Where is he? Do you know?" She fought to keep her 
voice steady. 
     "He's in danger. And only you can save him." 
     Her heart was pounding. She could scarcely breathe. 
"What kind of danger?" 
     "In danger of losing his soul." 
     "Where is he?" she demanded. 
     "The Nightcrawler knows...." 
     A click. Natalie dropped the phone, reaching for the 
radio, tuning in to CERK. The same voice, in its smooth 
sensuous tones, sending a chill through her spine. 
     "Are you looking for you lover? Have thoughts of him 
haunted your soul, your desire for him driving you insane 
with your own unfulfilled passion? Do you wake up at 
night, after erotic dreams that are nothing more than 
fantasies, and reach out to find that he isn't there? That 
he never will be there? Well, where is your lover tonight? 
     "Once upon a midnight dreary, as you pondered weak 
and weary; doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared 
to dream before; while you nodded, nearly napping, your 
immortal love was tapping, elsewhere he was gently 
rapping, rapping on *her* chamber door...seeking comfort, 
nothing more..." 
     Natalie's heart froze as LaCroix's witty tongue 
corrupted Poe's poem for his own perverse purposes. *The 
Raven*. But what danger....? 
     "There she took him still beguiling, all his sad soul 
into smiling; to sate the same immortal thirst as she had 
before; Dreaming dreams immortals feed on, while helpless 
mortals they all lead on; seductive eyes and promises as 
evil as our ancient lore; And as you longed for his deadly 
kiss, his soul fell into the abyss; To be your lover-- 
nevermore. Quoth the Nightcrawler--'nevermore'." 
     A malevolent laugh erupted from LaCroix, as if he 
were impressed by his own cleverness. But Natalie didn't 
hear him. She was already out the door. 
 
     She'd expected to find him at a table, drinking human 
blood with the same reckless abandon as he had when Monica 
Howard had betrayed him. And Janette...was she encouraging 
him in this? The last time she'd called Schanke and 
Natalie, knowing that Nick had been doing something 
against his nature, something he would later regret. 
Janette had seemed to accept Nick's choice, although 
grudgingly. Yet LaCroix's poem.... 
     Nick was nowhere to be found. But neither was 
Janette. Natalie found Miklos, talking to the young dark- 
skinned waitress whose nature Natalie wasn't quite sure 
of. "I'm looking for Nick," she told Miklos. "I know he's 
here. LaCroix told me--" 
     Miklos and the woman exchanged a glance. Clearly the 
mention of the ancient vampire's name had taken them both 
by surprise. 
     "He's with Janette. But they weren't to be 
disturbed." 
     Natalie's face turned crimson. Without another word 
she headed towards the back rooms. The young woman called 
out to her, but Miklos held her back. "No. If LaCroix sent 
her, there has to be a reason--" 
     Her heart was pounding. The words of LaCroix's verse 
seemed to make sense in a way she didn't want to believe. 
But she had to know. And the fear that he was in some kind 
of danger still nagged at her. She couldn't leave until 
she knew that he was all right. Even if.... 
     Janette's private room. The door was ajar. Noise 
inside. Voices. Laughter. She reached out to push the door 
open.... 
     And her knees grew weak, as her heart rose to her 
throat. Nick and Janette in bed together, naked beneath 
the covers, he on top of her with his mouth at her 
neck.... 
     Suddenly, he looked up at her, as he sensed her 
presence. His amber eyes opened wide, his lips parted as 
Janette's blood dripped from his fangs. "Nat," he 
whispered, as his eyes turned blue, filling with shame. 
     Janette simply smiled at her, her teeth still 
extended, Nick's blood fresh on her lips. 
     Natalie turned and ran. 
 
     "Let her go, Nicolas," Janette said softly, trying to 
pull him back onto the bed. 
     But Nick ignored her as he threw on his clothes, 
following Natalie out into the club. 
 
     He caught her by the door as she was about to leave. 
"Natalie! Wait!" he cried, grabbing her arm. 
     She swung around to face him, her eyes filled with 
rage. "Don't touch me!" she said, pulling away from him. 
     "Nat, please, let me explain!" 
     "Explain what? Why you've gone back to sharing blood 
when you vowed to stay away from it? Or why you were 
making love to Janette after telling me that you loved 
me?" 
     Nick stared at her dumbfounded. 
     "Yes, Nick, I know. I know, and I remember 
everything. But even if I hadn't, *you* did. Or did you 
think that by washing my memory you could pretend it never 
happened?" 
     "Natalie, believe me. I didn't mean for this to 
happen. Please, we need to talk--" 
     "I'm through talking to you--I'm through trying to 
help you--" 
     He grasped her hands, desperation on his face and in 
his voice, as he begged, "Natalie, please--" 
     Again, she pulled away, the fire in her eyes refusing 
to let the tears surface. No tears. Not just now. Not in 
front of him. Her voice was deliberately steady as she 
said, "You've made your choices, Nick. And it's about time 
I made some of my own. And right now, I choose not to have 
anything to do with you." 
     He just looked at her, speechless, as if she had 
kicked him in the stomach. 
     Natalie turned and ran into the rising sun, knowing 
he could not follow. For if he did, she might not have the 
strength to pull away again. And she had to. For herself. 
For her sanity. 
     It was the first time she'd put herself before him in 
a long time. 
 
     Nick sat alone at a table, contemplating the cow's blood 
before him. Filled nearly to the rim, it was the glass that 
Miklos had poured him when he'd collapsed into his seat after 
Natalie's angry departure. The Club's patrons, both human and 
vampire, had long since stolen away to sleep off the night's 
revels. And Nick was utterly alone, more so than he'd been in 
centuries.  
     Natalie was gone. And never had he felt his limitations more 
so than today. He'd wanted to follow her, to talk to her, to beg 
for her forgiveness, to explain to her... 
     Yet what would he explain? What could he possibly say to 
justify this utter betrayal? He himself couldn't fathom at this 
moment what had possessed him to find comfort in Janette's arms, 
in Janette's blood... 
     Janette. He couldn't face her.  He'd sought to sever the 
bond between them, and he had instead fortified it. The blood 
that had passed between them had brought back a surge of 
memories, of emotions, of passions he'd thought long dead. And 
this new closeness with her, this connection that allowed him to feel her 
very presence as she rested in her chambers, held nothing of the 
excitement that it had in the past. 
     On the contrary: it unnerved him. It reminded him of his 
fall, threatening at any moment to lure him back into the world he'd 
sought so desperately to escape. 
     He hadn't wanted this. And he didn't want it now. But it 
nagged at him, called him, just as the blood that had beckoned 
him patiently, that continued to beckon him as he fought to resist 
it.... 
     He pushed the glass away quickly, standing nervously from 
the table. How long had it been? How long until he could escape, find 
his way back to the safety of his loft, the dark shades that 
guarded him from the world, the protein drinks, those gloriously 
disgusting protein drinks that Natalie had made him with such 
care..., 
     Natalie. He pulled out his cellular phone. He had to try 
again, although he'd left a dozen messages on her machine in the 
last two hours. It rang and he held his breath. 
     The recording. He let out a sigh as he waited for the beep. 
"Nat, it's me. Please. Please pick up." He could hear the 
weariness in his own voice, the quiet desperation. "Natalie, just let me 
know you're okay." A beat. Then, in words choked with emotion, he 
whispered, "Natalie...I love you." 
     There was no response, and he hung up. There was nothing 
more to say. 
     Suddenly he tensed, feeling her before she even came up 
behind him. "Nicolas," she said tenderly in his ear, as she 
wrapped her arms around him from the back, "give it up. You're 
making a fool of yourself over this woman." 
     He pulled away from her uncomfortably, finding it was easier 
to look into her eyes than be so close to her. The thirst for her 
blood still lingered....Where was his control? 
     "Nicolas, I know you cared about her...but isn't it better 
this way? Better for her? This is a new beginning for us--" 
     He shook his head slowly, wishing that she would allow 
herself to see what was so painfully obvious. "No, Janette. I 
came here to end it. To resolve what had happened between us. To 
show you that I finally understood why you left--that it was time 
for both of us to move on...." 
     "But that's not what happened, is it?" she reminded him 
playfully, raising her hand to his cheek. 
     "It's what should have happened." 
     She shook her head. "I told you long ago that one day we 
would see each other and fall in love again--" 
     "Janette," he said gently, putting his hand over hers. His 
face was creased with his own pain. He didn't want to hurt her, 
but knew that he would. And he hated himself for his own lack of 
self-control that had brought them to this. 
     "Nicolas, you can't fight any more what you are. I felt your 
desire for me...for my blood..." 
     "Then you also felt me guilt...my regret. Janette, I will 
never completely lose my love for you, nor the passion between 
us.  It runs too deep. But it's not what I want anymore. You felt 
it in my blood." He paused, not wanting to say it, but knowing he 
must. "You felt my love for her. You had to." 
     She withdrew her hand from him, as her expression suddenly 
hardened, and he knew that his blood had indeed told her that 
which she was unwilling to admit. Only the centuries that they 
had been together allowed him to see the almost imperceptible 
pain in her eyes, a pain she was too proud to let show. "Nick, 
she is mortal," she said evenly. "She will die. You can't share 
an eternity with her." 
     Her words stung him, though the reality had hung over him 
like an ominous cloud since he'd first realized that he was in 
love with Natalie. He didn't want to think about losing her. "A 
lifetime is all I want," he replied steadily. 
     "A mortal lifetime is a short thing, Nicolas," she reminded 
him coldly. She stepped away from him as she added bitterly, "But 
I suppose you'll say that a lifetime with her would be worth an 
eternity, eh?" 
     He didn't respond, though her sarcastic words had rung true. 
     "You're a romantic fool," she spat at him. "And I am perhaps 
a bigger fool for believing that we could ever recapture what we 
once had--when you were happy with what you are, when you reveled 
in it. Does your little mortal friend know about that side of 
you?" 
     He wanted to say that she did. And he knew that 
instinctively Natalie probably presumed much of the evil he was 
too ashamed to relate to her. 
     "And you'll never be able to share that with her," Janette 
told him, as if reading his thoughts. "Could she even bear to 
look at you if she knew all the evil you've been capable of over 
the last eight hundred years? Could she ever understand and 
accept you as I do?" 
     Nick didn't want her to see how much her words had shaken 
him.  But she knew him too well, and in her own hurt she'd known 
exactly where to strike back. He hadn't confided all in Natalie. 
He'd been afraid to shock her, to horrify her...to push her away. 
And that fear of betraying his worst self to her was precisely 
what had driven him to Janette so many times in the recent past. 
     "Does she know about the Brabant foundation and how you 
acquired that money? Does she know about how you murdered 
Sylvaine, the woman you claimed to love?" she posed cruelly. 
     He didn't reply. But she read his silent rage. 
     "I didn't think so." She turned as if to go, but then looked 
back at him. "Do you think she'll ever forgive you for betraying 
her?" 
     "I don't know, Janette," he replied with venom equal to her 
own. "But she is the most remarkable woman I have ever known, and 
if I'm lucky, she will." 
     Janette's eyes flared with her anger. "You'll never change, 
will you Nicolas?" she said with contempt. 
     And she was gone. 
     He stood for a long moment staring at the spot she had 
occupied; then, heaving a deep sigh, he settled back into the 
chair to wait. Once more, the blood called him. He reached for 
it, then clenched his hand into a fist as he pulled it away. 
     No. His weakness had brought this upon them all. He wouldn't 
fall prey to it again. 
 
     "Natalie...I love you..." 
     She could hear the anguish in his voice, and she 
wanted more than anything to pick up the phone. She'd lain 
on the bed for hours it seemed, too shaken to move. 
Everything she'd believed about him, everything she'd 
thought he felt for her, was a lie. And the trauma of what 
she had seen had finally begun to set in, replacing the 
initial rage. Yet still, the tears would not come. It was 
much too much like a nightmare from which she'd awaken. 
Could that really have been Nick, delighting in Janette's 
blood, enveloped in her intimate embrace? Not the Nick she 
knew. Or thought she'd known. Not the man who'd professed 
his love for her, dreaming dreams with her of a future 
they might someday share. 
     Perhaps it was that night in her apartment that had 
been the dream. The illusion. She'd relived those precious 
moments so many times in her mind, finding strength in the 
memories, the will to go on no matter how difficult things 
had seemed. Now, the image of Nick with Janette swam 
before her each time she closed her eyes, until she 
finally gave up on trying to sleep, staring ahead instead, 
at nothing at all, wishing she could see him before her 
again as he'd been on Valentine's Day... 
     And each time the phone rang, her heart quickened to 
hear his voice. He sounded so desperate, so sincere.... 
     But she couldn't bring herself to move. And she 
prayed that if she lay there long enough, she'd fall 
victim to pure exhaustion, and she could escape in 
sleep.... 
     And still, the tears wouldn't come. It was all just 
too unreal. 
     But then again, so had been her life since the day 
she'd met him. 
 
     He looked at his watch, knowing that the last few 
minutes would be interminable. He'd spent the day here, 
dozing at times with his head on the table, though in his 
dreams he just relived the horror of what had happened. 
Janette had left him alone, and for that he was grateful. 
Alone to think, to plan, to rehearse in his mind what he 
would say to Natalie. 
     He'd come up with nothing. 
     There was just too much ground to cover. Janette was 
the tip of the iceberg. *She knows what happened with 
LaCroix* he kept thinking to himself. *She knows I tried 
to make her forget.* And knowing that she recalled all 
that had transpired in Azure filled him with a fear that 
he would lose her forever. The cruel lies he had spoken, 
disclaiming his love for her, must have hurt her so....it 
was something he had wanted to spare her. Why hadn't she 
let on that she remembered? What must she think now after 
seeing him with Janette? His heart ached to think of the 
pain he'd brought her. To love her some much and to have 
caused her so much anguish.... 
     His body tensed as his inner clock told him the sun 
was slipping below the horizon. It didn't matter whether 
he knew what to say to her or not. He had to see her, 
touch her.... 
     With vampiric speed he left the Raven, flying off 
into the a blood-red sky.... 
 
     The room grew dark with the setting sun. Natalie lay 
unmoving, knowing that it would only be a matter of 
moments.... 
     The doorbell. She picked herself up off the bed as if 
automatically, knowing that she could not avoid this. She 
glanced in the mirror, stopping a moment to put on fresh 
lipstick and eye liner. She couldn't let him see how awful 
she was feeling. Let the makeup disguise it.... 
     She took a deep breath before answering the door. She 
knew what seeing him would do to her, what it always did 
to her. He'd smile that smile of his that made her heart 
quicken... or look at her with those ageless eyes that 
reached into her soul. She couldn't weaken. She couldn't 
forgive him. Not this. She had to hold on to the anger, 
let it envelop her, protect her from being hurt again. 
     But as she opened the door, her carefully prepared 
shield threatened to give way. He looked awful, as if he 
hadn't slept. And his eyes were filled with such 
sorrow.... She could almost believe that he cared.... 
     He sighed with relief as he saw her. "Thank God 
you're okay. I was so worried." He didn't seem to need an 
explanation for her not having answered the phone. Knowing 
she was all right was enough. "Nat, can I come in? 
Please?" 
     She studied him a moment. He wouldn't force her, she 
knew. But he would persist until everything was said. 
     Perhaps there were things *she* needed to say, too. 
She nodded silently, stepping aside for him. 
     "Natalie, we...we need to talk." He reached out to 
put his hands on her arms, but she backed away. She 
couldn't let him touch her. It would melt her resolve. 
     He let his hands fall to his sides, obviously 
distressed, but wanting to play by her rules, as if afraid 
that at any moment she might ask him to leave. 
     "I don't know what there is to talk about," she told 
him flatly, trying to keep the emotion from her voice. 
She sat on the couch, and he took her lead, sitting to 
face her. 
     "Natalie, I know that what I did was inexcusable--a 
terrible mistake--" 
     "Oh, is that what you call it? A *mistake*?" she 
responded, failing to suppress the bitterness. 
     "Yes," he told her, looking into her eyes, undaunted. 
"Betraying you was probably one of the worst mistakes I've 
made in eight hundred years." 
     "You flatter me," she said dryly. 
     "I'm telling you the truth, Nat." 
     She averted his eyes as she replied, "Well, you'll 
forgive me if I'm not really sure what the truth is from 
you, Nick. Maybe what you told LaCroix that night is the 
truth--that you've just been humoring me, because I know 
your secret, because I've been trying to help  you..." 
     At her words, he grasped her hands instinctively; she 
didn't know why she failed to pull away this time, but 
rather looked back into his eyes, his desperation almost 
frightening her,  as he said, "You don't really believe 
that, do you, Nat?" 
 
     "I don't know what to believe," she said dully. 
     "Nat, if you remember it all, then you know I was desperate 
to save your life. I thought he would kill you...or worse...So I 
lied to him, Nat. I said terrible things, and tried to convince 
him by pretending I would take you..." He paused, looking down at 
her hands in his. "I wanted to spare you from the pain of 
remembering it all...and from knowing the things I had to 
say...*to do*...to convince him." He looked her in the eyes with 
shame. "I was so rough with you...so cruel...I was afraid for you 
to remember that. I thought it would push you away." 
     She shook her head slowly. "Until tonight, I knew--or 
thought I knew--that you were lying to him. But now--" She closed 
her eyes.  "Nick, I don't know what to believe anymore--" 
     "Natalie, I love you. Believe that." 
     "I did," she said simply.  She could feel the tears rising 
up into her throat, and she swallowed them back as she said, "But 
not anymore, Nick. Janette's the one you...love, or need...I 
don't know. But it seemed pretty clear--" 
     "Nat, listen to me. A long time ago, I did love her. And she 
hurt me. And I never really forgave her for that, never accepted 
what had happened. But with everything going on between Schanke 
and Myra...finally, I understood it all.  All the resentment I'd 
kept inside me, all the hurt--I realized it was gone. I had moved 
on with my life. And I just went to the Raven to give her back a 
painting that DaVinci had done of her, one that I'd kept all 
these years out of anger, out of spite. I wanted to close the 
book on my relationship with her once and for all--" 
     "So that's how you ended it? By sharing her blood... by..." 
she paused, her voice choked with emotion as she finished, "...by 
making love to her?" 
     "I can't explain how it came to that," he told her. "I'm not 
even sure myself. All I know is that a lot of things have 
happened lately... things that made me lose hope...in becoming 
human, in being able to share a life with you--" 
     "Well, if you'd given up on us, it would have been nice to 
tell me about it," she told him. 
     "I never gave up, Nat," he said tenderly, squeezing her 
hand, "and I never will. I just got frustrated. Do you realize 
how close I came to having everything I ever wanted--only to have 
it all slip through my fingers? First the mortality drug--and 
then, just as I began to have some hope that you and I could 
finally find a way to share a life together--LaCroix destroyed it 
all. " He paused, the horror of it still living with him as he 
said, "I nearly lost you, Nat. I couldn't handle that. I couldn't 
stand knowing that you'd nearly died because of me. And I was 
terrified of getting too close to you, that he might realize that 
I'd lied to him, and come after you again..." 
     "So you turned to Janette?" The irony of it enraged her.  
"Why?  Because it was easier? Because you could be with her 
without worrying about killing her, or LaCroix taking his 
revenge?" 
     "It's not that simple, Nat--" 
     "Sure it is. It was pure selfishness, Nick. You wanted the 
easy way out. Why struggle to eat food, when you can drink blood? 
And why suffer through the frustration of a relationship with me, 
when Janette can fill all your needs that I can't?" 
     "Natalie...Don't do this..." he implored. 
     But she couldn't stop. She'd begun, and now she had to let 
him know all that she had suffered because of him. "Did you ever 
stop to think about me, Nick? Did you ever think that maybe I was 
frustrated? And scared? We could have shared that, Nick.  We 
could have gotten through it together. How do you think it's been 
for me?  Wanting you, wanting to be with you, being patient, and 
faithful, and believing in you, believing that you wanted to 
become mortal, that you wanted a life with me...that you *loved* 
me...and getting virtually nothing in return from you, as if that 
night in this apartment had never happened!" 
     "Natalie," he said softly, his voice hoarse with emotion. 
"The night we admitted how we felt...the night we kissed, and 
held each other...was the first real happiness I've had in 
centuries..." 
     Her face was hot with rage. Yet the memories that he evoked 
with his words threatened to make her fall apart. "Don't..." she 
told him. "Don't even try. If that were so, then why go back to 
her, Nick? All this time I thought there was something growing 
between us..."..." 
     "Nat, I swear to you. This was the first time. The first 
time in four hundred years." 
     "It doesn't matter!" she cried, too distraught to 
particularly care right know if he saw. "Even before this, don't 
you think I know how often you've gone to her, sharing things 
with her that you wouldn't with me?" 
     "Janette knows the things I've done. It's easier sometimes 
to talk to her--" He stopped mid-sentence, as if realizing he was 
only exacerbating her feelings of insecurity as far as his 
relationship with Janette was concerned. 
     She merely replied, "There was a time when I thought you 
trusted *me*...when you confided in me..." 
     "I do, Nat. I do. But don't you see that there are some 
things I'm afraid to tell you?" 
     "Oh, and did you think I was so naive, Nick? That I thought 
you were a reluctant, repentant vampire since Day One? I know 
what you were. I know the things you've done, even if you haven't 
told me everything--" 
     "I didn't want to frighten you away. I thought            
that if you knew all the evil I'd been capable of, that it would 
push you away--" 
     "Nothing you could have told me about your past could have 
made me stop loving you. It was all in the past. But this--" 
     She felt the tears  welling in her eyes, and wondered how 
she'd been able to suppress them for so long. She stood quickly, 
turning away, not wanting to face him... But as he came up behind her, 
pressing his body against hers, wrapping his arms around her, 
resting his chin against her shoulder, his cheek against hers, 
she feared she'd break down completely. 
     "Nat, I don't expect you to forgive me right away--to trust 
me again so easily. But in time, maybe you could--" 
     "I'm not eternal like you are, Nick," she whispered, closing 
her eyes, willing herself to resist what his closeness was doing 
to her. "My time is running out. And I've wasted too much of it 
already trusting you." 
     "What are you saying, Nat?" he asked softly in her ear, an 
edge of panic in his tone. 
     She turned to face him, breaking his physical and emotional 
hold on her. 
     "I'm saying that this whole relationship has been one- 
sided," she said steadily.  "That I need someone who will be 
faithful to me, and give me the emotional support I need. I need 
to feel loved, and trusted...I can't keep giving without getting 
anything in return..." 
     "Nat, I do love you--" he said passionately, taking her face 
in his hands. 
     And she wanted so desperately to trust him...to believe 
him...to fall into his arms, to drown in his kiss. But she 
couldn't.  "I don't believe you," she said with as much 
conviction as she could muster. 
     "Natalie, no..." His face was painstricken. 
     "Please, Nick," she begged, her voice choked with her tears. 
"Don't make this any harder than it is. I just can't let you do 
this to me anymore. I need to go on with my life." 
     For a long moment he gazed into her eyes, as if weighing his 
own desires against hers. And slowly, he nodded, in defeat, in 
resignation, as if he knew that he had brought this on himself, 
and owed it to her to let her go on. "I'm sorry, Nat," he said 
tenderly, the words barely audible. "I'm so sorry." And as he kissed her 
gently, she could feel his lips trembling against hers. He pulled 
slowly away, and she knew now that the tears had begun to streak 
her face. He wiped them away with his thumbs, caressing her hair as 
he looked once more into her eyes. And she knew that as he separated 
from her, she was shaking. 
     "I'll never stop loving you," he said, barely able to speak. 
"But I...I don't want...to hurt you anymore." He released her, 
backing away slowly, almost as if wishing that she would call him 
back, forgive him, grant him one more chance... 
     But she couldn't. 
     The door shut behind him. And control no longer mattered. 
The flood of tears that had built up from the moment she'd seen him 
with Janette now flowed unbidden. 
And Natalie searched her soul for the relief that she should have 
felt at having made a right decision. But if there was any 
relief, it was drowned in her grief, as the futility of her own words 
assaulted her. 
     After knowing him, loving him...could she ever really go on 
with her life? And could she ever love anyone as passionately as 
she loved him? 
 
     He heard her softly weeping as he stood outside her door. He 
wanted to go back, to take her into his arms, to comfort her.... 
     ...but he'd brought her nothing but pain. And he could bear 
to do it no more. He loved her too much. Gathering his strength, 
he pulled himself away, and flew off into the night. 
 
     Her grief had finaly lulled her into the sanctuary of sleep. 
It was only the thump of Sydney pouncing onto the bed that awoke 
her finally from her dreamless state. Reality assaulted her once 
more, with the dull ache that rose from the pit of her stomach. 
She reached for her watch, squinting in the darkness to see the 
time. 
     A shadow crossed the room. Startled, she turned to the door, 
her heart pounding as the tall figure began to take form before 
her.  And as he approached the bed, she drew in a breath. 
     "Don't be afraid, Doctor Lambert." 
     And even in the darkness, she could see the smile on 
LaCroix's pallid face.... 
 
     "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," LaCroix 
told her politely, though by the smile that played upon 
his lips, she knew that that had been precisely his 
intent. But despite what she knew of him, and the manner 
in which his charm at Azure had belied a more malevolent 
agenda, fear seemed to escape her right now. The last 
twenty-four hours had drained her completely. She was too 
weary to be afraid. And when finally her initial shock at 
his entrance subsided, it was with anger that she reacted. 
     "You knew," she accused, sitting up in bed. "You told 
me he was in danger because you knew I'd go there and find 
him with her." 
     "Yes," he said matter-of-factly, sitting on the bed 
to face her. "Oh, you don't mind, do you?" 
     "Why no, make yourself at home," she mocked him. 
     He was looking at her strangely now. "You're not 
afraid of me, are you?" he asked with seeming interest. 
     "Should I be?" she asked tiredly. She was in no mood 
for these games. 
     LaCroix seemed to consider the question for a moment 
before answering. "No. I have no desire to bring harm to 
you." 
     "You've already done enough," she dared. Her own lack 
of fear surprised her. 
     He shook his head slowly, knowingly. "No, Natalie, 
I've done nothing to you. Nicholas is the one who hurt you 
tonight." 
     She shifted uncomfortably for the first time. 
     "Oh, I understand your pain. Nicholas is as a son to 
me--and yet he has betrayed me time and again. It's my 
fault, you see. I indulged him. I spoiled him. And over 
the past eight hundred years he's come to think that the 
entire world revolves around him, and his guilt, and his 
quest. He didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sure. But he can't 
help it. He has always put his own needs above everyone 
else's. It's unfortunate that he involved you in his life. 
He's not capable of giving you what you need. Physically, 
or emotionally." 
     She didn't want to hear this; it rang too true. But 
Natalie's anger was getting lost in her fascination with 
this other side of LaCroix. Somehow, despite what she knew 
of him, he seemed almost....sincere.  She tried to dismiss 
the thought. "Look, this is really a moot point. There's 
nothing between me and Nick now. It's over. So if that 
satisfies your need for retribution--" 
     He raised an eyebrow. "You do remember everything 
that happened, then?" 
     "You found yourself a pretty potent drug there, I'll 
give you that; and mixed with the champagne, it did 
confuse me for awhile. But yes, everything's come back." 
     "And Nicholas didn't try to hypnotize you? To make 
you forget? That is his style, you know. He never quite 
learned that it's far easier to kill someone that dominate 
their mind." 
     She looked at him, almost more at ease to see the 
LaCroix she'd expected show through. But she merely 
replied, "You know he doesn't kill anymore." 
     "Yet he would have killed you," he supplied quickly. 
     "To save me from you," she said. 
     "Perhaps. But you see, in Nicholas' tortured mind he 
truly believed that you would prefer death to an existence 
such as ours." 
     "I would," she said. Yet she knew the conviction 
wasn't there, and she knew that he sensed it as well. 
     "Would you, Natalie? Would you prefer to die than to 
live forever...with Nicholas? Able to share with him all 
that you've desired...and more?" 
     He was studying her for a response. And she fought 
desperately not to react to the mere thought of it. Her 
face remained unchanged, as she said, "Another moot 
question." 
     LaCroix inclined his head slightly, almost as if 
nodding approval at the way she had won that round with 
him. 
     "Now, not to be rude, but do you think you could tell 
me why you're here?" The question had been asked quickly, 
to prevent him from taking the lead in the conversation 
again. 
     To her surprise, he stood. "To see how you were 
taking what had happened," he said. 
     "I'm taking it just fine," she assured him, though 
the bitter sarcasm tinged her words. "Now you answer a 
question for me. What was the purpose of sending me there? 
Why the elaborate plan? If you really wanted to bring an 
end to Nick's relationship with me, then why not just kill 
me?" 
     It was his turn to be surprised. "I bear no ill will 
towards you, Natalie. In fact, I find you to be rather 
interesting. Killing you would have been pointless." 
     "I thought you found mortals insignificant. If you 
can admit that any murder could be 'pointless', then 
you're admitting to a respect for human life." 
     "And you didn't think me capable of that?" he asked. 
     She shook her head. "Your reputation does precede 
you." 
     "But perhaps my reputation is an invention of 
Nicholas' mind. Everything you've heard of me has been 
colored by his perceptions. Perhaps if you got to know me, 
you would find that everything you've heard has been 
extremely one-sided." 
     "Maybe," she replied, smiling slightly at him. He was 
interesting to say the least.... 
     "We'll have to see," he said cryptically. 
     He turned to leave. 
     "Wait!" 
     He looked back to her. 
     "You still haven't told me why you told me this... 
Why you wanted me to see them together... Was it all just 
to keep me and Nick apart?" 
     He paused a moment, before saying. "No. In part it 
was," he admitted. 
     "And what else?" she pressed. 
     He looked almost uncomfortable being cornered into an 
explanation of his motivations. Yet his reaction also 
meant, she realized, that he would probably tell her the 
truth.  But when he finally spoke, it wasn't something she 
had expected. 
     "I thought you had a right to know," he said simply. 
     Moments later, the open window was the only 
indication that he'd ever been there. 
     Natalie took a deep breath, falling back against her 
pillows, relieved that he was gone. She ignored her first 
instinct to call Nick. Besides, if LaCroix had wanted to 
kill her, he could have. There was no point in worrying 
Nick... 
     She caught herself in the absurd thought as the dull 
ache returned to the pit of her stomach. It wouldn't be 
easy to remember that Nick was no longer a part of her 
life. But she'd have to try. It was the only way she would 
ever find peace. 
     And what of LaCroix? Just what did he want of her? 
She didn't know. But something in her gut told her that he 
was being honest when he said that he didn't mean her any 
harm. She closed her eyes, willing herself to forget about 
vampires, and other things that went bump in the night.... 
     But she slept uneasily nevertheless. 
 
     The shift had been twelve hours long. Yet still she 
worked. Exhaustion overwhelmed her, and sleep beckoned. Yet 
she would not stop. She could not. Not as long as there was 
work to be done. And as morbid luck had it, her work at the 
morgue was never done. 
     Another victim rolled in. She sighed, readjusting the 
white duck-billed cap that kept her hair from her face. 
Grace was talking to her, something about going home. 
     "Huh? Did you say something?" she asked absently, 
avoiding her friend's questioning gaze as she reached for 
the zipper on the body bag. 
     "I said I'm going. Why don't you leave it until 
morning, Natalie? You've been here almost fourteen hours." 
     "No, it's okay," she reassured her, stopping to look 
up, forcing a slight smile. "I'd rather get it done now." 
     She watched Grace as she shook her head, and left. 
     For a moment, it frightened her to think that she was 
alone. The quiet was suddenly deafening. She'd never feared 
being alone before, yet today the background noise of the 
many people on duty at the Coroner's Office had soothed her 
into a momentary sense of security. What exactly had made 
her so uneasy? And why was she so pointedly avoiding going 
home? Was it a fear that LaCroix would return to her 
apartment? 
     No. It was a fear of being left alone with her 
thoughts. Alone to think about the last two days. About 
Nick. About what he had done to her. 
About the time she had invested, no, wasted, trying to help 
him...loving him. About what she really wanted to do with 
her life now....    About Nick. He was omnipresent in her 
thoughts. And only work, only the constant need to 
concentrate on what she was doing, would keep her from 
thinking of him...from missing him. 
     She knew she couldn't work forever. But it was too soon 
to go home. She wouldn't close her eyes; she didn't want to 
allow that image to dance before her eyes again. 
     "Don't even think about it, Nat," she commanded 
herself, as she began to examine the body before her. A 
young man, probably twenty at most. The waste of life never 
seemed to horrify her. His youthful features had lost their 
brilliance in the awful pallor of his pale skin, and his 
eyes, still open, betrayed the horror of his last moments of 
life. She closed the eyes gently, wishing the medics had 
done it for her. She was too tired for this, too filled with 
her own grief and anger to see such pain. Maybe Grace had 
been right.... 
     Suddenly, her heart stopped as she saw them. She 
adjusted the young man's head, tilting it slightly so she 
could see. 
     Natalie drew in a breath as she ran a gloved finger 
over the small puncture wounds on the young victim's neck. 
     And she knew she had to call Nick. 
     She hadn't wanted to see him. She dreaded dealing with 
him. But the atrocity that had been committed tonight begged 
her to put her personal life aside. 
     She picked up the phone, her voice pointedly 
emotionless as she said, "Nick, it's me. I think you'd 
better get over here right away. There's something you 
should see." 
 
     She'd seen the hope in his eyes as he'd entered her 
office, as if he'd taken her call as a sign that she might 
be ready to talk to him again. But as she greeted him only 
with the most professional nod, she could see the 
disappointment wash over his face. And it hurt her to see 
the despair that mirrored her own. She averted his eyes as 
she motioned to the body. 
     He bent closer, though clearly the blood bothered him 
more than usual. And as he saw the small but deadly slashes, 
he raised his eyebrows. "Drained of blood?" he asked 
needlessly. 
     "Yes." She took a deep breath, voicing the question she 
wished she could avoid, knowing the answer might upset her. 
"Nick, do you know anything about this?" 
     She'd tried to be delicate, but her meaning had been 
clear. And he looked at her sharply, his eyes opening wide 
with realization. "Nat, you can't possibly think--" He 
wouldn't finish, It was inconceivable to him that she would 
think him responsible for this. 
     She met his stare boldly. "Well, you have gone back to 
drinking blood," she stated matter-of-factly. 
     "I shared vampire blood, Nat. Once," he responded 
angrily. "That doesn't mean I've gone back to killing. I 
haven't taken a life in over a hundred years." He paused, as 
if too hurt to find the right words. His voice was raw with 
emotion as he asked, "After almost three years, don't you 
know me better than that?" 
     "I thought I did," she replied emotionlessly. 
     "I see." His face had transformed into a mask of silent 
rage. "Well, I'll leave you to your work now. I have a 
killer to track. When I find something,  I'll let you know." 
     She cursed herself silently as she watched him leave. 
She *did* know him better. But her own hurt over his 
betrayal had eroded her trust in him completely, to the 
point where she had truly questioned if he might have 
returned to a vampire lifestyle, with all its ramifications. 
And as a result, she had come across as jealous, bitter.... 
     And she was, wasn't she? But she didn't want to let him 
see her this way. And no matter what he had done to her, she 
wouldn't hurt him just for the sake of vindictiveness. "I'm 
sorry, Nick," she whispered quietly. 
     But even with his preternatural hearing, he was too far 
away by now to hear her. 
 
     The blood tasted good as it passed his lips, and he 
drank with a renewed thirst that frightened him. Yet he 
could not stop, would not, until he'd emptied the bottle. He 
contemplated the empty container for a brief moment before 
reaching for the next. 
     And why not? What did it really matter now? He'd made a 
mess of the life he'd struggled to create for himself. He'd 
drunk Janette's blood, falling off the precarious precipice 
of control that he'd tried so hard to maintain. And the one 
person who had believed in him now thought him nothing more 
than a killer. Natalie had helped him keep his balance for 
so long that he truly did not believe himself capable of 
doing it without her. She had pushed him, protected him, 
guided him, supported him...loved him. And he had repaid her 
with betrayal. Could he really blame her for losing trust in 
him? He knew in his heart he could not. But her accusation 
had wounded him. And he knew now that the damage he'd caused 
to their relationship was irreparable. 
     He didn't know how he could live with that. To see her 
every day, to work with her, loving her as he did and 
knowing that even her friendship had been lost to him, was 
more than he could bear to even think about. 
     So he would take refuge in the blood. It soothed him, 
invigorated him, as nothing else could. Perhaps once he'd 
had his fill he could sleep, sleep as he hadn't since the 
night Natalie had found him with Janette.... 
     The sound of the elevator door sliding open drew him 
from his reverie. And for a moment he allowed himself to 
hope that it was she, that she had come to see him, to 
forgive him.... 
     But another presence filled his senses as he once more 
became painfully aware of their connection, strengthened 
now, made more acute with each step he took towards his 
vampirism. 
     "Janette," he said, heaving his disappointment with his 
sigh. He turned to face her wearily. 
     The anger from before was gone from her face, replaced 
by her concern as she saw him. "Nicolas, are you all right?" 
     "And why wouldn't I be?" he asked with a bitter edge to 
his voice. 
     She ignored it, clearly with a more important agenda of 
her own. 
     "Nick, we have to talk. Something's happened. And it 
could endanger us all." 
 
     Nick turned away from Janette with disinterest as he 
reached for another bottle from the refrigerator. 
     "Did you hear what I said, Nicolas? We could all be in 
great danger--" 
     "If you're talking about the body, I know about it. I 
saw it in the morgue." He held out the bottle to her. "Would 
you like some?" 
     "No," she told him, taking the bottle from him. "And I 
think you look like you've had enough yourself. Nick, your 
eyes...." 
     He'd felt them burning with the familiar amber glow, 
and she only confirmed it. He grabbed the bottle back from 
her. "How much is enough, Janette? I need this to survive, 
don't I?" 
     "That's not what you used to believe," she reminded him 
patiently. 
     He ignored her, drinking down nearly half the bottle at 
once. And as he set it down, he could feel the fangs that 
had begun to protrude. Janette was shaking her head slightly 
at him, her eyes filled with a pity that infuriated him. 
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he growled in a voice 
lower than his own. "For me to accept what I am? Revel in 
it?" 
     "But it's not what *you* want." 
     "It's what I am," he replied, raising the bottle to his 
lips. 
     "But not what you want to be, Nicolas," she said 
regretfully. She held out her hand, and this time he 
relented, handing her the bottle. She set it down, and 
reached up to touch his face. He did not pull away. 
     "I can't have what I want, Janette," he told her 
softly. The blue had returned to his eyes and he looked at 
her now with utter defeat. "To be human...to be with 
Natalie...I've lost it all." 
     "I'm sorry," she told him tenderly. 
     He put his hand over hers. "It's my fault, Janette. 
I've made a mess of my life. And now..." He paused, as if 
ashamed to say it. "She thinks I did it. She actually asked 
me if I knew anything about the murder--" 
     "Nicolas, can you blame her? She loves you. She's very 
hurt. And she doesn't know what to think, whom to trust." 
She hesitated, as if not sure how to tell him what she had 
to. "Nick, I know everything now. LaCroix told me what he 
did to you--to Natalie--on Valentine's Day." 
     She waited for his reaction. But he was growing numb 
now. He'd kept it from Janette intentionally, afraid that if 
he admitted to her his true feelings for Natalie, it would 
get back to LaCroix. But it was all moot now, wasn't it? 
     "Nick, if I had known--" 
     "Would it have a made a difference to you, Janette?" he 
asked dubiously. How many times in his life had Janette 
purposely come between him and the women in whom he'd taken 
an interest? 
     "Yes," she replied without hesitation. "As much as I 
hate to admit it, I *like* Natalie. She's good for you. And 
I truly believe she can make you happy. I won't lie to you, 
Nicolas.  I still love you, and I wanted things to be like 
they once were for us. But you don't want that life anymore. 
I accept that now. This time it's *you* who has to move on." 
     "I've tried. And failed," he reminded her with disgust. 
"Over and over--" 
     "The question is, Nick, why didn't it seem to matter to 
you?" she pressed him. "You have many flaws, mon amour, but 
infidelity was never one of them. If you really love her-- 
and I know you do--then why did you make love to me?" 
     Her question had held not even the slightest bit of 
venom he might have expected; rather she was reaching out to 
him with the friendship and concern that had developed over 
the centuries. She truly wanted to know what had motivated 
him, and he knew she deserved his honesty. 
     He sighed deeply, taking her hand and leading her to 
sit beside him on the couch. And when he met her sympathetic 
gaze, he knew that she was reading the pain in his eyes. "I 
was afraid, Janette. LaCroix wanted me to bring her across 
to prove that I didn't love her. If not..." He paused, the 
memory still evoking fear in him, "I don't know what he 
would have done to her." 
     "He would have tortured her--killed her," she said 
plainly, "He wanted revenge for Fleur. And what would you 
have done, Nick? Would you really have made her one of us?" 
     He shook his head. "I don't know. I've asked myself 
that a thousand times. I would never condemn her to this 
existence--and yet, if losing her were the only other 
choice..." 
     "So you stalled. And hoped he would believe your lie. 
But Nicolas, how could you possibly think you could deceive 
him? He knows our thoughts--" 
     "I wanted to believe that I'd convinced him. I wanted 
to think that she'd be safe. And yet, I was terrified that 
he'd come back for her. So I stayed away. Even though I knew 
I was hurting her. And I tried to erase her memory so that 
she wouldn't know what had happened. So she wouldn't realize 
how close we'd come to happiness. I wanted to spare her that 
pain." 
     "But she remembered, didn't she?" 
     He nodded. 
     "Nick, she must have been devastated to see us 
together." 
     "I didn't mean for it to happen, Janette. I truly did 
come to resolve things between us. But everything in my life 
lately has been nothing but disappointment. I needed--" 
     "You needed comfort. You needed release from your 
frustration. Things have been building up in you, Nick. I 
sensed it myself. Maybe I took advantage of that too. Don't 
you think Natalie can forgive you for your weakness? In 
time?" 
     "I don't know," he said honestly. "Perhaps I don't 
deserve her forgiveness. Or her love." 
     Janette took him into her arms, stroking his hair as he 
rested his head against her shoulder. He hadn't expected 
this of her, but he was so grateful that she'd looked beyond 
her anger and recognized that their needs and wants no 
longer coincided.... Perhaps this *was* a new beginning for 
them--as the eternal friends he'd wanted them to be. As he 
separated from her, he smiled weakly and kissed her on the 
cheek. "Thank you," he said softly. 
     "It will work out, Nicolas. If you want it to." 
     His face grew serious. "And what of LaCroix? What I 
don't understand is why he let me off the hook, if he didn't 
believe me." 
     Janette shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows? Maybe he 
felt a bit of compassion at the last moment." She paused, as 
he looked at her doubtfully. "Maybe he simply thought she'd 
be of more value to him alive than dead," she added, as if 
she knew that that were a more realistic possibility. 
     "Well, at least now he'll have no reason to go near 
her," he commented sourly. But Janette's sudden silence was 
telling. "What is it?" he pressed. 
     "I didn't want to tell you this," she said, looking 
down. "But LaCroix was the one who told Natalie to go to the 
Raven. He was watching us." Her voice betrayed her 
humiliation. "He saw us...and he called her...told her you 
were in danger. That's why she came to the club." 
     His eyes flared with rage as he stood, unable to 
contain his fury. "That perverted bastard! I'll kill him 
this time, Janette! I'll kill him for interfering in our 
lives like this!" 
     "Nick, please. Don't confront him!" Her face was filled 
with sudden fear as she rose to put a restraining hand on 
his arm. "It won't change what's happened! If you truly want 
to defeat him, then don't give in to what he wants. He wants 
you to come back to us. He thinks he's destroyed your only 
tie to the mortal world. Don't let him do it! Make amends 
with Natalie, and go away--" 
     "To where, Janette? Have I ever really been able to 
escape from his grasp?! And if by some miracle, Natalie were 
to forgive me--is it any safer for us to be together now 
than it was before? Can I ever really hope to protect her 
from him?" 
     Janette's face was filled with her sorrow for him. She 
could not respond. She had no solution to offer. "I don't 
have an answer for you," she said finally. 
     "Because there is none." He turned away from her, 
reaching again for the bottle. "Maybe Erica had the best 
answer. Maybe death is the only way to escape." 
     "You always said you'd rather join the living," she 
reminded him gently, placing her fingers on the bottle. 
     "And I haven't been able to do that, have I?" He drank, 
closing his eyes as the heat began to emanate from them once 
more. When he turned to her, amber had washed away the 
gentle blue. 
     "Nicolas, it will all work out," she insisted. 
     "How, Janette? When the woman I love thinks I'm a 
killer..." 
     Janette took a deep breath. "Nick, that's what I 
originally came here to tell you. There's been more than one 
murder." 
     He looked up at her. "What do you mean?" 
     "There were at least four others. One near the Raven, 
one in the park, and two in the University. Two of the new 
ones discovered them," she explained. "They came to me, and 
I had the bodies...disposed of." 
      "The missing persons..." he mumbled as the pieces of a 
puzzle began to fall into place; as the cop in him began to 
rise to the occasion. "Janette...one of them was a five year 
old child!" 
     "I know," she said, compassion in her voice. "It's a 
renegade, Nick. Someone from out of town, who's made no 
contact with the community here..." 
     "But has put everyone at risk," he finished for her. He 
set the bottle down. He didn't need it right now. This case, 
this new danger, would occupy his mind. And he would bury 
himself in it, as if nothing else mattered. Perhaps it would 
be the only thing to bring him through his despair. "I'll do 
what I can," he promised, squeezing her hand. "But you've 
got to put the word out to everyone else. If anyone hears 
anything--" 
     "I'll let you know," she said, visibly relieved that he 
would give it his attention. 
     He looked at her for a long moment, then gathered her 
into his arms for a warm embrace. "Thank you, Janette," he 
said softly, kissing her on the cheek. "For everything." 
 
     Natalie let down her hair, shaking it loose as she 
yawned with exhaustion. Yes, she had certainly brought 
herself to the brink. She doubted if anything would keep her 
from falling into a coma the moment she got home and her 
head hit the pillow. It was better this way. Tomorrow was 
her day off. If she were lucky, maybe she'd sleep through 
most of it.... 
     She looked back at her desk to make sure she'd taken 
everything she needed at home. Car keys, date book, the copy 
of Cosmo she'd picked up at lunch time.... 
     Suddenly a chill ran down her spine, as she was 
assaulted by the sensation of another presence. She was 
being watched. She turned around instinctively and gasped, 
nearly jumping out of her skin as she saw him there. 
     "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." 
     She composed herself quickly, not wanting LaCroix to 
perceive any weakness in her. "Yeah, I think we've covered 
this ground before. You do like surprise entrances, don't 
you?" 
     "The element of surprise is always an advantage," he 
replied matter-of-factly. 
     "But a morgue is probably not the best place to sneak 
up on someone. It could get a little unnerving in a building 
full of dead bodies." She caught herself in the irony of 
what she was saying, and gave him a half-smile. "No offense 
intended, of course." 
     "None taken," he replied, amusement in his eyes. He 
stepped closer to her, his expression growing serious. "It's 
very late for you to be alone." 
     "Well, I had a lot of work to do," she replied. "One of 
your friends got a little careless tonight." 
     His face remained unchanged. "This is precisely what I 
came to warn you about. There's a renegade in town who seems 
to have left a trail of bodies in his wake--" 
     "Wait, did you say bodies? Plural? I've only got one 
here--" 
     "There were four more," he explained. "They were found 
and disposed of properly before they were discovered by 
mortals." 
     "Do you have any idea who's doing it?" 
     He shook his head. "Someone who's either too young to 
know any better, or too ancient to care. In either case, he 
must be stopped. It's against our code to kill in such a way 
as to draw attention to our kind." 
     "Does this mean the Enforcers will come?" 
     He raised an eyebrow. "You do know a great deal about 
us, don't you?" 
     "Probably more than I care to at the moment," she 
replied mirthlessly. 
     "I thought you found us fascinating creatures?" There 
was no mockery in his voice. 
     She sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I do. I've just had a 
very rough shift--not to mention the last couple of days-- 
and I really need to go home and get some sleep." She began 
to gather her things. 
     "Natalie." 
     She looked up at him, surprised for some reason by the 
intimacy with which he seemed to call her by name. 
     "Would you at least permit me to accompany you back to 
your home? One of the victims was found in the park near 
your apartment building. It's not very safe for you to be 
alone." 
     She searched his eyes as if looking for some hidden 
purpose, some motivation for his sudden concern. But she 
could find none. What would be so wrong with letting him 
safeguard her? After all, she had no intention of ending up 
as a midnight snack for some renegade vampire. And if 
LaCroix himself meant to harm her, couldn't he have killed 
her before she'd even realized he was there? 
     "Okay," she agreed. "Thank you." 
     And LaCroix seemed quite pleased. 
 
     The conversation in the car had been of such mundane 
things--the theater, music, the latest movies. LaCroix was 
not at all what she had expected; in fact, she found it hard 
to believe that this was the same being who once had 
threatened her life. She struggled to maintain her guard; 
after all, he was a killer. And yet, despite all she knew of 
him, all Nick had told her, she was not afraid. And she 
hadn't the faintest idea why. 
     Was it his gentle manner? Was it the sincerity in his 
crystal blue eyes, or the calming effect of his throaty 
voice? Or was it the mere fact that he had come to warn her 
of a possible danger? He meant her no harm. She could feel 
it. But just what did he want of her? 
     As he walked her to the door of her apartment, Natalie 
thought it almost ludicrous that she felt the same anxiety 
of a first date. Would she be able to leave him at the door? 
Did she want to? She'd actually *enjoyed* his company. And 
for a short time, she'd been able to forget her pain. Yet 
the nagging doubt screamed at her. How could she trust him? 
And unlike poor judgment with a normal male companion, a 
mistake here could mean her life. She turned the key in the 
lock, and looked at him as the door opened. 
     His cool hand on hers sent a chill through her body. "I 
mean you no harm, Natalie. I told you that already." He 
paused, looking into her eyes, reading her reaction. 
Although, she would have bet that he'd been reading her 
thoughts all along. "I want to apologize for what happened 
at Azure. It was between me and Nicholas. It's unfortunate 
that you were caught in the middle. But that's over now. And 
you have nothing to fear from me." 
     "I know," she mouthed slowly. And she meant it. 
     "You...will be careful?" He withdrew his hand from hers 
as if he were aware that it had been there for too long. 
"Perhaps it would be safer to change your hours...until this 
problem has been resolved." 
     "Well, to be quite honest, until this is over, I may 
not have much of a choice. If anyone else sees those 
bodies..." Her voice trailed off. She wasn't very 
comfortable drawing attention to the fact that she was using 
her position to cover up these vampire murders. 
     He looked at her with understanding.  "Then I suppose I 
will find myself checking on you from time to time." 
     She gave him a slight smile. "As long as you knock 
first." 
     He smiled back. "Then I take it I have your permission 
to call on you again?" 
     She nodded. "Good night, LaCroix." 
     "Good night." 
     She watched him walk away before closing the door 
behind him. 
 
     Natalie leaned her body against the door and heaved a 
deep sigh. "What the hell am I doing?" she said softly to 
herself. 
     She was convinced that her judgment was gone. That was 
it. In her despair over Nick, she'd totally lost her mind. 
Why else would she spend time with an killer? 
     Yet, Nick had been a killer. 
     *No. That's ridiculous. How can I compare them?* she 
admonished herself. *LaCroix is evil. Nick is not.* 
     But was he truly evil? Or was her image of him merely 
the product of Nick's perceptions? She didn't know. But 
something inside her wanted to find out. Her curiosity. Her 
fascination with all of their kind. The mere wonder of a 
being who had lived for two thousand years.... 
     Or maybe, she just needed some diversion; something to 
keep her from thinking of Nick.... 
     Nick. Her heart ached for him. She resisted the urge to 
pick up the phone. To tell him that she was sorry for 
accusing him of the murders when she now knew the truth.... 
     And an ironic thought struck her. 
     Her trust in Nick had been so eroded that she had 
thought him capable of murder. But it had never even 
occurred to her to point a finger at LaCroix. 
 
     His fingers tapped impatiently on the sound board as he 
waited for the song to end. A song about love, and fear of 
betrayal. He thought of Natalie, and wondered if she was 
listening. No, she was probably asleep. It was better. The 
words would hurt her; remind her of Nicholas' betrayal. 
     What a fool Nicholas was! To have destroyed the very 
thing he had sought so desperately to attain. Had that night 
with Janette been worth it? Worth losing a love as 
passionate as Natalie's....? 
     "Betrayal, Gentle Listeners. That is the theme for 
tonight.  Why do we betray those we love? Is it our 
weakness? Our fear of giving of ourselves completely? 
     "Fear motivates all. Fear of rejection...of pain...of 
love. Fear of death?" He laughed. "Perhaps for some. Yet 
some are afraid of nothing...or they struggle not to belie 
their fear to those whom they fear most." He became pensive 
for a moment. He knew he was rambling. But, then again, he 
could do whatever he wanted, say whatever he wanted, 
couldn't he? 
     "Perhaps fear should be our theme for tonight. What do 
*you* fear, Gentle Listeners? What does the Night Crawler 
fear?" 
     Yet he knew the answer. 
     Love. 
     "A friend once asked me what I thought were the 
qualities of a strong ruler--a prince. I told him, it was 
better to be feared than loved." Another light laugh. "He 
quoted me verbatim and never gave me the credit for his most 
well-known advice." 
     "What do you think, my friends? Is it better to be 
feared or loved?" He stared ahead into nothingness as he 
took a sip of the red liquid in his wine glass. But he was 
seeing her. "I used to think it was better to be feared. But 
I have been feared all my life. Was it really better? Was my 
life any better for instilling fear in those around me? Did 
the end justify the means?" 
     Another taste of the blood. And he imagined it was 
hers. How sweet it would be.... 
     "But you...you don't fear me, do you? You know...you 
have nothing to fear. And your lack of fear...frightens me." 
     He reached for the tape. It was time for another song. 
 
     In bed, she lay awake, listening to the radio at her 
bedside, to the soothing tones of his voice. And she 
whispered, "No...I don't fear you." 
     And that frightened her too. 
 
     She slept most of the day. It was easier that way. For 
the moment she awoke, the dull ache was back, the knot that 
reached from her stomach up into her chest. The hot shower 
didn't help. Cuddling on the couch with Sydney wasn't 
enough. All she could think of were the countless times that 
she'd snuggeld beside Nick, watching movies all night until 
the rising sun had drained him of energy. She thought of the 
time that dawn had crept too close; undaunted, almost 
pleased, he'd drawn her shades, and spent the day dozing 
beside her. It was before he'd told her he loved her; before 
they'd become more than friends. Yet she had revelled in the 
sensation of his arms around her as he'd slept soundly, 
comfortably, secure that she would watch over him in his 
most vulnerable state. 
     She could feel her tears rising, and she pushed them 
back. She couldn't go on like this. 
     She dressed and set out for work. At least there, she 
would have no time to think. To remember. 
     To long for him. 
 
     It was dusk when she reached the Coroner's Office, and 
Grace looked up at her in surprise. "I didn't expect you 
until tomorrow." 
     "I got bored at home," she said simply, pulling on her 
lab coat. 
     "You must be psychic. This one just came in," she said, 
motioning to a body on the table. "George was going to do 
it, but--" 
     "I'll take care of it," she supplied quickly, having a 
bad feeling. The bag was much too small. 
     "It's a kid, Natalie. Eighteen years old. they found 
him at the University." 
     Natalie shook her head. "They keep getting younger," 
she mumbled as she unzipped the bag. And by the pale face 
that greeted her, she knew. 
     She purposely avoided the neck, careful not even to 
glance as Grace watched. Instead, she scraped under the 
fingernails, preparing a sample. "DNA test," she said, 
handing it to Grace. 
     Her friend nodded, glad to leave the room. 
     Gently, Natalie turned the head, though she had no 
doubt as to what she would find. She shook her head, 
rezipping the bag. An autopsy was pointless. She knew what 
had killed him. 
     The only question now would be how to hide it. 
 
     She'd known he would come. Eventually. And her heart 
quickened at the sight of him. His pale, handsome features, 
warm blue eyes, the blong hair flecked with the sunlight 
that had not touched it in centuries. She wanted to reach 
out to him, touch his cool skin, feel its heat as he laid 
his hand upon hers. But she could not touch him, nor react. 
She willed herself to be calm, for her heart to slow its 
pace lest he hear her excitement. But she knew her face was 
flushing slightly as he came towards her. 
     "Natalie--I need to talk to you." 
 
     His tone was serious, business-like. She could see that 
he was uncertain, hesitant, almost averting her eyes. She'd 
hurt him with her accusations. She knew it. And despite the 
fact that he'd torn her apart with his actions, she didn't 
have it in her to be vindictive. 
     "Nick," she began gently. 
     "Nat, that murder wasn't an isolated incident. There've 
been others. They were...covered up." 
     "I know," she said slowly. "I had another one here, 
too." 
     He looked up at her. "I'm surprised you didn't suspect 
*me*," he said stiffly. 
     She took a deep breath, ignoring his bitterness. 
     "There's a renegade...someone from out of town," he 
explained, not seeming to register the lack of surprise on 
her face. "We've put the word out--and I've been trying to 
track him down. I was hoping maybe you had something for me. 
Some clue." He shifted uncomfortably. "I also wanted to warn 
you. It's not safe for you to be outside alone at night." 
     "Nick," she began again, determined to get it out 
before she lost her nerve. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have 
accused you. I knew you couldn't have done it. It was just 
my anger speaking. I'm sorry." 
     His face softened as visible relief engulfed him. He 
shook his head slightly as he reached tentatively to place 
his hand on hers. "It's okay. I can't really blame you." 
     She was silent. There was nothing to say. For a moment 
their eyes locked, and she realized how pale he seemed, how 
fatigued. She wanted to ask if he was eating, but bit her 
tongue. She didn't really want to know what he'd been doing. 
 
     She looked down at his hand on hers, before pulling it 
away. "The only significant thing I've got is the fact that 
they were both found at the University," she said, reaching 
for her clipboard, forcing the professional facade to take 
over once more. "The first was twenty; James Singer. A 
junior, originally from Montreal. The second looks to be 
eighteen years old. No positive ID yet. I'd say he was 
probably a freshman." She shook her head. "Whoever this is 
gets some kind of perverted kick out of killing them young." 
     "The others were even younger," he told her, visibly 
disturbed. "I checked the Missing Persons from the past few 
days. Three high school kids, and a five year old girl." 
     She looked up at him, horrified. "Nick, who could it 
be? Who would do this...to children?" 
     He sighed deeply. "I don't know. Obviously someone who 
doesn't care if they get caught." 
     "Or wants to get caught?" she proposed. 
     He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll start at the 
University. I'll have Schanke check new admissions records 
tomorrow, but for tonight I'll just go keep watch." 
     "Be careful," she found herself saying as he poised to 
leave. 
     He hesitated. "Nat, it's not safe for you to be out 
alone tonight. Would you at least wait here until I get 
back? Let me make sure you get home all right?" 
     "Nick, it's really not necessary--" 
     "Nat, this isn't about us." He took her hand again, as 
the coolness sent a wave of heat through her. "I don't want 
anything to happen to you. Please, just let me do this." 
     She didn't want him to. She didn't want to even 
acknowledge that he could be concerned. To do so would allow 
the possibility that he still cared...that some part of him 
did really love her. Those thoughts weren't permitted. No. 
She couldn't fall into the trap again.... 
     Friendly concern. Guilt. A sense of responsibility. 
That's all it was. 
     So what would be the big deal, then? After all, she 
didn't want to be alone if this renegade did happen to go 
hunting in her neck of the woods. Let Nick get her home 
safely. Didn't he owe her at least that? 
     "Okay," she agreed uncomfortably. 
     The smile in his eyes melted the thinly veiled lies 
she'd just told herself. She knew damn well why she'd 
accepted. And she hated herself for it. 
 
     He'd sent Schanke on a paper trail, doing whatever 
research he could after hours; anything to keep him indoors. 
He didn't want Schanke, or any other cop for that matter, to 
be the first to encounter their "suspect". It was a vampire; 
a vampire who killed indiscriminately. Any mortal was at 
risk. Nick knew he couldn't protect them all. But he'd 
safeguard those he could. His friends; the ones he loved.... 
     Schanke, he realized, was about the only one now who 
fit into the first category.  And the void left in his life 
by Natalie was devastating. Knowing he could not love her, 
be with her in the way he wanted, had been painful enough. 
But as a friend he'd come to depend on her. He realized only 
now how much he'd taken that friendship for granted. It had 
all been on his terms. She'd been there whenever he'd needed 
her. But how seldom he'd been there for her! And how often 
he'd ignored her completely when Janette had been able to 
fill his needs. He was a selfish bastard and he knew it. And 
now they were both paying for it. 
     The scent of humans brought his attention back to the 
situation at hand. He looked in the distance to see a young 
girl walking across campus. He followed her with his eyes 
until she'd safely reached the dorm building, then sighed. 
     This was useless. He couldn't be everywhere on campus. 
But this killer was somewhere. 
     He let the wind carry him upwards. Perhaps from the sky 
he could get a better view.... 
 
     She watched him disappear into the night sky. So 
intense. So sad. He never seemed to change. She'd kept 
safely from his view, from his ability to sense her. But 
she'd stared at him for hours, taking in every line of his 
face, the blond curls at his neck, the light in his clear 
blue eyes. Every aspect so perfectly as she remembered.... 
     She'd drawn him here, led him here with the delicious 
string of young mortals she'd left in her wake. And now she 
would lie in wait. The time would have to be right, before 
she could make her presence known.... 
     And then she would have him. This time, she would have 
him. 
     Her eyes burned amber with her desire for him. Yes, 
this time. And no one would stand in her way. 
 
    Natalie looked impatiently at her watch. Almost one in 
the morning. She shouldn't be here. Her work had been done 
over an hour ago. Yet, what if another victim arrived? 
Another young body to examine, another death to explain, to 
cover.... 
     The guilt over her part in it all weighed heavily upon 
her. Covering for Nick, helping to maintain his secrecy, was 
one thing. Becoming a tool of the vampire community was 
another matter altogether. She couldn't go on doing this. It 
went against every grain of her character, every ounce of 
integrity, every moral precept that had ruled her entire 
life. She'd compromised too much of herself for *him*. She 
wouldn't do it for *them* too. 
     The silence in the morgue was deafening, too. Everyone 
else had gone, and once again, she found herself alone with 
nothing but her thoughts.... 
     She wouldn't give into them. She switched on the radio 
at her desk. Why was it that in trying to keep her mind off 
Nick, she found herself turning to LaCroix? Yet something in 
his voice, his calm, soothed her. She wanted to hear him. 
She wanted to know more about him, to know what lay behind 
the rough facade he tried so desperately to maintain. Nick 
had been so wrong about him. There was so much more to him 
than she had ever imagined, a side she wanted to explore.... 
     Why? 
     She didn't know. Perhaps because the excitement, the 
newness of it all, the fascination, allowed her to forget 
her despair, or rather to pretend that she could forget it. 
That there *was* life beyond Nick.... 
     "It's one a.m., Gentle Listeners. And the Nightcrawler 
wants you to be careful. It isn't safe to be out after 
dark...." 
     Natalie's lips parted in surprise. "He cares about 
them," she whispered in disbelief. 
     Nick's recollections truly did not do him justice. 
 
     Five hours had yielded nothing but frustration. The 
campus was deserted, as frightened students made a point of 
being indoors.  Nick glanced at his watch, and, seeing that 
it was nearly one, pulled out his cell phone. His lips 
involuntarily formed a smile as she answered. It was good to 
hear her voice. And he was overcome with the sudden desire 
to see her. "Natalie? It's me. There's nothing here. I 
realized it was late, and thought I'd come to take you home. 
If you're ready." 
     "Yeah, I think I'm finished here," she replied tiredly. 
     "I'll be right there," he promised. 
     He flew to his car. Walking just wouldn't get him there 
fast enough. And he wanted to see her.... 
 
     She wanted to see him. She could deny it to herself no 
longer. But as he entered her office, with that charming 
smile that he'd reserved for some of their closest moments, 
she realized that he was drawing her in. And she couldn't 
let him. It was as if he wanted to forget everything that 
had happened. 
     She couldn't. She wouldn't. And she turned on the 
professional facade that she'd always used with him in 
public. The disappointment on his face was immediate and 
overwhelming. Had he actually had the gall to think that she 
could go back to the way things were? 
     "Anything new on the bodies?" he asked awkwardly, 
understanding that she was setting limits with him. Work was 
all she would discuss. 
     "Nothing," she replied, as they headed to her car. She 
sat in the driver's seat, not feeling quite comfortable as 
he took his place beside her. it was too close, too 
intimate. He could just reach over and.... 
     He did. His hand covered hers on the steering wheel. 
"Are you okay?" 
     She hated his concern. *Why now?* she thought bitterly. 
*Why not think of me before?* 
     "I'm fine, " she replied, not wanting to let her voice 
shake. It was hard to concentrate with his hand on hers. So 
cool, yet sending waves of heat throughout her body. *He 
knows it too, damn him!* she thought angrily. She moved her 
hand, pretending to adjust the rear-view mirror. An obvious 
ploy to break the contact, but she didn't care. It was 
easier if she didn't touch him. 
     "What about you? How's your health? You look a little 
pale." She hadn't wanted to ask, but it was better than the 
repressive silence. 
     "I've been staying off the blood," he told her, not 
without some pride, as if he were trying to impress her. 
     "Completely?" she asked in surprise. 
     "Yeah. I suppose I needed a catharsis. maybe 
this...will change things." 
     She looked at him sharply, but brought her eyes quickly 
back to the road before her. 
     "Nat, I miss you," he blurted suddenly. 
     She couldn't look into his eyes. What a lucky break 
that she was driving! "Nick, I thought you promised this 
wouldn't be about us," she reminded him softly. If she spoke 
with any more force, her voice would break. 
     "I'm sorry," he responded quickly, settling back into 
the passenger seat. "Really, I...I just want to make sure 
you get home okay." 
     And as he fell into silence, she believed him. he would 
not press further, and she sighed with relief as she pulled 
into a spot in front of her house. 
     He insisted on walking her to the door, and once more 
she felt that awkward indecision. But she couldn't invite 
him inside. She couldn't let it happen again. "So, are you 
going back to the campus?" she asked as she turned her key 
in the lock. 
     "No. I think I'll go to the Raven to see if anyone has 
heard--" 
     He stopped mid-sentence, and she knew it was because of 
the way she must have visibly stiffened at the mention of 
Janette's club. "Okay, well, I've gotta get some sleep--" 
     "Nat, wait," he said, holding the door open. "I swear 
to you, I'm going there for information. That's all--" 
     "I...don't care," she said steadily. "It's none of my 
business." 
     "Yes, it is." His eyes were begging her to forgive his 
faux pas, to believe him. 
     But any part of her that may have relaxed with him had 
tensed immediately. Her shields were back up. "No, it's 
not," she said firmly. "Not anymore." 
     She stepped inside, turning to look at him once last 
time. "Good night, Nick. And thanks for bringing me home." 
     She closed the door before he could silently protest 
with his anguished eyes. 
 
     In the street, Nick smashed his fist into a light pole, 
denting it. What stupidity! How could he have been so 
foolish as to mention the Raven? How would he ever prove to 
her that his relationship with Janette was over? 
     He couldn't. And as he flew off into the night, it 
occurred to him that once again he had taken Natalie's 
feelings for granted. Winning her back would not be as 
simple as abstaining from blood, or distancing himself from 
Janette. The emotional wounds he had inflicted upon her ran 
too deep. Even in his darkest moments, the hope had lived 
secretly within him that she could forgive him in time. But 
the awful realization had begun to sink in. 
     She might never forgive him. And it was quite possible 
that he had destroyed not only her trust, but any love she 
had ever felt for him. 
     He knew he deserved it. But the thought of going on 
without her in his life terrified him. 
     He had never loved like this. So why had he treated her 
so badly? She had been right when she'd told him that their 
relationship had been one-sided. He'd always expected her to 
be there for him. What had he ever given her in return? 
Pain? Abuse? How many times had he hurt her, taking out his 
frustrations, his disappointments? Yet she had stood by him 
until finally he'd committed the ultimate act of betrayal. 
     No, he couldn't blame her. This time, he could blame no 
one for his misery. Only himself. 
     Perhaps his own selfishness was an even greater enemy 
that LaCroix had ever been. 
 
     She watched him disappear into the darkness, wanting to 
follow. But no. The time wasn't right. 
     So this was his 'Natalie'. She could destroy her in an 
instant, she knew. She wanted to. But she wasn't quite sure 
just how Nicholas would react. Better to wait. 
     She'd waited hundreds of years. A few days more would 
make no difference whatsoever. 
     She glanced at the light in the second floor window, 
then lifted herself slowly up into the air. 
     Wait. And watch. Yes, that was what she would do. 
 
     How dare he?! 
     "Who the hell does he think he is?!" she yelled, 
scaring Sydney, and half hoping that with his preternatural 
hearing, Nick had somehow heard her. The audacity of him to 
even think that things could ever be as they were between 
them, when less than *a week* had passed since he'd slept 
with Janette, drunk her blood.... 
     How could he even mention the Raven, when it had been 
in that very spot that he had devastated her, crushing her 
heart as she'd seen him there with Janette...?! 
     Once more *that image* swam before her. This time she 
held onto it, drawing strength from it, letting it feed her 
anger. *Don't forget what he did to you, Nat,* she told 
herself. *Don't let him wear you down. Don't let him touch 
you...or smile at you like that...Just keep hating him as 
much as you do right now....* 
     The doorbell. His impudence infuriated her. She strode 
to the door, gathering all her will, determined that this 
time she would not weaken.... 
     "Why can't you just leave me alo--?!" 
     She stopped mid-sentence, to see a confused LaCroix 
staring back at her. Her mouth dropped open, then formed a 
smile. In spite of herself, she let out a light laugh. 
     He'd remembered to use the doorbell. 
     "Did I come at an inopportune time?" he asked politely, 
far too charming. 
     "Well, in a way--I mean, no. It's okay. Come in." She 
stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. "I'm sorry. I 
thought you were--" 
     "Nicholas?" he offered. 
     What was it in his eyes? Curiosity? Or something more? 
     "Nick insisted on bringing me home," she said simply, 
then added, "probably not the best idea in retrospect." 
     He nodded his understanding. "I came by to see if you 
had gotten home safely," he explained, seeming awkward at 
the need to make conversation. "I stopped at the Coroner's 
Office, but you had already left." 
     "Thank you," she said, her appreciation genuine. "And, 
I'm sorry. The screaming was meant for him." 
     "Might I take it then that the smile was meant for me?" 
he asked with a slight teasing glint in his eyes. 
     She felt her cheeks grow hot. "I was pleasantly 
surprised that you'd remembered to use the doorbell." 
     "I thought that with this renegade still on the loose 
it would be quite unsettling if I had decided to just come 
in unannounced," he said in all seriousness. He paused, 
looking at her for a long moment as if not sure if he were 
welcome. "Well, as long as you're safe, I suppose I should 
leave you alone to get your rest." 
     "Oh, no," she said quickly, then, embarrassed, added, 
"It's okay--if you'd like to stay a while. I'm too wired to 
get to sleep right now anyway. I wouldn't mind some 
company." 
     And while part of her screamed, *What the hell are you 
doing?!*, another part felt a sense of relief at his gentle 
smile. She didn't want to be alone. 
     "I would like that," he told her, as she sat on the 
couch and motioned for him to join her. "I enjoyed our 
conversation last night." 
     "So did I," she admitted. 
     He hesitated a moment, before choosing a spot to sit. 
Close enough to look into her eyes, far enough to not seem 
threatening. "It really isn't very often that I find someone 
with whom I can speak so...freely." 
     "Human or vampire?" she asked. 
     "Either," he replied. "Most mortals do not know of us. 
Those who do are usually too afraid to open up to us." He 
smiled. "Present company excepted, of course." 
     "I know how you feel," she told him, cradling a pillow 
in her arms as if subconsciously holding a shield between 
them. "It's difficult to talk to people when there are 
things you have to keep secret. You don't know how often 
I've felt that way in the last three years." 
     He looked at her in curious disbelief. "Someone like 
you must have many friends...family..." 
     She breathed deeply. "I did. But my parents moved to 
the States, and my brother Richard was the only one I had. 
He...died...a year and a half ago." 
     She didn't know why. But suddenly she wanted to tell 
him all about what had happened to Richard.  Finally there 
was someone besides Nick who could know...understand.... 
     "Tell me," he urged, as if reading her thoughts. 
     So she did. LaCroix listened patiently, captivated by 
her story. And when she was through, she felt free. It was 
something she and Nick had so seldom discussed. Perhaps it 
was the guilt they shared. 
     "It was my fault," she said quietly. "I begged him to 
do it. I was wrong." 
     LaCroix reached out to place his hand on hers. "You 
didn't want to lose him. You were afraid. There was nothing 
wrong with that." 
     "Nick knew better," she said sadly. 
     "He's lived longer," LaCroix replied gently, then added 
thoughtfully, "Although, he's not always the wiser for it. 
If I may say so, he was very foolish as far as his 
relationship with you was concerned." 
     "Yeah, well, I suppose there was a lot that got in our 
way." 
     "Including me?" 
     She looked up at him without the bitterness he might 
have expected. "You know, I don't really think it would have 
mattered in the end. We may have been happy for a 
while...but he would probably have gone back to Janette 
sooner or later anyway." 
     LaCroix shook his head slowly, more out of disbelief 
than disagreement. "Trust me, Natalie. You have a great deal 
more to offer than Janette." 
     She stood uncomfortably. "Would you mind if we changed 
the topic? Nick and Janette are the last people I want to 
think about right now." 
     He rose to meet her, reaching out to touch her hair as 
he gazed into her eyes. "You are in such pain." It was an 
observation. But she could see a compassion on his face, 
almost as if he could feel her anguish. 
     "Yeah, well, I guess it's an occupational hazard of 
falling in love with a vampire," she said, meeting his gaze. 
     His hand moved to her cheek, warming her with his cool 
caress. "I wish you would let me take away your pain." 
     And as his meaning became immediately clear to her, she 
was afraid--not that he would harm her, but that he would 
take her memories away from her, in essence, take Nick away 
from her. And she could not bear to lose the only part of 
him that was hers--her memory of him. Her first instinct was 
to pull away. But somehow she knew that LaCroix was giving 
her a choice. Rather than avert what might soon become a 
hypnotic gaze, she looked him squarely in the eyes, as she 
said firmly, "No." 
     "Why not, Natalie? Why not spare yourself the misery of 
his betrayal--the very memory that you ever felt anything 
for him at all? Wouldn't it be easier?" 
     "Erasing the memories won't erase the feelings, 
LaCroix," she replied. "In any case, our pain...our 
experiences...are what make us who we are." 
     She could see that she'd hit upon a point he could not 
argue. 
     "Anyway, to lose the bad memories, I'd have to lose the 
good ones too," she added. 
     Now he looked at her dubiously. "And did loving 
Nicholas bring you anything but pain?"" 
     "Yes," she told him without hesitation. "More than you 
can imagine. And if all I can have are my memories of him, 
then that's something that no one should take away from me." 
     He regarded her for a long moment as she kept her eyes 
locked steadily on his, silently telling him that she would 
not yield to his mind control even if he were to try. "Then 
I will respect your wishes," he told her finally. His 
fingers lingered a moment more on her face, then dropped to 
his side. 
     He sank back into the couch, pensive, as if wondering 
himself why he had not forced his will upon her, as if 
troubled that she had somehow had the resoluteness and the 
strength to stop him. Natalie dropped down next to him, her 
victory in this last round giving her the confidence to dare 
to move closer. 
     "What about you, LaCroix?" she prodded gently. "Tell me 
about *your* pain." 
 
     He looked at her, slight surprise on his face, then 
smiled weakly. "I would wish to tell you that I have none. 
But I don't think you would believe me." 
     She shook her head. 
     He sighed deeply. "My pain. Where to begin? My greatest 
pain was Fleur. Nicholas' sister. I loved her as I have 
never loved before, or since. And I wished to bring her 
across." 
     "But what did  *she* want?" Natalie asked delicately. 
     "She wanted to be with me," he responded simply. 
     "Did she understand--realize--what it would mean?" 
     He nodded. "Yes. But Nicholas convinced me that I would 
destroy the very purity in her that I adored. And I...would 
not do that." 
     Natalie slipped her hand over his, a comforting gesture 
which he seemed to appreciate. "Is that why you wanted him 
to bring me over?" she dared. 
     He shook his head, looking down at her hand and 
covering it with his other one. "No. That's why I *stopped 
him *from bringing you over." 
     Her lips parted in surprise as he went on. 
     "I suppose in an ironic way, I will have my 
retribution. For one day, sweet Natalie, you will be gone." 
He lifted his eyes to hers, betraying his sadness at the 
prospect.  "And then Nicholas will know the pain I have 
endured when he rues the day that he did *not* make you 
immortal." 
     She looked away at the mention of his name. "He doesn't 
care." 
     "Oh yes, he does. But he also believes that we are evil 
creatures. He would rather see you die than transform you 
into one of us." 
     Natalie's eyes rose to meet his once more. "But you're 
not evil." She stated it as a simple fact. 
     He laughed lightly. "You don't think so?" 
     "No. You've *done* evil, LaCroix. But I don't believe 
you are inherently evil. Or that becoming a vampire makes 
one evil." 
     He considered her words. "Perhaps it would be more 
precise to say that I am no more cruel or ruthless as a 
vampire  than I was as a human. That is the crux of 
Nicholas' torment, you see. That he was too good, too 
honorable, denying any of the darker aspects of his 
character. That is why he could never bear to kill. He felt 
guilt from the start." 
     "What about you?" she asked, wanting to steer the 
conversation away from Nick again. "You never felt guilty 
murdering?" 
     He thought a moment, as if trying to find a time in his 
long life that he had truly felt guilt. "Perhaps if you 
understood where it began.... When I was a young boy in 
Rome, I saw my father murder my mother and her lover. He 
stabbed the life out of them, and left them lying in puddles 
of blood. 'This is justice, Lucius,' he told me. 'Betrayal 
should always be met with retribution. And the best revenge 
is to take the lives of those who have betrayed you. To 
destroy those who cause you pain.'" 
     "And you believed him?" she asked, horrified at the 
thought that a little boy had witnessed such an atrocious 
act. 
     "I believed him so that when he slept that night I slit 
his throat--to avenge the death of my mother. 'Destroy those 
who cause you pain.'" 
     Natalie was dumbstruck. "How awful," she said softly. 
     "It was quite an educational experience, you see. It 
taught me that it was within my power to destroy whomever I 
wished. If thy right hand offend thee, then cut it off. 
Isn't that the phrase? Perhaps if made life problematic for 
a child of five. But I caught the notice of the emperor. And 
in time I became the most treacherous general in the Roman 
Army. Nothing was beyond me. Murder, rape...I even fathered 
a daughter with the wife of an ineffectual Senator who could 
not please her as I could. And he dared not say a word. 
Until one day, in a drunken stupor, he came up to me, placed 
his knife at my throat, and threatened to kill me. 
     "I turned the knife on him and slew him as my daughter 
Divia watched. She was only four...but she learned her 
lessons well from me." 
     "What happened to her?" 
     "It was in Pompeii, right before Vesuvius covered the 
city with its deadly flow. She fell ill while I was away on 
a campaign. An ancient healer had come to see her, and had 
left her cured. But strangely quiet, pale, not playing with 
the other children in the sunlight...." 
     Natalie's eyes  grew wide. "Someone brought her over?" 
     "Yes. And when the moment of death was at hand, she 
asked if I chose to live or die. Of course, I chose to live. 
I couldn't believe that even the gods could destroy me. I 
had no idea what she was, what she could do...." 
     "So your own daughter made you this?" It was too 
incredulous to be true. 
     "Yes. And the blood was so strong in her that she 
became as cruel a master as you can imagine." Natalie could 
hear the bitterness in his voice as he continued, 
"Relentlessly following me through the eternity she'd 
condemned me to...Almost a thousand years passed before I 
was able to free myself of her." 
     And as LaCroix's astonishing words seemed to echo what 
she had heard so often from Nick, it all became ridiculously 
clear to her. "That's why you made Nick and Janette," she 
whispered. "You were so tired of being controlled by Divia-- 
*you* wanted to be the Master, the one with power--" 
     "Yes," he said absently, a faraway look in his eyes, as 
if he had never made the connection himself. "But not 
entirely. It was different with them." 
     "Because you love them," she offered. "That's why you 
didn't kill Nick for betraying you." 
     He looked into her eyes, his expression softer than she 
had ever seen it, filled almost with wonder. 
"You...understand me...as no one else has." 
     "Perhaps you never gave anyone else the chance to." 
     "I...have never told this story to anyone. Oh, Nicholas 
and Janette do know of Divia--they knew her. But nothing 
more of my past." 
     "Why? How could you spend almost a millennium with them 
and not have told them all about yourself?" She paused, 
thinking through the answer for herself. "You didn't want to 
seem vulnerable to them. You didn't want them to know your 
past, or that you had been controlled by anyone. It would 
have made you seem less powerful." 
     "I wanted them to fear me," he admitted. "Yet to 
achieve this I forfeited the companionship of an equal in 
whom I could confide all I had felt, all I had done in my 
lifetime." 
     "It's difficult to trust," she agreed. "To let our 
vulnerabilities show. Nick has told me so much...and yet he 
could never tell me anything really bad that he'd done...he 
didn't trust me to understand." 
     He looked at her, uncomprehending. "Why would you wish 
to know these things?" 
     "To feel trusted. To know him completely. There are a 
lot of reasons." 
     "He trusted you more than he has ever trusted any 
mortal," he assured her. 
     She looked down. "That wasn't enough. I could never be 
to him what Janette was." 
     "You understand so much, Natalie, and yet you are blind 
when it comes to Nicholas. He confides in Janette because 
she knows what he was. What he's done. He doesn't love her. 
And he certainly doesn't trust her. She's betrayed him to me 
more times than you could possibly imagine. And she's hurt 
him in more ways than you could ever be capable of." 
     "Look, it's all moot, remember?" She rose 
uncomfortably. She didn't want to hear how wonderful she was 
compared to Janette. Did LaCroix's opinion really matter? 
Nick had made his choice when he'd gone back to vampire 
lover. 
     "Natalie," he said softly, but with a commanding voice. 
She looked into his eyes, letting him take her hand and 
gently pull her down to sit back down beside him. But she 
knew there was no mind control at play. It was his 
personality, his charisma--so strong, so overpowering. She 
*wanted* to listen to him. And as long as it was her choice 
to speak with him, be with him, what was so wrong? 
     "Please...let's not talk about Nick," she implored. 
This was one aspect she must control. 
     "Then what shall we talk about?" he asked pleasantly, 
still holding her hand as if the contact were warming his 
soul. 
     "You," she said boldly. "Tell me more about you." 
 
     She'd kept her distance, knowing that LaCroix would 
sense her outside the window. Yet it all seemed so 
deliciously complicated; she could not resist listening to 
their conversation. Clearly this woman was in love with 
Nicholas--and Nicholas had returned her feelings, but gone 
back to that harlot of his, as always. But *this* was 
incredible. Did LaCroix love her too? 
     It seemed unlikely. But if it weren't so, why didn't he 
just feed on her and have it done with? 
     A warm wind pricked at her skin, and she looked to the 
east intinctively. This was fascinating--but not worth being 
scorched in the rising sun. Time to go home--and contemplate 
all she had learned.... 
     It did get more and more interesting.... 
 
     They spoke for hours, LaCroix recounting the wonders he 
had seen with as much gusto as if he were reliving them with 
her. Then, the horrors of all that he had done, no detail 
spared to soften the impact. Hundreds of thousands had died 
to sustain him, hundreds of thousands more to soothe his 
savage lust. And as she listened intently, carefully 
guarding her reactions lest he see the fear that the images 
evoked, he seemed to grow weary from the catharsis, as if 
he'd never before laid out all the evil of his existence at 
once. And her refusal to shrink away from him, to run from 
him in fear, seemed to enthrall him. 
     "And still you do not fear me?" he asked in wonder as 
the sky outside began to grow crimson at the horizon. 
     "Do you want me to?" she countered. 
     He shook his head, then glanced out the window as if an 
inner sense had suddenly warned him of the coming dawn. "No. 
And I don't want to leave, just yet. But I must. I've 
already cut it dangerously close." 
     "Then stay," she bid him. Then, at his questioning 
look, added, "The shades work just fine. Trust me." 
 
     The Raven had yielded no answers, and Nick had remained 
on the University campus until the red tinge on the horizon 
had warned of the rising sun. Another fruitless night. And a 
killer was still on the loose. 
     It had been a bad night all around. And as he lowered 
the shades of the loft, Nick almost wondered if it wouldn't 
be better to leave them raised and let the sun take its toll 
on him. Janette's pep talk had given him an optimism which 
his brief time with Natalie had shot down completely. And as 
his thoughts went back to Natalie--as if they ever strayed 
far from her--he cursed himself again for his 
thoughtlessness and lack of tact. 
     He reached for the phone, then glanced at his watch-- 
the watch she had given him. Five forty-five a.m. After the 
shift she'd had, she'd probably be asleep by now. A few 
weeks ago, it had been normal for them to speak at all hours 
of the day or night. Now, he didn't exactly think a call 
from him would be welcome at any time. 
     But as he lay on the couch, willing sleep to come, he 
realized that it would not--not until he'd at least spoken 
to her briefly, apologized for upsetting her. Maybe she 
couldn't sleep either. Maybe calling her would be the right 
thing, the thoughtful thing to do this time.... 
     He dialed her number, holding his breath, hoping he 
wouldn't get her machine. His chest became tense as he heard 
her voice. 
     "Hello?" 
     Wide awake. Had she been waiting to hear from him? 
     "Nat, it's me. I'm sorry for calling so early, but I 
had to talk to you. Apologize for last night. 
     A long pause. 
     "It's...it's okay. Look, Nick, I really can't talk 
right now." 
     His chest tightened even more. "Natalie, are you okay?" 
     "Yes, I'm fine, it's just not a good time. I can't 
talk." 
     It hit him like ton of bricks. "Nat...is there someone 
there?" 
     Too long a pause this time. "Yes," she said finally, as 
if she'd wanted to avoid it, but couldn't. 
     For one of the few times in centuries, he found himself 
at a complete loss for words. 
     "Nick, I...have to go." 
     "I'm sorry," he stammered. "I'll...let you go, then." 
He hung up before she would have to reply. 
     And as a myriad of emotions flooded him--anger, 
jealousy, and utter shock-- he knew that only one thing 
could numb the pain. 
     And as the blood passed his lips, he wondered just how 
much it would take to assuage the beast that was waiting to 
erupt within him. 
 
     The wonder of her assaulted his senses, and he kissed 
her deeply, their bodies pressed together in a passionate 
embrace. And LaCroix knew at once that she'd awakened 
passions in him long-dead, desires he would not be able to 
control. And as he yearned to possess her flesh, to love her 
as he had dared love no one in centuries, a euphoria 
overtook him with the mere realization that he could.... 
     But as he lost himself in the taste of her skin, the 
soft scent of her hair, he realized that his kisses had 
begun to leave a trail of blood, as his emerging fangs 
grazed the soft skin of her neck. 
     Overcome with a horror that was new to him, LaCroix 
willed himself to restrain from the reflex that had been so 
natural to him for the past two thousand years. But his 
sexual and emotional desire for her had become inextricably 
intertwined with his hunger. 
     He wanted her. 
     He would have to have her. 
     Natalie's cry of pain was brief, but made him shudder. 
     He could feel his lips quivering at the first taste of 
her blood, both from the intense pleasure and equally 
intense guilt. But oh, how sweet was her life essence as it 
filled him, sating him, enveloping him in the ecstasy of his 
union with her.... 
     A weak whimper escaped from Natalie's lips, and LaCroix 
felt her body heave beneath his, even as his own trembled 
with his fulfillment. He'd tried desperately to hold back, 
to satisfy his hunger without draining her of life. But his 
desire had been uncontrollable, the taste of her blood too 
delectable, consuming him as he did her. He lay her gently 
back on the bed and reached out with trembling fingers to 
touch her neck, now bruised and bloodied. And as his senses 
told him what he'd already known, despair engulfed him. 
     He'd drained her completely. 
     He'd wanted to make love to her. She'd trusted him, 
reached out to him, accepted him, as no one had since Fleur. 
And he'd betrayed her. 
     He hadn't wanted this. Even as his teeth had broken her 
flesh, he'd wanted only to taste of her, to know her in the 
most intimate way imaginable. Even as her blood had 
invigorated him, and he'd felt her fear, somewhere in the 
back of his mind he'd imagined letting her drink of him, 
restoring her life with his own powerful essence, making her 
his for all eternity. 
     But he'd lost himself in her, and all reason had fallen 
to the wayside in his need to have her. 
     And now, she was gone forever. 
     The grief was unbearable. And as he reached down to 
kiss her lips tenderly, he could feel his eyes burning with 
the blood tears he'd forgotten he could shed. 
     "I'm sorry, Natalie," he said, in a voice choked with 
emotion. 
     But the pale, lifeless body whose essence now flowed in 
his veins could no more respond than assuage his pain.... 
 
     LaCroix awoke with a start to find himself in darkness, 
drenched in his own blood sweat. He bolted upright and 
scanned the room quickly with his preternatural vision. 
Night had fallen, but despite his disorientation, he could 
clearly make out the features of Natalie Lambert's living 
room. 
     In a panic, he rose, pushing open the door to her 
bedroom, almost unsure of what he might find. 
     He sighed in relief. On the bed, Natalie slept 
peacefully, her chest rising and falling with her breathing, 
her cat Sydney nestled in her arms. 
     It had been a dream! Or rather, a sweet fantasy that 
had become a nightmare. But how real it had seemed! And as 
he sat down beside her sleeping form, the joy at seeing her 
beautiful face flushed a healthy pink was immeasurable. Yet 
he could sense her, hear her heartbeat, smell the inviting 
scent of her blood, even more intensely than he had in his 
dream. And he knew that if he did not find sustenance 
elsewhere, Natalie's fate would be sealed. 
     "Natalie," he whispered softly, just loud enough to 
wake her without startling her. 
     Her eyes fluttered open, and again he sighed with 
relief to see her vibrancy. 
     "Is it night already?" she asked sleepily. 
     He nodded. "And I must go," he said tenderly. 
     Her hand reached up to touch him, and he grasped it 
quickly in his own. He knew she did not fear him, yet he 
feared himself. Just the touch of her hand was rousing his 
desire to have her. 
     "I...haven't fed," he said, though the effort to 
control his features was making it difficult to concentrate. 
"I'm afraid...to be near you." He raised her hand to his 
lips, brushing against it in a chaste kiss. Then, as he 
released it, he looked into her eyes in wonder at the fact 
that she had not feared for him to do so. 
     "Then go," she said softly. "I understand." 
     He nodded, rising, heading towards the door, then 
turning back to face her. "Natalie, it will be...bottled," 
he assured her, though he didn't know why he'd felt the need 
to do so. 
     Her expression became soft with an almost imperceptible 
relief. And it warmed him to know that he had pleased her. 
     But each moment he spent in her presence brought his 
nightmare closer to reality. "Good bye," he said in a husky 
voice, and hurried from her. 
     Only after he'd flown into the darkened sky did he 
allow himself the luxury of reliving in his mind the 
sensation of holding her in his dreams. And as he felt his 
eyes burn amber with his desire, he was glad that he had 
left in time. 
     He would never allow himself to get so dangerously 
close to taking her again. 
 
     She arrived with the evening sky, her yellow eyes 
ablaze with the hunger of a new night. She wanted to feed, 
to relieve the all-consuming thirst which deterred her from 
more pressing matters. But she'd come here first, her 
curiosity more compelling than her vampiric needs. 
     She had to know what had happened after she'd left. Had 
LaCroix taken the mortal woman Natalie? And if so, what 
would happen when Nicholas found out? She smiled to herself 
to realize that these two were as entertaining as they'd 
ever been. Always at odds, yet inexorably bound by blood. 
Ironic that LaCroix had learned so well the art of being the 
very thing he loathed--a ruthless and possessive master. And 
now, his relentless efforts to bring Nicholas back to the 
fold had culminated in what was truly an eternal triangle-- 
two immortals pitted against each other for the love of a 
mortal woman. 
     It was the stuff Greek tragedies were made of! If only 
Aeschylus could have written the lives of Lucius "LaCroix" 
and  Nicolas de Brabant! Humans and gods, murder, revenge, 
divine justice...even Agamemnon could not compare! 
     Hidden in the shade of the trees, she watched her eyes 
opening wide with pleasure as LaCroix hurried from the 
building and leapt into flight. He'd gone so quickly that 
she hadn't even needed to exert mind control to keep him 
from sensing her. 
     LaCroix fleeing? From whom? From what? Even if he'd 
taken the woman, what retribution could he possibly fear? 
     She rose up to the window she knew to be Natalie's. The 
sound of running water told her that the woman must be in 
the shower. So, he had not fed from her! For a brief moment, 
her hunger seemed to well up inside her, as she considered 
draining the woman herself. But she dismissed the thought. 
No point in disrupting the play that was underway. Besides, 
a University campus awaited, filled with those delicious 
young fraternity boys with whom she could toy before taking 
her sustenance.... 
     She was about to turn away from the window when the 
scent of animal blood filled her nostrils. Suddenly she saw 
it.... 
     A cat. Watching her every move, meowing his defiance. 
Surely it wouldn't be missed.... 
     "Sydney?" Natalie's voice from the bathroom sent the 
cat scurrying. 
     She cursed aloud as she fell swiftly to the ground. It 
was just as well. Better not to waste any more time here.... 
     But then she sensed him. Coming near. Anxious. Angry. 
Jealousy raging.... 
     In the shadows she hid, willing herself to be obscured 
from him. She watched as he slowly rose up to the window 
where she'd hovered just moments before, his long black coat 
flowing in the cool evening breeze. 
     She looked on in fascination at the concern that 
creased his brow, the anger in his crystal blue eyes, the 
grief on the handsome face that had moved her so many 
centuries before. She wanted more than anything to reach out 
to him, to make her presence known. Perhaps now, after all 
this time, he would see that she was the only one who truly 
loved him--not that whore upon whom he'd wasted so many 
centuries, nor this fragile being who would be withered and 
dead in a mere heartbeat of their immortal lives..... 
     The time wasn't right. But how she wanted to run her 
fingers through his hair, taste his lips, drink of his blood 
and let him drink of hers... 
     She could feel her eyes flaming red with her desire for 
him. As always. But she just could not break away.... 
     Nicholas' face seemed to fill with relief. Most likely, 
he'd seen that  Natalie was alone. Seemingly satisfied, he 
pulled himself away. 
     In moments, he was gone. 
     Time to take care of her own needs. 
     Time to feed. 
     And she would choose one who looked just like him. 
     Natalie dressed for work just a bit more slowly than 
usual, becoming lost in thought at every turn. And as she 
sat on the bed looking at her reflection, she almost felt as 
if a stranger stared back at her. For surely, Natalie 
Lambert had always had more common sense than this. "What 
the hell are you doing?" she asked her image. Sydney's meow 
was her only reply. 
     LaCroix was a killer. At any moment, as they had 
spoken, or later, as she had slept...he could have taken 
her; fed from her, then discarded her as the millions of 
lifeless husks whose essences he had drained without a 
second thought. 
     But he hadn't. 
     What did LaCroix want of her? And just as importantly, 
what did she really want of him? What did she expect, or 
hope, to come of this association? What *could* possibly 
come of it? 
     With Nick, it had been different. He'd been striving to 
become human. And she knew now that she had always secretly 
hoped to be part of that new life, long before he had 
confided sharing her dream. But with LaCroix, there was 
nowhere a relationship of any kind could lead. Friendship? 
Perhaps. Yet the attraction, the sexual tension between 
them, was undeniable. And she knew that that direction could 
only have two outcomes for her--death, or being brought 
across. The only thing she did know for certain was that 
neither was an acceptable option. 
     So what did she want from LaCroix? What drew her to 
him? He was handsome, yes. And the sophistication, the 
charm, that he exuded had little to do with his vampiric 
state. He was sexy, enthralling, and probably had been as a 
mortal. But Natalie knew it was more than even that. 
     She needed him. She craved the attention he bestowed 
upon her, the interest, the affection, the tender gestures, 
the willingness to reveal even his darkest self to her--all 
the things that she'd needed so desperately, *still wanted* 
so desperately, from Nick. *I've known him such a short 
time, and he's more concerned about me than Nick ever was,* 
she thought to herself. Yes, he definitely had all the 
qualities Nick was lacking--the maturity, the sensitivity. 
He knew how to treat a lady. 
     *Right before he kills her*, her more cautious self 
warned. 
     But he *hadn't* killed her. He'd left tonight precisely 
to keep from hurting her. 
     It felt good to be cared for. She deserved it. And 
she'd waited much too long. 
     Yet still, where *could* it all lead? 
     Nowhere. And she knew it. But she also knew that 
without LaCroix's attention right now to keep her mind off 
Nick, she'd be drowning in her own despair. And if LaCroix, 
if anyone, could save her from that, she would let him. 
     It was what she needed. And for once, *she* had to come 
first. 
     The smell of beer was sickening; even the mortal girls 
had told her so. To her, it was a necessary evil; these 
hedonistic gatherings, these so-called frat parties, were an 
ideal hunting ground. For they were replete with handsome, 
athletic young men, whom, in their intoxicated state, she 
could lead off at will with the promises of a sexual thrill 
they were constantly in search of. 
     Here, in the University setting, her appearance worked 
ideally to her advantage. For while she'd always had 
difficulty passing as a grown woman, with the proper clothes 
and makeup she was a small college freshman, the most sought 
after commodity on campus. These virile young men, she'd 
learned, were attracted to the naive, the virginal. And it 
was wonderful fun convincing them that they'd made a great 
conquest before they themselves were vanquished by a force 
greater than they could have imagined. 
     Sometimes, if she were well-fed, she could carry out 
the ruse to its conclusion, feigning innocence as she 
allowed young men to believe they had been the first to 
penetrate her child-like veneer. Other times, she would 
carry the seduction just so far, before belying her 
centuries of experience in the art of mortal lovemaking. She 
would pleasure them, astonish them... 
     ...but they never lived to tell of it. So her 
deceptions were never exposed, and she maintained them for 
her amusement, never tiring of the game. 
     She'd wanted to teach Nicholas once--show him how to 
control his hunger, to enjoy the pleasures of his former 
life. But he'd refused her. What a fool he'd been! All the 
years of abstinence he'd suffered because he'd been too 
stubborn! 
     Perhaps before all was said and done, he would change 
his mind. 
     He'd be an even greater fool not to. 
     The one she'd chosen tonight looked a lot like him, she 
mused, as the tall college sophomore led her by the hand 
into a secluded wooden area. At almost six feet, he towered 
over her. His hair was blood, curled at the bottom as 
Nicholas' had been tonight. And though his blue eyes were 
devoid of maturity, they shone with youthfulness, with life, 
every time he smiled. 
     He was adorable. 
     It was a shame he'd have to die. But then again, what 
would be the sport in seducing an ugly young man? 
     He'd been drinking vodka, and the taste of it on his 
lips was much more tolerable than the beer would have been. 
He kissed her slowly at first, hesitantly, and she pretended 
to let him take the lead. But her patience was thin tonight, 
and as she skillfully thrust her tongue in to his mouth, he 
pulled away from her in surprise. 
     "Are you sure you're a virgin?" he asked dubiously. 
     "Of  course," she replied in her high, child-like 
voice. Then, with a feigned look of concern, added, "You do 
promise to be gentle, don't you?" 
     "Mmm-hm," he mumbled as he found her lips again. In 
moments, he had pulled her down to the grass. She fought to 
keep from laughing at the awkward way in which he was 
inching his hand towards her breast, as he asked, "What did 
you say your name was, again?" 
     "Divia," she replied sweetly, looking into his eyes 
undaunted as he fondled her through her blouse. "And you?" 
     "Nicky," he replied as he fumbled with her buttons. 
     This time she broke into a smile. Too perfect. But he 
was too drunk to notice. 
     "Divia. Are you Italian?" he asked, bringing his lips 
to hers once more. 
     Divia didn't answer, instead closing her eyes to 
pretend...And as she ran her fingers through his hair, 
kissing him hungrily, she imagined that it was Nicholas who 
held her, Nicholas' hand that reached under her clothes to 
caress her flesh. And while the warm hands sent waves of 
arousal through her, she fantasized the heat that Nicholas' 
cold hands would leave in their wake.... 
     And as she thought of him, she could feel her eyes 
begin to burn, her fangs protruding even as she fought to 
keep them hidden... 
     But this young boy could not compare to her Nicholas. 
She could feel him reaching clumsily between her thighs, 
groping drunkenly, without the expertise of a grown man. The 
idiot! How could she pretend this child was Nicholas? And 
suddenly, his inability to pleasure her, to cooperate with 
her fantasy, enraged her. She had no patience for this! 
     In a moment she'd snapped his neck, bringing it to her 
thirsty lips. And she drained him mercilessly, annoyed at 
herself for having wasted so much time. 
     No one would satisfy her as Nicholas could, as he had 
that one time...When LaCroix had starved him, and Divia had 
found him, offering herself to him. They had spent a 
glorious night, their blood and flesh intermingling.... 
     When it had been over, he'd rejected her. Told her that 
it had been a mistake, that his hunger had made him lose all 
reason. He could not make love to a thirteen year old girl, 
he'd said, totally oblivious to the fact that she'd been 
over twelve hundred years old.... 
     Divia threw the lifeless form of Nicky onto the ground. 
"I am no child, Nicholas," she said aloud, her voice filled 
with venom. "And I will not prey on these boys pretending 
they are you. I *will* have you again," she vowed. "This 
time, I will have you." 
     And no one would stand in her way. 
]    Not Janette. 
     Not LaCroix. 
     And certainly not Natalie. 
 
     It was just before ten o'clock, the time she usually 
took a dinner break when she worked the late shift. Nick 
didn't know why he'd come here, except perhaps to look into 
her eyes and see if all feeling for him was truly gone. 
Schanke, as usual, had no clue. But then again, Nick had 
never told him that his feelings for Natalie went beyond 
friendship. Why should he take notice of the fact that 
they'd barely spoken in the last two weeks? 
     But as they entered the Corner's Office, it was Grace 
who met them. Nick tried to listen for Natalie's voice, for 
her heartbeat, somewhere else. He drew a blank. "Grace, we 
just came for the  autopsy report on the last victim. Has he 
been I.D.ed?" 
     She handed him the file solemnly. "Your copy, 
Detective." 
     He thanked her, taking it, opening it, going through 
the motions. But as his eyes scanned the page without 
seeing, he still listened for some sign of her. He realized 
Schanke was reading over his shoulder, and handed him the 
file, turning uncomfortably back to Grace. "Grace, is, uh, 
Natalie around? I thought if she were on her dinner break--" 
     "She is," Grace said with meaning, a twinkle in her 
eyes. "Just as I was coming in, I saw her leave with that 
new boyfriend of hers--" 
     "Wait, wait, what 'new boyfriend'?" he broke in, 
heedless of his lack of subtlety. 
     "I don't know his name," she admitted. "Or anything 
really about him. But she's been spending a lot of time with 
him lately." 
     "Lately? Since when?" he asked, in the tone of voice he 
usually reserved for interrogations. 
     "The last couple of days," she responded, looking at 
him strangely. "Detective Knight, is there something wrong?" 
     "No," he replied, deep in thought. "There's just a lot 
going on--I worry about her spending so much time with a 
stranger." 
     Grace seemed satisfied with his answer. 
     When they had left the building, Schanke turned to him, 
shaking his head. "Man, oh man, what was that third degree 
about? You'd think Natalie had been kidnapped--" 
     "I already said it, I'm just worried about her," he 
snapped, getting into the car. 
     Schanke watched his face silently for a few moments as 
they drove, before saying, "Do I detect a note of jealousy?" 
     Nick just glowered at him. Maybe Schanke wasn't as 
oblivious as he seemed. 
     "You know, I can't figure you out, Nick. I mean, 
sometimes it's Janette, sometimes it's Natalie...you know, 
you're not a college kid anymore. You can't keep stringing 
the two of them along. Sooner or later you've gotta pick 
one--" 
     No, not nearly as oblivious as he seemed. Why couldn't 
Schanke have uttered his words of wisdom two weeks ago, 
before Nick had made a mess of his life? 
     "You know, if you ask me--" 
     "I didn't," he replied mirthlessly. 
     "If you ask me," he continued, undaunted, "I think you 
should go for Natalie. I mean Janette's a hot little number, 
but Nat's really beautiful too." 
     *I know*, he agreed silently. 
     "--and smart. That's important." He paused, as if 
trying to emphasize its importance, then added, "Not to 
mention, she seems to be able to put up with you--" 
     Nick was silent. He couldn't be angry with Schanke. He 
had no way of knowing the real situation. But eventually, 
the message came through loud and clear. He didn't want to 
talk about it. 
     "Okay, okay, I'll shut up. I'm sorry. I just think you 
two belong together." 
     Nick threw him a glance, then looked away, not wanting 
to betray the sadness in his eyes. 
     *So do I, Schank. So do I.* 
 
     Janette had sensed his presence immediately, but it had 
been obvious that Nicolas wanted to be alone. So she'd 
waited patiently, perhaps more than two hours, watching as 
he'd downed glass after glass of blood. 
     Human blood. 
     Finally, she could wait no more. Perhaps he would deem 
it interference, or imagine that her intentions were 
selfish. But her concern for him at this moment outweighed 
all else. 
     He was in pain. And she couldn't bear to see that. 
     He barely seemed to notice as she slipped into the 
booth beside him, her arm coming to rest around his neck. 
"Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked gently. 
     When he looked at her, his eyes were ablaze with 
brilliant flecks of gold. "It's never enough, is it?" 
     "For you, yes," she said, taking the glass from his 
hand, and setting it down. "What happened, Nicolas? When I 
left you, you were at peace. You were going to try to make 
things work between you and Natalie. What would she say if 
she saw you like this?" 
     She'd expected her words to remind him of his goal. But 
his face was filled only with bitterness as he said, 
"Natalie wouldn't care." 
     "Oh, yes, she would," Janette assured him. 
     "Natalie has...how shall I put this? Moved on with her 
life," he said, his tone acrid. "She's found someone else, 
Janette." 
     Janette's eyes opened wide, and a slight smile creased 
her lips. "I *am* impressed." 
     "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he said 
sharply. 
     "It means that if that's the case, I have a lot more 
respect for her. Instead of letting you use her like a 
doormat, she's decided to go on with her life." 
     She knew she was being cruel. But he deserved it. How 
else to knock some sense into him?  So, Natalie had found 
herself another man. Good for her! Yet something inside her 
still doubted the likelihood that Natalie could have 
forgotten Nicolas so quickly.... 
     "I don't need to listen to this," he said, rising 
quickly, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back into 
his seat. "Nick, she's a mortal woman. With needs. Desires. 
And precious little time. I only meant that this could 
really be the best thing for her--" 
     "How could you say that when you know how I feel?" he 
retorted angrily. "I thought you said I should try to make 
it work--" 
     "I did. And with all my heart I wish it could be so, if 
that's what would make you happy. But the reality is, 
Nicolas, that nothing has changed since you met her three 
years ago. You have no more to offer her now than you did 
then. The time has been meaningless to you, as it is to all 
of us. But for a mortal woman, who sees her youth slipping 
away, three years is a long time to wait for someone who can 
offer no real commitment, no real future. If you truly love 
her, can you really stand in the way of her happiness?" 
     The anger had died from his eyes as her words had 
struck a chord in his heart. He knew that she was right. She 
reached out to touch his cheek, and he didn't pull away. 
"Nick, let her go if that's what she wants." 
     "I can't." He reached for the glass once more, emptying 
it in one shot. 
     "That's not the answer," she told him. "You don't want 
this." 
     "And I don't want to just stand by while some stranger 
takes advantage of her, maybe hurts her..." 
     "Do you even know who it is?" she asked. 
     He shook his head, as he motioned for Alma to bring him 
another bottle. "No. But I know that he..." he paused, as if 
unable to voice it, then quickly finished, "he spent the 
night in her house." 
     Janette's mouth dropped open. Natalie?! "How do you 
know?" she managed to ask. 
     "I called while he was there. But later, when I looked 
in her window, he was already gone--" 
     "You spied on her?" 
     "I was trying to protect her--" 
     She looked at him dubiously. "Protect her? From what? 
out of pure jealousy. And she'd be horrified if she knew 
that you were watching her." 
     He looked as if he were going to try to deny it, but 
realized it would be useless. "I just can't stand the 
thought of her with someone else, Janette," he admitted. 
     Janette was pensive for a moment. "You know, Nick, 
Natalie doesn't seem like the type to jump into something 
like this. Are you sure this is a love interest? Perhaps 
just a friend?" 
     He seemed to consider it a moment, but dismissed it. 
"No. Her friend at work referred to him as her new 
boyfriend." 
     "Have you asked her about it?" she suggested. 
     He shook his head vigorously. "There's no use. She 
wouldn't even talk to me...." 
     "I don't know about that." How little men understood of 
women! "If she's truly over you, which I find highly 
unlikely, then she'll have no problem speaking to you. And, 
if she does still seem upset with you, then maybe this is 
just a reaction--a rebound. In any case, it can't hurt to 
get it out in the open." She saw him think about it, then 
glance at his watch. "Where is she now?" she asked. 
     "At work," he responded. "She leaves in about an hour." 
     "Then go to her, Nicolas. Talk to her, find out what's 
going on, before you let your imagination run away with 
you." 
     He nodded his agreement, and his face softened with his 
resolution. "Okay, just one question, 'Voice of Reason'," he 
said with the trace of an impish grin on his face. "What do 
I do if the guy's there to meet her, too?" 
     She reached over to give him a quick kiss on the lips, 
glad that she had gotten through to him. "Just try not to 
kill him," she admonished with innocent eyes and a teasing 
smile. 
     She watched him leave, satisfied that he was on the 
right track again. But oh, how the irony irked her! She was 
actually dissuading him from drinking blood, and encouraging 
him to pursue Natalie! Well, as long as no one else found 
out.... 
     The truth was, that she still loved him deeply. But 
their last attempt at rekindling their relationship had 
unequivocally proven to her what her heart had always wished 
to deny--Nicolas was not hers anymore, and would never be. 
His desire to become human was no frivolous phase--it was 
his very life. And the moment he'd chosen that path, she had 
lost him. 
     As for Natalie, Janette had no doubt that this woman 
loved Nicolas as passionately as he loved her. LaCroix, 
Nick's vampirism, and she herself had gotten in their way. 
But Natalie was good for Nick--she could admit that now, 
even if she hadn't been able to in the past. And if Nicolas 
ever found his mortality again, Janette was confident that 
Natalie would love him, care for him, and fill the rest of 
his life with all the happiness he deserved. 
     How could Nick actually believe that Natalie had found 
another so quickly? Men could be so thick! And eight 
centuries had not improved Nicolas' sensitivity to women's 
needs, nor an understanding of how their minds worked.... 
Cest la vie. 
     The night had been tiresome, and dealing with Nicolas' 
depression too stressful. It was one of those rare occasions 
when the loud music had begun to irritate her, and she 
needed to escape. Telling Miklos where to find her, she left 
the dancefloor to head towards her private room. A little 
drink, some quiet...then she would be ready for the rest of 
the night, or what little was left of it. 
     But as she pushed the door open to find LaCroix seated 
at her desk, she knew that all hope of relaxation was lost. 
And as he glanced up at her with a faraway look in his eyes, 
she knew that something was wrong. 
     "What is it?" she asked, with the concern of a 
daughter. His skin was paler than usual, his eyes flecked 
with amber, as if the blood could not satisfy his need 
tonight. A half-empty bottle sat in front of him. And as he 
poured the last bit into his glass, she reached 
automatically into her portable bar to offer him another. 
"You don't look well, LaCroix," she said, kneeling beside 
him as he accepted the bottle. "Has something happened?" 
     "No. And I suppose I'm fortunate for that," he said 
mysteriously. Then, without looking at her, added, "I never 
knew how difficult it could be to control these urges. I 
never really tried. And now, when it's of utmost importance 
that I do, I'm not certain if I can." 
     "Why would you need to control them?" she asked, not 
understanding. 
     This time he turned to look into her eyes, and she 
listened intently, knowing it was so rare that he would 
expose himself thus to her, or to anyone. 
     "There's a woman. A mortal woman. I've become 
quite...taken with her." He smiled slightly, as if at the 
very thought of her, or perhaps at his own amazement over 
his feelings. 
     "And you don't want to take her?" she asked. "Make her 
one of us?" 
     He shook his head slowly. "No. That is not what she 
wants. And I will respect her wishes. 
     "Then what could come of it, LaCroix?" she dared, with 
a feeling of deja vu. Hadn't she had this conversation with 
Nick? 
     He sighed deeply, refilling his glass and taking a full 
sip. "I don't know. But I am drawn to her as I have been 
drawn to no one in eight hundred years." 
     "And you're finding it hard to control your hunger?" 
     He nodded, rising, his glass in hand. "I was at her 
house. We talked and talked, and then, when daylight came, 
she invited me to stay. What trust, Janette! To think that 
she slept peacefully, without fear that I would hurt her..." 
     A sick feeling had begun to settle over Janette. Spent 
the night? A mortal woman? "LaCroix--this woman wouldn't 
happen to be Nicolas' doctor friend, Natalie Lambert, would 
she?" 
     He looked at her in surprise, but said, "Yes." 
     Janette shook her head in disbelief. "LaCroix, how 
could you do this? You know that Nicolas is in love with 
her--" 
     "And so did you when you took him to your bed," he 
retorted sharply. 
     She ignored his comment. "You're doing this to hurt 
him." 
     "No, I am not," he replied evenly; and to her own 
astonishment, she believed him. There was a real sincerity 
in his tone, as he said, "She is a remarkable woman, 
Janette. I enjoy her company. It's as simple as that." 
     "But it's not simple," she reminded him. "How far do 
you think you can take this before your urge to feed from 
her becomes uncontrollable? And what do you think will 
happen when Nicolas finds out? He wants her back...." 
     LaCroix did not answer. Instead he finished the second 
bottle, grabbing a third to slip into his coat. A slight 
color had already begun to return to his features as the 
blood nourished him. "I must leave now," he told her. "With 
the renegade still in the city, it 's not safe for her to be 
going home alone. I promised I would meet her after work." 
     Janette's eyes opened wide as he thanked her for her 
hospitality, and left. 
     *He was going to the Coroner's Office*. 
     *So was Nicolas.* 
     With vampiric speed, Janette left the Raven, hoping it 
wouldn't be too late to stop the confrontation that was 
about to ensue. She didn't want to even think about what 
might happen if Nick got there before her. The results could 
be fatal. She just wasn't sure for whom. 
 
     Nick wasn't sure what he'd do if she weren't alone. If 
she were, they could talk. He'd contain his jealousy, his 
anger, and, if he handled things right this time, she might 
even let him take her home. A new start. That's all he 
wanted. And yet, as the taste of the blood he'd consumed 
tonight at the Raven still lingered in his mouth, he 
realized he'd made a pitiful start at turning over a new 
leaf. But if Nat were alone, if she would give him a chance, 
maybe, just maybe, he could find the impetus and the 
strength to change. 
     But if she weren't alone.... 
     His entire body tensed at the thought, and he fought to 
control the purely emotional response that would ruin 
everything. Janette had to be right; Natalie couldn't 
possibly have plunged into another relationship so soon.... 
     The hallway to her office was dimly lit, deserted. Yet 
as he strained his hearing to the limit, he could make out 
voices. Hers, pleasant, chatting away. And then.... 
     No! It couldn't be. The fury rose into his throat, 
erupting in a vicious growl meant for only *him* to hear: 
     "Stay away from her, LaCroix!" 
 
     Natalie looked up in confusion as something caused 
LaCroix to cock his head to the side, then turn towards the 
door. But in a moment, everything was terribly clear as Nick 
burst in, his fangs extended, an ugly rage transforming his 
features. She gasped as Nick grabbed LaCroix by the 
shoulders, tossing him across the room.  Glass tubes crashed 
to the floor, papers flew. And more quickly than her vision 
could follow, LaCroix was on his feet, lunging at Nick, 
shoving him into a gurney. 
     "What the hell do you think you're doing here?!" Nick 
snarled, his eyes blood red with his fury. "If you've hurt 
her in any way--" 
     "Nicolas, no!" Janette cried, coming up behind him. 
     "Stay out of this, Janette!" he shouted, never taking 
his eyes from LaCroix. 
     *This can't be happening*, Natalie thought to herself 
in panic. She'd dreaded this moment, feared it. But now, all 
she could feel was rage. How dare he interfere in her life 
like this! And worse, much worse, how dare he bring *her* 
here.... 
     The sight of Janette, her hand delicately placed on 
Nick's arm to restrain him, infuriated her. And as that 
image came up before her again, of Janette and Nick lying 
naked together in a union of blood and flesh, her heart rose 
up into her throat, nearly gagging her. So this was how he 
had changed? So this was how he had ended things with 
Janette?! She watched in blind fury as Nick and LaCroix 
circled one another, like two wild animals poised for 
attack. 
     "I am here at Natalie's invitation," LaCroix spat at 
Nick, his own eyes amber. "It is you who are intruding where 
you're not wanted." 
     "You lying bastard!" he growled, ready to strike. 
     "Nick, no!" This time, it was Natalie's voice that 
interrupted. And as Nick looked on in shock, she placed her 
hand on LaCroix's arm. "You too, LaCroix!" she commanded. 
     LaCroix obeyed, retreating from a stunned Nick and 
Janette. 
     "Natalie?" Nick asked, searching her eyes in disbelief. 
     "Nick, LaCroix is here because I asked him to be. I 
wanted him to be. And you had no right barging in here like 
that!" 
     Astonishment washed over his face, replaced almost at 
once by a new anger, as the full realization hit him. "You?" 
he hissed at LaCroix. "You're the one she's been spending 
time with?" He looked at Natalie desperately. "Nat, are you 
out of your mind? You know what he is!" 
     "Yes, I do," she responded defiantly. "And I know it's 
nothing like what you told me..." 
     "He's using you, Nat! He's doing this to get to me!" 
     LaCroix shook his head, almost in amusement. "Nicholas, 
if you truly believe that, then you've underestimated this 
young woman greatly. I assure you this has nothing to do 
with you--" 
     "You're doing this to hurt me, Nat," he accused, his 
face filled with pain. 
     "Why do you always have to think everything revolves 
around you?!" she cried angrily, refusing to have any guilt 
placed on her in this situation.  "Do you find it so hard to 
believe that another man might enjoy spending time with me?" 
     "No, Natalie," LaCroix broke in. "He just can't accept 
that you've found there's 'life after Nicholas'." 
     "Well, there is," she said, her glare fixed on Nick. 
"And you have no right to interfere in my life anymore." 
     "Natalie," he said, stepping towards her, trying a 
calmer approach. "Listen to me. I know him. He's doing this 
to come between us!" 
     "You can stand there with *her* and talk to me about 
*us*? Nick, there is no *us* to come between," she reminded 
him harshly. "You saw to that. And so did she," she added, 
motioning to Janette. "So there's nothing between us now. No 
romance. No friendship. Nothing." 
     It was an effort now to look into his eyes, so filled 
with the anguish of what he perceived to be the ultimate 
betrayal. She knew that if he didn't leave soon, she would 
burst into tears. But she couldn't. Not in front of him. Not 
in front of *them*. It irked her enough to know that all 
three of them could hear the pounding of her heart, 
quickening even now as he moved closer to her. 
     "Nat, you can't mean that," he began, reaching out for 
her. 
     She recoiled from him. She couldn't let him touch her. 
She couldn't let him see just how his touch, his gaze, could 
still move her. Then he'd know just how difficult this was, 
and know the turmoil in her soul. "I want you to leave me 
alone," she said, measuring every word. "Just let me try to 
forget about the last three and a half years, and go on with 
my life!" 
     "I won't leave you alone with him," he growled. 
     "Nicolas,  he won't hurt her," Janette told him, moving 
up beside him. "Maybe it would be best if we  left." 
     Janette's willingness to take him away served only to 
fuel Natalie's anger. And despite her best efforts to 
contain her resentment, she found herself saying, "Yes, 
Nick, and if you're having trouble with all this, I'm sure 
Janette will be more than happy to comfort you." 
     "That's not fair, Natalie," Janette broke in. 
     "No," Natalie agreed bitterly, looking at her for the 
first time. "But then, neither is what you did to us." 
     Nick looked deeply into her eyes, as if searching for 
some vestige of her love for him. She would give him none. 
She couldn't. She'd worked too hard to obscure it from him, 
from herself.  Finally, he stepped back, as if ready to 
withdraw, defeat on his face. But as his eyes met LaCroix's, 
he exuded only hatred. 
     "I won't let you hurt her," he told LaCroix. "As long 
as I live I will protect her from you. And if any harm comes 
to her--I *will* kill you." 
     It was a statement of fact, more than a threat. LaCroix 
merely looked at him unperturbed. "I would never harm her," 
he responded, caressing her hair purposely to watch Nick 
seethe.   Natalie knew what he was doing; feeling suddenly 
uncomfortable, she stepped away from him, looking into 
Nick's eyes. 
     "I really want you to go," she said steadily, trying 
not to let her voice break with her heart. "And unless it's 
police business, I don't want you to come back." 
     "Come, Nicolas," Janette urged, practically tugging at 
his coat sleeve. 
     And as he reluctantly left the room, Natalie could feel 
him drawing a part of her with him. 
 
     The tears rose to her eyes as LaCroix came up behind 
her to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Shall I take you home 
now, Natalie?" he asked gently. 
     She nodded silently without looking at him. 
     This was all wrong. In her soul, she knew. Nick leaving 
with Janette, and LaCroix her only comfort, her only 
companion.... 
     How had they ever come to this? 
     How would she ever set it all right again? 
 
     They'd hardly spoken at all on the car ride back to her 
apartment. LaCroix had offered to drive, and she'd let him, 
sinking into the seat, her head pressed uncomfortably 
against the passenger window. She was distancing herself 
from him, from everyone, burying herself in her own 
thoughts. She'd barely noticed that the car had stopped when 
he reached over to place his hand on hers. "Natalie, we're 
home." 
     She turned to him, to his face filled with concern for 
her, and smiled weakly. "Not bad driving for a guy who 
probably doesn't even have a license." 
     "Oh, I believe I had one in the 1960's--but it expired 
over twenty years ago," he replied, apparently relieved that 
her sense of humor was intact. He stepped out of the car, 
coming around to hold the door for her, taking her hand as 
he walked her inside. 
 
     Divia knew what was coming. And it fascinated her, just 
as the whole situation had from the moment she'd found them 
in Toronto. Tonight, she'd followed her father to the 
Coroner's Office, where she'd heard the hostilities between 
LaCroix and Nicholas come to a head. She'd expected a 
battle; Natalie's power to control the both of them was 
impressive. She'd heard the mortal woman reject Nicholas, 
and had followed as LaCroix had driven her home. But she 
knew her father--her childe--too well. He'd restrained 
himself last night; could he truly keep from taking her 
blood tonight? Divia doubted it. And for all her strength, 
the woman seemed to be wearing down. Too distraught over 
Nicholas, would she be able to resist LaCroix? 
     Divia wasn't sure. But it would be interesting to 
watch.... 
 
     He'd driven her back to the Raven without a word, 
following her inside, then heading straight to his favorite 
table. Helplessly, Janette watched as he motioned for the 
waitress to bring him a bottle. His eyes were deep amber, 
his expression a mask of anger. Even after the first bottle 
had been emptied, his facade remained unchanged. And still 
he asked for more. 
     "Nicolas," she said quietly, coming finally to sit 
beside him. "You don't need this." 
     He turned to face her, acknowledging her for the first 
time in two hours. "Yes, I do," he replied in a voice lower 
than his own. 
     "You're only giving in to what he wants," she reminded 
him, hoping that that alone would be enough to make him 
stop. 
     "No, Janette," he told her, an evil gleam in his eye. 
"I'm making myself stronger. Because I'm going to have to 
fight him now. I'm going to have to kill him." 
     "Nick, you can't! Are you out of your mind? You tried 
once. 
He's much too old and powerful. He can't be destroyed--" 
     "Oh, I'll find a way," he assured her. 
     "Nicolas, this is foolishness--" 
     "Oh, really?" 
     "I know you care about Natalie--" she began. 
     "I *love* her, Janette. And right now she's with him. 
At any moment he might kill her--or bring her across. Do you 
think I can rest until she's safe?" 
     "There's nothing you can do. She chooses to be with 
him--" 
     He shook his head in frustration. "She doesn't 
understand. She doesn't know what he's capable of." 
     "She's not stupid, Nicolas." 
     "No. She's very brave. And, Natalie always sees the 
good in everyone. In me. Even in LaCroix." 
     "There is good in him, Nick. And he really is taken 
with her. I don't think you have to worry. He doesn't want 
to hurt her." 
     "But he might anyway," he responded, and she could not 
argue. LaCroix had never *bothered* to worry about letting 
his hunger get out of control. She remembered LaCroix's 
words--that he was finding it hard to contain his desires-- 
and she shivered. Was that why he had drunk so much tonight? 
To have his fill? 
     "But he said he would never bring her over--because 
that's not what she wants," she said aloud, although trying 
to convince herself more that Nick. 
     He looked at her. "He told you this?" 
     "Only right after you left. He came here upset, 
preoccupied. When I realized the woman he was talking about 
was Natalie, and that he was going there tonight to meet 
her, I went to try to stop the two of you from fighting." 
     He gave her a wan smile in spite of himself. "Always 
trying to keep the peace between us." 
     "No. Just trying to keep you both alive. Although 
perhaps as far as you and Natalie are concerned, I did more 
harm than good. She probably thinks we're still together." 
She paused. "I'm sorry." 
     He shrugged it off. "It's all right. You were trying to 
help. And I appreciate it. But I want you to stay out of 
this now, Janette. It's between me and him." He rose to 
leave. 
     And as Janette watched him go, a real fear gripped her. 
He was a loose cannon now, and LaCroix could set him off 
with the slightest wrong move. And as usual, when it came to 
their eternal conflict, Janette felt totally useless. 
Nicolas had his own mind, and no one could control LaCroix. 
     The only one who had been able to was long gone. 
     But there was something she could do. And though it 
would mean putting herself at great risk of incurring 
LaCroix's wrath, she owed it to Nicolas. She had betrayed 
him too often out of fear of LaCroix. Now, when Nick needed 
her most, she would not let him down. For if Natalie were to 
die, or be brought across, it would destroy him. 
     Janette was not about to let that happen. 
 
     She poured herself a drink, knowing the wine would calm 
her nerves. She needed to relax, to pull herself together, 
to repress the emotions that were raging within her. And 
most of all, she had to maintain her control in front of 
*him*. She wouldn't break down in front of LaCroix. For as 
much as she'd grown to like him, to trust him, an inner 
voice kept warning her not to reveal any weakness to him. 
     She'd had a hell of a job trying to do that lately. 
But he was so damned compassionate and understanding! This 
wasn't the LaCroix Nick had described to her. Had Nick never 
seen this side of him? Or was she the most gullible fool 
alive, the victim of LaCroix's deception? 
     She didn't want to believe the latter. She needed him 
to be there for her. There was no one else. And as he came 
up behind her at the bar, resting his hands on her 
shoulders, she knew just how desperately she needed his 
comfort. His fingers began to massage her in artful strokes, 
and she could feel the tension rolling away. She breathed 
deeply, stretching her neck forward as he found her tightest 
spots. "That feels so good," she said softly. "Thank you." 
     "I'm sorry that tonight had to be so difficult for 
you," he said with real regret in his voice. 
     "Oh, it's not your fault," she said wearily, enjoying 
his touch more than she wanted to admit. "Just do me one 
favor; the next time you decide to have a family reunion, 
please don't invite me." 
     He turned her around to face him, taking her wine glass 
and setting it down. There was wonder in his eyes as he 
smiled slightly at her joke. "Your ability to find humor in 
all this amazes me." 
     "Well, I guess laughing is a lot better than crying, 
isn't it?" she replied. 
     His fingers were playing with the hair that fell 
loosely about her neck, and as his cool hands began to 
caress her skin, the waves of heat emanating from them made 
her shiver. 
     LaCroix seemed to misinterpret the flutter of her 
heart. "Don't be afraid," he said softly, moving his hands 
up to her face, as if he thought that might be less 
threatening. 
     "I'm not," she answered honestly. "At least not of 
you." 
     He moved closer to her, as if he knew suddenly she 
wouldn't fear him doing so. "Then of what?" he asked, 
turning her face upwards so that she could look into his 
eyes. 
     "Of this..." she responded simply, almost in a hushed 
whisper. 
     "I only wish to make you forget about Nicholas, and all 
the pain he has caused you." 
     He had no way of knowing that Nick was far from her 
thoughts at this moment. But still, LaCroix's way of making 
her forget was not an option. "We've been through this," she 
breathed, trying not to react to the waves of arousal that 
his touch was sending through her. "No hypnotism..." 
     "No," he promised. "That's not what I had in mind..." 
     And as his lips crushed against hers, she knew that 
this had been inevitable. Since the night in Azure, she had 
known that there was a sexual tension between them that 
would have to be reckoned with. The night he had spent in 
her apartment had confirmed it, as they'd responded to each 
other's pain, reaching out with the emotional support that 
both had needed so desperately for so very long. Now, as he 
drew her into his arms, she laced her own around his neck, 
kissing him hungrily, wanting nothing more than to surrender 
to her own physical and emotional needs. 
     "I won't hurt you, Natalie," he whispered in her ear. 
"I am older than Nicholas--and I know how to control my 
hunger to bring you more pleasure than he ever could. But 
only if you wish it." 
     Could this be real? Could she trust him? 
     She did. She had too. She needed him too much, wanted 
him too much.... 
     She reached for his lips once more. 
 
     He'd lifted her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her 
into the bedroom. Now, as they lay in each other's embrace, 
Natalie knew she could hide nothing from him. She knew that he 
could hear the pounding of her heart, feel the urgency of her 
kiss. She wanted him, and the thought both terrified and 
excited her. 
        "Don't be afraid," he whispered again, sensing her fear. 
"I won't hurt you." 
        Was he trying to convince her, or himself? At this 
moment, it didn't matter. All that existed were the cool fingers 
brushing against her skin, the cool lips that belied the heat of 
his kiss. Even through their clothes, Natalie could feel his 
arousal urgently attempting to meet her own, as their bodies 
pressed together. How long had it been since she'd felt this way, 
been so close to someone, so near to the intimacy that had been 
lacking from her life? His hands found their way below her 
blouse, caressing her masterfully, his contact with her bare 
flesh sending waves of desire through her entire being. How long 
had it been....? 
        The answer came to her in a jolt. *Valentine's Day.* But 
then it had been Nick's lips searching out her own, Nick's hands 
exploring her with wonder....  So close to fulfilling each other 
before the beast had begun to emerge.... 
        A sudden sadness overwhelmed her. She needed LaCroix. She 
needed *this*. But she still *wanted* Nick, still *loved* him. 
Would it ever stop? Would she ever be free of it....? 
        She tried to ignore it, concentrate on LaCroix, as his 
mouth moved downward to taste her flesh, and his hands continued 
on their journey, seeking new ways to pleasure her. It would be 
so easy to lose herself to him, give in to the thrill of this 
moment, give into the almost painful desire to meld with him.... 
        LaCroix looked up suddenly, and into her eyes. She could 
see the gold flecks of his desire, and yet knew that his passion 
came from the man, not the vampire. And it was the man within 
him, the sensitive being, who gazed at her now, with a concern 
almost equal to his longing for her. "What is it, Natalie?" he 
asked tenderly. 
        "Nothing," she attempted the lie, knowing it would fail 
to convince him. 
        He shook his head, his eyes filled with regret. "You're 
not ready for this, are you?" 
        She could feel the tears of frustration rising to her 
eyes. "I want to forget him. I just--" 
        He silenced her with a sudden kiss that took her breath 
away. When he separated from her, she knew that he had meant that 
kiss to be his last tonight. 
        "LaCroix, I care about you. I want to be with you. But--" 
        "You still love Nicholas," he finished for her with a 
bittersweet smile. "I know that. I wanted to make you forget. But 
the endurance of your love, your loyalty, is one of your most 
desirable qualities. You would have regretted betraying 
him--betraying yourself. I know that now." 
        She knew he was right, and hated herself for it. "I want 
to be free of him. I want to go on with my life," she said, 
trying to choke back the emotion. 
        "You will be," he told her, stroking her hair 
affectionately. "In time. And time, my sweet Natalie, is about 
the only thing I do have." 
        He rose from the bed. And as she knew he meant to leave, 
she stood to face him, reaching up to put her hands on his face. 
"LaCroix, I'm sorry," she said softly. "And...I don't want this 
to be the end between us." 
        He placed his hands over hers.  "No. It's only the 
beginning." 
        He kissed her once more before vanishing into the night. 
        Natalie collapsed back on the bed, all emotion spent. And 
only now that he was gone could she think clearly, and know that 
he had been right. She would have regretted making love to him. 
For as soon as the thrill of it had gone, Nick would still be 
there, in her heart, in her mind, in her desires. And as much as 
she loved him, she hated him for his hold on her. He'd thought 
nothing of betraying her...and yet his very memory stood in the 
way of her going on with her life. 
        If only being with LaCroix could have pushed all thoughts 
of Nick from her mind! 
        But it wouldn't have. She knew that now. And she knew 
that the time had come to make a decision, one way or the other. 
 
        Divia watched him leave, barely able to contain her 
laughter. How weak his love for this woman had made him! The 
Lucius she had known, the father she had loved and emulated, 
would have had his way with this woman, then tossed her aside. 
The LaCroix she had known would have climaxed by draining her 
blood. What power this woman had over both Nicholas and LaCroix! 
        What an ideal weapon to use against them both.... 
 
        The crowd at the Raven had begun to dissipate, with dawn 
just three hours away. LaCroix ignored those giving him a passing 
nod of respect as he made his way to the bar. Miklos spotted him 
at once, and poured him a glass of human blood. LaCroix downed it 
instantly, and held out his glass as Miklos refilled it. 
        Why wasn't it assuaging his hunger? What was happening to 
him? 
        But he knew. In his heart, so cold until she had warmed 
it, he knew. It was more than vampiric hunger which tormented him 
now. 
        He wanted Natalie. And he would not be satisfied until he 
had her. 
        How close he had come to possessing her! But the time 
wasn't right. He would not take her unless she desired it. And as 
long as she loved Nicholas, she would desire no one else. 
        The fool that Nicholas was! To have had her heart, and 
betrayed her! The pure waste of it infuriated him. 
        But a part of him was glad that he had not made love to 
her. For his nightmare still lingered in his mind. And though he 
knew control, the control that Divia herself had taught him, he 
had never feared so much that he would be unable to stop. And the 
thought of destroying her was abhorrent to him right now. 
        But if she would let him bring her over.... 
        He forced the secret wish from his mind. For it was only 
that. He could no more destroy her purity, her humanity, than 
Nicholas could. 
        He barely felt Janette come up behind him. "Are you all 
right?" she was asking. "You're so pale...." 
        He looked at her, her face filled with concern. "Nothing 
that more of this won't cure," he replied dully, raising his 
glass for Miklos to refill. 
        There was still a question in her eyes, and he decided to 
answer it. "She is unharmed, Janette. You needn't be concerned." 
        "But I am, LaCroix," she dared. "This is foolishness. 
Where can it lead? And if you do kill her, it will destroy 
Nicolas. Just knowing that you're with her is tearing him apart." 
        "Why, Janette... I thought you'd be thrilled to have 
Natalie occupied. You can have Nicholas all to yourself," he 
taunted her, as he turned his attention back to his drink. 
        He knew she was fuming as she replied sharply, "I won't 
waste my time on someone who is in love with another. It's 
foolishness. Wouldn't you agree, LaCroix?" 
        He glared at her, and felt satisfaction as he saw a touch 
of fear cross her eyes. But he merely responded, "I will not hurt 
her, Janette. But this has nothing to do with Nicholas. Or you. 
The real foolishness would be to interfere in my affairs. 
Wouldn't *you* agree?" 
        Janette was silent. She knew better than to press 
further. 
        "Miklos! A bottle!" he growled. And taking it in his 
hand, he left. 
 
        It had been useless to even try to sleep. Her mind was 
racing with thoughts of LaCroix, of Nick....of what she had 
almost done. And though her body still ached for the contact, she 
could feel only relief that they had not consummated their 
relationship. She'd wanted it, almost given into it...but 
attraction, need, even the affection she felt for him, were not 
enough. She didn't love him. 
        If she made love to LaCroix, Nick would consider it the 
ultimate betrayal. And it would be, she knew. She would not hurt 
him like that, betray him, for a night of passion. 
        Even though that was precisely what Nick had done to her. 
        The irony of it enraged her! A part of her wished she 
could hurt him, make him feel the anguish that he had inflicted 
upon her. Yet, a need for revenge had never been a part of her 
makeup. And she knew now that her love for him would not just go 
away, no matter how much she wished it would. 
     She thought of him now, remembering the pain and fury in his 
eyes. She'd had every right to be cruel to him--but she knew 
she'd let her anger make her say things she now regretted. 
     Where had he gone? Where was he now? 
     The thought that he might be with Janette had been nagging 
at her all night, and only now did she address it. Could she 
really blame him if he was? Hadn't she cut him off completely, 
rejected him, made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with 
him? 
     In essence, she'd handed him to Janette on a platter. 
     There was only one way to know. To cure herself of him 
completely, or know if it was her destiny to be with him. 
        She grabbed her bag and car keys. Maybe this was crazy. 
But all caution had already been thrown to the wind. Besides, the 
night couldn't get any stranger than it already had.... 
 
     The lights were off in her apartment, and he stood for a 
moment wondering what he should do. Why had he come here? Why was 
he torturing himself? 
     Because he had to know. He had to see for himself. And if 
what he suspected were true, if LaCroix were here with her.... 
        Just the thought sent a stabbing pain through his 
stomach. Nick knew very well what he would do. He would kill him. 
Without thinking. Without mercy. LaCroix would die for daring to 
touch her. 
        He lifted himself to her bedroom window, barely breathing 
as he looked inside. 
        She wasn't there. But his relief at not finding her with 
LaCroix was immediately overshadowed by worry. Where was she? 
        There was no heartbeat, no scent of her. The apartment 
was empty, save for her cat. Sydney watched him, nonplused, as he 
searched the apartment for some clue.... 
        But there was none. And panic began to set in.... 
 
        She'd sat outside the warehouse for ten minutes, watching 
at his windows for a sign of life. But there was none. Finally, 
she'd rung the door buzzer, although she had no idea what she'd 
say if he were home. But she was spared the awkwardness of the 
situation. 
        He wasn't there. 
        "Oh well, he must be with Janette", she said aloud to no 
one but herself. 
        Now she truly didn't know what to do.  And as she drove 
home, blinking to keep back the tears, she promised herself that 
she would never put herself through this again. 
 
        He'd gone to the Raven. No sign of LaCroix. And Janette 
had tried to reassure him that the last she'd heard, Natalie was 
safely at home. 
        "She's not," he insisted, panic-stricken. "And I want to 
know where to find LaCroix." 
        "Nick, I don't know," she said, trying to calm him. "But 
I really don't think you have anything to worry--" 
        The ringing of his cellular phone cut her off. He pulled 
it out anxiously.  "Knight," he answered. 
        "*Nick, it's Schanke. There's been another one on the 
University Campus.  Pretty gruesome. Captain wants you to meet us 
down there.*" 
        He took a deep breath. "Look, Schank, I've got a personal 
emergency here--" 
        "*What the hell's going on with everybody tonight? 
Natalie didn't want to come in either--*" 
        His mouth dropped open. "Wait, she's there?" 
        "*On her way. Look, Nick, if it's really important--*" 
        "No. It's okay," Nick cut him off. "I'll be right there." 
        He put away the phone, looking up at Janette. "She's 
okay." 
        "I told you not to worry," she said, although relief had 
seemed to wash over her face as well. "Nicolas, you can't do this 
to yourself. You can't know where she is every minute." 
        "I have to." Why wasn't clear to her that Natalie was in 
danger? 
        "Nick, she wants to spend time with him. It's her 
choice," she tried tactfully to remind him. 
        His expression grew even darker than it had been. "No," 
he told her adamantly. "It's him. He knows she's upset... He's 
taking advantage of her, to get to me." 
        Janette was silent, and he knew that it meant she 
disagreed with him, but wouldn't press it further. 
        "Janette, you don't know her. She wouldn't betray me like 
that. Not Natalie." 
        "She's a woman, Nicolas. With feelings...needs. LaCroix 
can be very charming--" 
        "There's been another murder," he broke in, deliberately 
changing the subject. "Has there been any word?" 
        She shook her head, knowing she'd pushed him too far. 
"No. No one has heard anything." 
        "I'll let you know what I find out. And Janette, if you 
do see LaCroix, tell him I want to speak to him." 
        He left before giving her time to respond. 
 
        The body was like all the others. A boy, really, probably 
no more than nineteen, with the tell-tale wounds that she had 
found and quickly hidden under the collar of his shirt. Another 
victim. What kind of monster could do this? Destroy a life that 
had barely just begun....? 
        His hand on her shoulder startled her, and she stood up 
too quickly. 
        "Sorry, I..." 
        His voice trailed off as they looked into each other's 
eyes. Searching.... 
        "It's the same as the others," she said quietly, breaking 
the eye contact.  "Death occurred probably 24 hours ago. I don't 
know how many more of these I can--" 
        "Nat." 
        She looked into his eyes once more. Damn his power over 
her! His ability to turn her love into hatred, then rip her 
emotions from her yet again...to find the last vestiges of her 
love for him, hidden under the careful veneer which her anger had 
created. Just with a touch, a glance....those blue eyes...his 
rage now abated, replaced with the concern that made him so 
endearing.... 
        "Are you all right?" he asked. 
        She wouldn't let him do it so easily. She wouldn't let 
him control her. "Why shouldn't I be?" she asked coolly, forcing 
the wall up between them once more. 
        "LaCroix. I thought--" He was at a loss for words. 
        "You thought wrong,' she replied, turning back to her 
work. 
        She knew he was watching her. Let him. Was this to ease 
his guilty conscience? Did this feeble attempt to protect her 
from LaCroix--after the fact--somehow alleviate his guilt over 
having been with Janette? "So, did she know anything?" she asked, 
knowing damn well it was out of spite. 
        "What?" He had no clue. 
        "Janette," she said, turning back to him. "That's where 
you were, isn't it? The Raven?" 
        She could see the anger rising, and knew that she had 
been right. Had there really been the slimmest hope that she 
would be wrong? It didn't matter. He *had* been with Janette. And 
the longing for him, the desire to bury the past, slipped deeper 
into the recesses of her heart. He wouldn't change. Nothing had 
changed, nor would it ever. She turned away from him, but he 
grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn to him. 
        "I don't think where *I* was tonight is the issue," he 
said in a hushed whisper, knowing that he'd probably already 
drawn attention. 
        "No, it's not," she said angrily. "Because I don't care. 
And wherever *I* was is none of your business either!" With that 
she pulled away from him, glad that Schanke and the others were 
approaching. And as she settled behind the wheel of her car, she 
could see him...surrounded by others, yet watching her, his face 
a mask of silent rage. 
        *He was at my apartment*, she thought to herself. *He 
knows I wasn't there.* What else had he seen? 
        She didn't want to think about it. Whatever he had seen, 
however it had hurt him.... 
        She didn't care. Not anymore. He deserved it. 
 
        He sat alone on the grass, a myriad of dark emotions 
flowing through his soul. The others had long gone, and he knew 
by the slight pink tinge that had emerged at the horizon, that he 
should be on his way. But he couldn't move. He didn't want to. 
        She had been with LaCroix. While he had gone out of his 
mind with worry, she had been with *him*. And Janette was right. 
He wasn't controlling her. He wasn't taking advantage of her.... 
        She *wanted* to be with him. 
        She knew what he was. She knew what he was capable of. 
And she knew how LaCroix had tortured him, tormented him through 
the centuries. His father.  His maker. 
        His enemy. 
        Yet she chose to be with him. 
        The thought was unbearable. She could not, *could never*, 
betray him like this. 
        Yet she had. And no betrayal had ever wounded him so 
deeply. 
        So many times he'd accused her of such; of using him, of 
trying to control him--but in his heart, he had always known it 
was his own pain, his own darker side, making him say things he 
did not truly believe. He had trusted her as no other. And now... 
        He didn't think he could trust anyone ever again. 
        "My poor Nicholas." 
        The voice had come from nowhere, stirring him from his 
self-pity. But as soon as he'd registered the source, her soft 
tones that he could never forget, she was before him. The same 
ancient eyes, the same youthful beauty.  The same incomparable 
evil. 
        "Divia," he whispered. 
 
        He stood in utter shock to see the ancient vampire, who 
still looked no more than a girl of thirteen. And suddenly, the 
pieces fell into place. "You...so you're the one behind all 
this," he accused. 
        She smiled sweetly, reaching up to put her arms around 
his neck. "Really, Nicholas, is that any way to greet me after 
six hundred years?" 
        He pushed her away roughly. "You murdered innocent young 
men...children..." 
        "And you never killed to survive?" she asked innocently. 
        "There are other means now. You know that--" 
        "Oh, yes. I believe your harlot friend does supply 
bottled blood to the community--although I hardly think she'd 
want to see *me* step through her door." 
        He shook his head. Still jealous of Janette, wasn't she? 
"You can't go on killing mortals like this. The community will 
not allow it. Nor will the Enforcers." He stepped closer to her.  
"Nor will I." 
        "I only wished to get your attention," she said coyly. 
"And I have, haven't I?" 
        "Yes, you *have*," he said in disgust, amazed that she 
still functioned on the level of a child. An evil, powerful 
child. "So then you can stop it, *now!*" 
        "If you wish," she said, with as much boredom as if he 
had asked her to extinguish a cigarette. Again, those innocent 
eyes. It sickened him. "Perhaps you can put in a good word for me 
with Janette, then? I suppose I will need blood." Her fingers 
went to his neck as she pressed her body against his seductively. 
"Unless you're willing to...share?" 
        He pulled her off, and the smile faded from her face, 
replaced by  a look of contempt. "Still so self-righteous, aren't 
we? After all these centuries. And still treating me as if I were 
a child. I have had thousands of men in my lifetime," she 
boasted. Then, when he failed to react, she added, "And you, 
Nicholas...have you learned yet how to make love to a woman 
without taking her blood?" 
        He didn't answer. But he knew by the cruel smile that 
crossed her lips that she could see his rage building. 
        "I didn't think so," she said dully, then added, "I 
suppose that's why your little mortal friend has turned to 
LaCroix. He does, after all, know how to pleasure a woman. I 
taught him that." 
        "You don't know what you're talking about," he replied, a 
little too defensively. 
        "Oh, I've seen them together. My father, and your little 
Natalie. Only last night they were in her apartment...*making 
love*..." Her eyes lit up with amusement. "It was rather sweet, 
actually. The poor thing must have been very frustrated with your 
inability to pleasure her...you should have seen the passion 
between them!" 
        "Stop it!" he cried, grabbing her by the arms. 
        He'd almost forgotten her strength until she freed 
herself easily from his grip. But when she met his eyes, it was 
only with compassion that she responded. 
        "I know you're hurt, Nicholas," she said, reaching up to 
his cheek to caress it. "You loved her, and she betrayed you. So 
did he, by taking her. But *I'm* here for you. I always have 
been--" 
        "You're lying," he growled, grabbing her by the wrist. 
        "No, Nicholas. I'm the only one who *is* honest with 
you--" 
        "You forget how well I know you, Divia!" he said, 
releasing her. 
        This time, her displeasure was evident. "You'll see, 
Nicholas. I am right.  She has betrayed you with him." 
        "Never," he spat at her with certainty. But as he rose 
into the air, leaving her behind, he could feel his eyes burning 
deep amber. And the doubt she had planted in his mind was 
sufficient to ignite a flame of fury that would blaze within him 
until he knew the truth. 
 
        The sun had barely set when Natalie heard her doorbell 
chime. She smiled to herself, wondering if it was LaCroix--he had 
learned this mortal convention quite easily. But her smile faded 
as she opened the door to find Janette standing in the hallway. 
        "Natalie. May I come in?" Her voice was cordial, her 
expression emotionless.  Dressed in a fine black silk dress, with 
dark sunglasses and a leather jacket with fur trim, she seemed 
quite out of place here. Yet in her sweats and T-shirt, Natalie 
was the one who felt awkward, self-conscious. But then again, who 
was here to compare them? 
        "Sure. Come in," Natalie responded, stepping aside and 
motioning for her to sit down. 
        She couldn't help but notice Janette giving the apartment 
a once-over, but the vampire merely said, "Very nice.  
Very...homey." 
        "I'm sure you didn't come here to get a tour of my 
apartment," Natalie said tersely, wanting her to get to the point 
of her visit. 
        "All right," Janette said, taking off her sunglasses and 
setting them in her lap. "You know this isn't a social call. I've 
come to talk to you about Nicolas." 
        Natalie averted her gaze, although she knew even this 
gesture was telling. And she wished she could hide the hurt in 
her voice as she said, "Look, there's nothing to talk about. You 
wanted him. You've got him. Period."  
        "Natalie, please." Her tone was kind. 
        Natalie looked back at her, responding to a seeming 
sincerity she hadn't expected. She sat down across from her. 
"Janette, there's nothing for us to talk about." 
        "Yes, there is. I know how much you were hurt by what you 
saw that night in the club--" 
        "Do you really?" she asked dubiously. 
        "Yes. I may not be mortal. But I am a woman. I can 
love...and I can suffer.  And I have done both where he is 
concerned, at one time or another." 
        Natalie shook her head ruefully. "He's yours now, 
Janette. So you have nothing to worry about." She paused. "I just 
hope that if he ever decides he wants to become human 
again...that you'll respect that, and not stop him." 
        "He has never stopped wanting to be human...or loving 
you." 
        "Oh, please--" Did Janette think her a fool? 
        "I'm serious. Natalie, I know you're angry. And in pain. 
Hate *me*, if you must. But don't hate Nick. He loves you 
deeply." 
        "I...don't hate you, Janette," she responded honestly. 
"Nick knew what he was doing." 
        She sighed. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. But he does know it 
was a mistake. Just as I do. Our time together is over, and was a 
long time ago." 
        "Come on, Janette. I can't believe that. He was with you 
last night." Even saying it aloud brought back the pain. As if it 
ever left her. 
        Janette's eyes opened wide. "Is that what you think? 
Natalie, he came to the Raven last night looking for you--" 
        She had to keep from laughing nervously as she said, "Oh, 
yeah, I go there all the time--" 
        "He thought you were with LaCroix," she supplied quickly. 
        Natalie became sober. "I...I was. For a while. But he 
left my apartment around two or three." 
        "Nick came looking for you. You weren't home." 
        She took a deep breath. "I went to his place looking for 
him." She didn't know why she admitted this to Janette, but it 
just seemed right at the moment. 
        "And that's when you thought he was with me?" 
        She nodded, feeling almost silly. 
        "Natalie, he loves you very much. And he is going insane 
with worry over your spending time with LaCroix." 
        "I'm not doing it to hurt him--or to spite him, as he 
thinks. I enjoy spending time with LaCroix. I need---" 
        "You need the friendship. The attention. Oh, Natalie, I 
know better than anyone that LaCroix can be quite charming... 
attractive... when he wants to be." And Natalie could see from 
the sorrow in her eyes that she had probably fallen prey to 
LaCroix's charisma herself.  "But there's another side of him you 
haven't seen. He can be very dangerous if he feels he's been 
betrayed. He could kill you in an instant--" 
        "And what would he say if he knew you were telling me 
this?" she asked. It wasn't a challenge. She wanted to know. 
        "He'd be angry. He'd find some way to punish me. But you 
won't tell him.  Because you know I'm here for your sake...and 
for Nick's." 
        Natalie nodded, knowing what a precarious position 
Janette was placing herself in. "You have nothing to worry 
about." 
        Janette bowed her head slightly, as if in thanks, then 
brought the conversation back to the situation at hand. "Do you 
know that Nick is drinking blood again? Human blood?" she 
stressed, examining Natalie's eyes for a response. 
        It tore at her heartstrings to hear this. But she merely 
said, "I couldn't stop him before, Janette." 
        "Don't act like you don't care, Natalie," she admonished. 
"I know you do." 
        "Of course I do! But what can I do about it!? He's taken 
steps backwards before--and he doesn't listen to me," she said 
helplessly. 
        "Yes he does," she countered.  "More so than to anyone. 
And this is more than backsliding. He's doing it to make himself 
stronger, Natalie. He's getting ready to fight LaCroix. He's 
prepared to kill him if he does anything to hurt you. Don't you 
understand? Even at his full strength, he could never defeat 
LaCroix. And it *will* come down to a battle this time, Natalie. 
A battle over you." 
        "No." She refused to believe it, despite the real worry 
on Janette's face.  "Janette, things are over between me and 
Nick--" 
        "Are you saying you don't love him anymore?" she 
challenged. 
        Natalie looked hard at her. "Of course I love him." She 
paused, seeing Janette's desperation. This had to be difficult 
for her, Natalie knew. Her voice softened as she said, "You 
wouldn't be here if you didn't know that was true." 
        "I *do* know. But he doesn't. So talk to him, Natalie. 
Tell him. He's frantic right now. He needs to know that he hasn't 
lost you." 
        "It's not that simple, Janette. He may love me--or think 
he does--but he doesn't trust me. There are so many things he's 
kept back from me..." She hated to admit it, but there seemed to 
be no secrets between her and Janette 
just now. "You're the only one he feels he can confide in." 
        "Natalie, he's afraid. He doesn't want to frighten you 
away. Make him talk to you--and let him see that you won't run 
away." 
        She shook her head in doubt. "You make it all seem so 
simple. I wish I could even be that sure that it's really me he 
loves--and not just my mortality--what I represent to him." Her 
worst fear. Yet she had to voice it. 
Perhaps only Janette could tell her if it was warranted or not. 
        "Natalie," Janette said in a confidential tone. "Has 
Nicolas ever told you 
what it's like to share blood with another?" 
        "No," she said softly, knowing this was an intimacy 
Janette had shared with him that she never could. She wasn't sure 
if she wanted to know, but was curious nonetheless. 
        "You can feel the other's thoughts...his soul, if you 
like. When I tasted Nicolas' blood, I felt everything....his 
regret...his guilt...his love for you. And while I admit that 
that was the last thing I wanted to accept...it was there. I 
assure you." She stood to leave, replacing her sunglasses lest 
her eyes betray too much of her own pain. 
        Natalie stood quickly. "Janette...I want to thank you. I 
know...this is awkward..." 
        "I love him too, Natalie," the other woman affirmed 
sadly. "And I want him to be happy. But I know the only way he 
will find happiness is with you." 
        Natalie nodded her understanding. "Thank you," she said 
again, her words heart-felt. 
        Janette returned her nod and left. 
 
        Nick tossed restlessly, burying his head in the satin 
pillow that was already drenched in his own blood sweat. For 
hours he'd willed sleep to come, the warm darkness where pain and 
betrayal could be forgotten, if only until they wove themselves 
into his troubled dreams. Yet he knew that there would be no rest 
for him today, no escape. 
        Divia had seen to that. 
        He'd left her in anger, confusion, unwilling to accept 
what she had told him. Yet now he wished he had stayed, pressed 
her further, until she had either presented him with proof of her 
outlandish accusations, or admitted that she had been lying. 
Natalie and LaCroix? *Making love?* 
        No. Natalie would not betray him like that! 
        His rage had manifested itself in an insatiable hunger, 
and the blood passed more easily through his lips than it had in 
decades; the more he consumed, the greater became his need. But 
the doubts that he had tried so desperately to drown, would not 
be quelled. Instead, they found a companion in his fury, the 
irrational madness that threatened at any moment to emerge with 
his rejuvenated beast. The mortal in him cried out for reason; 
but the vampire demanded retribution. If Divia were right, then 
his worst fears had come to pass. Betrayal, by the one whom he 
had entrusted with his life, his heart.... 
        ...and whatever soul was left to reclaim. 
        Now, as he lay motionless in the darkened room, he fought 
to convince 
himself that it just could not be. But Divia had touched a fear 
so deep within him, that it nearly incapacitated him. It could 
not be true. 
        But if it were.... 
        He had to know. 
        His inner sense told him that the sun had begun to sink 
below the horizon.  Abandoning any hope of rest, he rose quickly, 
showered, dressed, and drank down yet another bottle of blood. It 
had become his solace, and now would have to be his strength. For 
when he faced LaCroix tonight, his fears would be denied or 
confirmed. And that would determine his next move. 
        For tonight, LaCroix would either live or die. 
 
        She showered and dressed for work, but her mind was still 
on her conversation with Janette. It had taken a lot for the 
other woman to come here. For that, Natalie had to respect her. 
It couldn't have been easy for Janette to face her, to tell her 
in no uncertain terms that she knew that Nick's heart lay with 
Natalie, and not herself. An admission of defeat, in a way. Or 
perhaps a realization, finally, that the life  Nick wanted for 
himself was more important than the world she had wanted to keep 
him in. In any case, Natalie had no doubt that Janette had been 
honest with her--not merely because she wished it to be so, but 
because the sincerity had been there. Janette loved Nick; but she 
was letting him go. 
        Nick. Her heart beat more quickly as she thought of him. 
The anguish he had caused her was still there, and quite possibly 
always would be. But so would her love for him. She knew that 
now. Just as she knew that she wasn't ready to give up on him. 
There had been enough hurting; it was time to heal. And unless 
they found the way together, they would both carry the open 
wounds of their loss for the rest of their lives. 
        She reached for the phone, barely able to breathe as she 
prayed the machine wouldn't pick up. 
        "Yeah, Knight here." 
        So cold, so lifeless. 
        "Nick? It's me, Nat." 
        A pause. Too long a pause. 
        "What can I do for you?" 
        Crisp. Official. Cold. 
        "Nick, I'm sorry about before. And I...I think we should 
talk." 
        Another moment. "You mean about the case?" 
        He knew damn well what she meant! Or did he really need 
to hear her say it?  Okay. She would. 
        "No. About...us." 
        "I didn't think there was anything left to talk about." 
Too quick, too brusque. Although she could detect a note of 
surprise in his voice. 
        "There *is*...if you want there to be." 
        "Do *you*, Nat?" He wasn't hiding the emotion in his 
voice now. 
        "Yes," she said softly. 
        "Okay." Did she hear relief? 
        "Um, I have to go to work, but there won't be anyone else 
there. Can you meet me in about an hour and a half? I...have an 
errand to do before I go in." 
        "That's fine," he told her. "So do I." 
        She heaved a sigh as she hung up the phone.  It was a 
start. Yet now that she had heard his voice, felt that small ray 
of hope stirring between them...she wished she could see him 
right now. 
        But it would have to wait. For another thing Janette had 
told her had terrified her. 
        LaCroix could kill Nick. If he wanted to. She'd have to 
make sure it never came to that. 
 
        He set down the receiver, deep in thought. He bit back 
the smile that tried to make its way to his lips. 
        *She called me. She wants to talk. About us.* 
        What he had waited for. Yet he cautioned himself not to 
raise his hopes.  There was still LaCroix, and Divia's 
devastating words. More than ever he wanted to disbelieve them. 
        But he still had to know the truth. And he wouldn't 
question Natalie, and risk exacerbating all the damage that had 
already been done. 
        He'd have to go to LaCroix. Before he spoke to her. He 
had to know..... 
 
        She'd never been to the radio station before. But she 
knew that he would be going on the air soon. In the past he had 
always sought her out; But right now, *she* needed to find *him*. 
Time was of the essence. She had to make sure that no matter what 
happened between her and Nick tonight, no matter how it might 
turn out, Nick would be safe. Janette had been right; he wasn't 
himself. And if he should come looking for LaCroix in a fit of 
anger, she had to be certain that no blood would be shed. She 
couldn't bear for that to happen, much less to be the cause of 
it. 
        She stood for a moment at the door of the control room, 
watching him play with the panels. He seemed so normal, like any 
DJ setting up for his show.  But with senses that were far from 
normal, he knew she was there, and turned, a surprised expression 
on his face. 
        She stepped into the booth as he stood to greet her.  
"This is a pleasant treat," he said, reaching out to take her 
hand. He kissed it,  then continued to hold it affectionately. 
        "I thought I should see where *you* work for a change," 
she told him. 
        Concern crossed his eyes. "But you shouldn't be out and 
about alone after dark." 
        "I needed to talk to you," she said, cutting directly to 
the point. 
        He nodded slowly s if he'd been expecting this. "If it's 
about what happened--what almost happened--I apologize if I made 
you feel uncomfortable.  I didn't intend to pressure you into 
anything you weren't prepared for." He smiled at her with a warm 
light in his eyes. "Just spending time with you as I have 
been...is sufficient for me. I may desire more...but I will take 
only what you give freely." 
        She took a step closer to him to show her trust. "You 
have nothing to be sorry for. You're right--I'm not ready for 
things to go further than they have--but I have no regrets about 
the time we've spent together." 
        He was visibly relieved, and demonstrated by reaching 
tentatively to kiss her on the lips. She kissed him back, trying 
not to think of what his amorous ministrations had done to her 
last night. That wasn't why she was here.... 
        "What's troubling you?" he asked as they separated. There 
was real disquiet in his eyes. He sensed...something.... 
        "It's Nick," she began. 
        His face clouded over. "Has he done anything to hurt 
you?" 
        "No, of course not," she responded, in astonishment that 
he would even think such a thing. "I had to see him tonight, at 
the scene of the latest murder--it got a little nasty. And I'm 
worried. He's so angry about my spending time with you--he may 
try to do something to you." 
        "I can handle Nicholas--" he assured her. 
        "Uh, yeah, I know," she said. "That's the point. I need 
you to promise me that you won't hurt him." 
        He looked at her sharply, frightening her a little as his 
entire aspect seemed to revert to the LaCroix she had imagined 
before she had gotten to know him. "And if he attacks me--you 
expect me not to retaliate?" 
        "Look, you're supposed to be the *adult* here," she 
reminded him, knowing she had to become as stern as he had if she 
wanted him to take her seriously.  "He's your childe, right? 
Weaker? Less experienced? Maybe a little hotter under the collar? 
You can either destroy him, or stop it before anyone gets hurt. 
I'm just asking you to do the latter." She paused, examining his 
face for change. She could see that he was mulling over her 
words, and realized her approach had affected him. But she had to 
be sure. "LaCroix, if you hurt him," she warned, "That's 
something I could never forgive you for." 
        He looked into her eyes, his expression reluctantly 
softening. Finally he nodded. "For you then...I won't fight him. 
You have my word." 
        She sighed deeply, contented with his promise, then 
smiled weakly. She couldn't act victoriously even if she'd wanted 
to. She knew that LaCroix might just as likely have refused her 
request. "Thanks. I owe you one." 
        He slipped his arms around her waist, gently pulling her 
closer, until she could feel the length of his body touching 
hers, almost teasing hers. 
        "To taste your kiss again would be repayment enough." And 
he looked at her again with those kind, expectant eyes that she 
recognized as LaCroix, *her* LaCroix, who would never hurt her. 
Even now, he would not kiss her until he knew that she wanted it. 
        She did. Her hands moved from their resting place on his 
shoulders to circle his neck, pulling him closer. And willingly, 
gladly, gratefully, she brought her mouth to his.... 
        And once more she felt that warmth that dwelled within 
him, the kindness, the passion, that so few had seen. And as he 
prolonged his hungry kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue, 
she could feel the same aching need as last night, the void that 
so desperately cried out to be filled.  What was his power over 
her? Did she really desire LaCroix? Or was it simply the 
exquisite way he held her, kissed her, gave her what she'd needed 
so desperately from Nick.... 
        Sudden guilt overwhelmed her. She didn't want LaCroix to 
make her feel this way. Pull away.... 
        But it was LaCroix who suddenly withdrew. She opened her 
eyes to look at him, and realized that something had called his 
attention. She turned abruptly to follow his defiant stare.... 
        It was Nick. Aghast. His eyes flaming scarlet, his fangs 
bared in an insane, jealous fury.... 
 
        It seemed an eternity that he stood watching 
them...LaCroix's arms enveloping her possessively, Natalie 
reaching up hungrily for his kiss, just 
as she had for *his* not so long ago.... 
        But it took only an instant for his entire being to die. 
The heart that had loved her froze over; and the soul that had 
trusted her, believed in her, fell back into the abyss to which 
LaCroix had condemned it...was condemning it once more, with this 
defilement. And as his love for her was brutally extinguished, so 
was his hope, his future...everything that had been wrapped up in 
the woman who had given him back his humanity, and had promised 
so much more.... 
        Lies. All lies. And the fury that overwhelmed him rose 
from his shattered heart into his eyes, nearly blinding him with 
their crimson glow. And as his fangs extended, drawing blood from 
his own lips, he knew that the beast in him had taken complete 
control. And it would protect him, avenge him, soothe his pain 
with retribution for this ultimate betrayal.... 
        It would kill them both. 
        And he would let it. 
 
        Natalie's eyes opened wide in dread. She had never seen 
him like this--even his rage when he had fallen off the wagon had 
seemed mild compared to the blind fury that had overcome him now. 
His once-blue eyes were the color of blood, his face contorted in 
a bestial snarl. But more than fear gripped her.  It broke her 
heart to know that she had done this to him, precisely when she'd 
wanted nothing more than to give them a second chance.... 
        She opened her mouth to say his name, to beg him to calm 
down. But her plea turned into a gasp of horror as LaCroix was 
ripped from her and thrown across the room. The older vampire 
stood quickly, the rage passing through his eyes.  But as she 
cried, "LaCroix, no!", she could see him struggling to contain 
his anger, for the sake of his vow to her. 
        Nick was going at him again, and Natalie moved at once to 
stand before him.  She called his name, but knew he would not 
answer. His eyes were dead, devoid of any part of him that she 
had known. And he barely seemed to acknowledge her as he pushed 
her aside, with such force that she was sent sprawling.  Natalie 
winced at the pain as her tail bone crashed against the floor, 
and fought to keep back the tears that had found their way to the 
corners of her eyes. This couldn't be happening. He would kill 
her, she knew. He would kill both of them. He was no longer in 
control. But she had caused this, and she would have to set it 
right.... 
        "My, what a chivalrous knight you are, Nicholas," LaCroix 
spat at him in contempt.  "Throwing your lady across the room--" 
        Something seemed to stir within him as he glanced at her, 
as if realizing for the first time what he had done. But as she 
pulled herself to her feet, he turned back to LaCroix, and the 
beast took over once more as he lunged for his master's neck. 
        This time, LaCroix threw him into the glass wall, and 
Nick went crashing through the sound booth. Natalie ran to him, 
and as he stood up, she brought herself once more between him 
and LaCroix. 
        "Nick, don't do it!" she pleaded. 
        For a moment she saw him hesitate, but it was only to 
snarl at her, before saying, in a voice lower than his own, "Get 
out of the way, Nat, or I'll kill you too for what you've done to 
me!" 
        His words cut through her, and she knew she was shaking. 
"Oh, you will?" she challenged bravely, refusing to let him see 
the fear in her heart.  "For a kiss?" 
        "It's more than that, and you damn well know it!" he 
cried. 
        What did he think? She knew he was in no state to listen 
to reason. But she could not back away now; it would only give 
credence to his accusations.  "Really?" she said, as if angry 
that he would dare to denounce her for something she hadn't done. 
"Well, if you're so certain, and you trust me so little...." She 
let her voice trail off. But she crossed her arms and stood in 
front of him, and the unspoken challenge was clear. *Go ahead. 
Kill me*. 
        "You wouldn't dare touch her," LaCroix warned, ready to 
move in. 
        Nick seemed to ignore LaCroix as his eyes searched hers. 
She stood firm, as if defying him to find guilt there. And to her 
relief, she saw the Nick she loved slowly begin to emerge, as his 
eyes cooled to an amber glow. For a brief moment, she could see 
the profound sadness that had brought him to this, and had come 
forth just now as he'd realized what he had almost done.  "No, I 
won't," he said softly, his hand reaching out as if to touch her 
face. She stepped closer to him, to show her trust...but he 
withdrew his hand before the contact could be made. He looked 
from one to the other, once more erecting a shield to conceal his 
emotions. And his voice was neutral, save for the controlled 
anger, as he said, "I want nothing to do with either of you ever 
again." 
        He turned and left. 
        Natalie merely stared after him, unable to move. Tears 
had begun to well in her eyes, her relief overshadowed now by 
anguish. It couldn't end this way.  She felt LaCroix's hand on 
her arm, and turned to face him. 
        "Are you...all right?" he asked, holding her arms as he 
looked her over. 
        She managed a nodded. She couldn't speak just yet; she 
might cry. That was the last thing she wanted to do. He took her 
into his arms, and for a long moment she rested her head 
greatfully against his chest. "It's over," he promised her, 
stroking her hair. 
        His words jarred her. "No," she murmured, then looked up 
at him. "I have to go to him. He thinks..." 
        "It doesn't matter what he thinks," he replied sharply. 
"He could have killed you." 
        She shook her head, gently pulling away from him. "No. He 
didn't. And he won't." 
        "Natalie, I will not let you go to him. Not while he's in 
this mad frenzy--" He stopped, as if realizing that telling her 
he 'wouldn't let her' was tantamount to sending her off in the 
other direction. "Please. I did as you asked," he reminded her, 
trying a different tack. "Do this for me. Stay away from him." 
        She knew she owed this to him. But she owed so much more 
to Nick, and to herself. "I'm sorry. I have to go." 
        LaCroix's face was emotionless, but she could read the 
mixture of anger and worry in his eyes. "Then let me go with you. 
To protect you." 
        "I can't," she replied. "This is something I have to do 
on my own." 
        She looked at him for a long moment before reaching up to 
kiss him lightly on the lips. "I'll be okay," she promised. 
        "If he harms you, I *will* destroy him," he assured her 
in no uncertain terms. 
        She didn't respond. Nick wouldn't hurt her. The time for 
hurting was over. 
 
        The loft was dark, but she knew he must be there. The 
thought had occurred to her that he might have gone to the Raven. 
But no. The agony in his eyes had been too deep; it was something 
he would share with no one right now, not even Janette. He would 
seek comfort from his oldest companion--the blood. She knew that. 
She was prepared for that. 
        After he had nearly killed her, she was prepared for 
anything. She had to be. It was the only way they could possibly 
get over this. 
        She held her breath as the elevator doors creaked open, 
releasing it as she saw him.  Against the moonlight that streamed 
through the open windows, he sat on the couch, raising the bottle 
to his lips. His back was to her, but he stiffened suddenly as he 
sensed her. Without turning to her, he said, "Get the hell out of 
here, Natalie." 
        "No," she said firmly, walking towards him. 
        He turned to her, his golden eyes filled with hurt. "I 
don't want you here."  
        "That's too bad. I'm not leaving until we talk. That was 
what we had agreed to do tonight?" 
        "That was before--" 
        "Nothing has changed," she broke in abruptly. 
        "Yes it has." His voice was filled with defeat. 
        "Not for me," she said quietly. With that she sat down on 
the couch, letting him know she had no intention of leaving. 
        For a few moments, he ignored her, drinking from the 
bottle in his hand until it was empty. He knew she hated to see 
him drink blood, and she was positive that this little act of 
defiance was meant to hurt her. But she said nothing, waiting 
patiently for him to speak. 
        Finally, he turned to her. "All right," he said with 
contempt in his voice.  "Why don't you tell me what you and I 
have left to discuss?" 
        She met his yellow glare undaunted. "Why don't we start 
with what a hypocrite you are?" 
        He hadn't expected this, and she was glad to catch him 
off guard. While he stared at her, she continued, "What right did 
you have to react like that--"  She swept her hand over the table 
filled with empty bottles. "Like *this*, over a kiss?" 
        His face hardened. "I know that's not all there is. 
You've made love with him, haven't you?" he accused. 
        She met his gaze without blinking. "You know, it would 
serve you right if I just said it's none of your business and 
left it at that--because it isn't. If I had made love with 
him--how could you possibly be angry at me after *you* slept with 
Janette--?" 
        "That was different--" he said uncomfortably. 
        "No, it's not!" she cried angrily. 
        "LaCroix could kill you." 
        She looked him squarely in the eyes, as she replied with 
meaning,  "So could you." 
        He was silent, and she knew that the guilt of what he had 
almost done to her weighed heavily upon him. 
        "I'm sorry," he said finally. "You don't know how it felt 
to see you with him." 
        "Yes I do," she reminded him. "What I walked in on was a 
hell of a lot worse." 
        He sighed deeply, averting her eyes. "You know I wouldn't 
have hurt you," he said quietly.  "I could never hurt you." 
        "I know," she admitted, wanting to assuage his guilt on 
that one point.  There were more important things to discuss. 
"Just as I know that LaCroix won't hurt me." 
        "You don't know him!" he burst out. 
        She shook her head. "No, Nick. It's *you* I don't know! 
He's held back nothing from me. You, on the other hand, claimed 
to love me, and yet you never trusted me enough to share 
everything--your past, your pain...." She could not conceal her 
hurt as she said, "That's why you always went to Janette." 
        "So you punished me by making love with my enemy! What 
was it, Nat? The sex?" he taunted, his eyes taking on a reddish 
glow. "The fact that he's older, more controlled, and knew how to 
give you what you couldn't get from me?" 
        "Listen to yourself, will you?  Do I sense a little 
projection here? Isn't that why you went to Janette?  Because you 
could make love to her without worrying about killing her? 
Because she could give you what I couldn't? What you weren't 
willing to wait for? 
        She didn't want to lose it. But she was close. She stood 
from the couch, needing to distance herself physically from him. 
Then, taking a deep breath, she said, "Look, you would deserve it 
if I had been with someone else. But I wasn't--" 
        "He was in your apartment the night I called. He stayed 
overnight. And last night--" 
        "Oh, and were you perched outside my window? I was with 
him, and we kissed.  It went a little further than that. But then 
we stopped. Period. And he left." She paused. "The only thing 
I've ever gotten from LaCroix that you *wouldn't* give me, is 
trust. He trusts me with the truth about himself." 
        He stood to face her. "I trusted you more than any other 
mortal!" 
        "I wanted you to trust me more than any other *woman*!" 
she cried. Her cheeks were hot with anger. She didn't know if he 
believed her. She was beginning not to care. But as he came to 
her, gingerly placing his hands on her shoulders, she could see 
that his eyes had returned to their beautiful blue. And the 
anguish in his expression was no longer self-pity, but rather the 
pain of what he had done to her. 
        "I do, Nat," he whispered. "I do. Please...forgive me..." 
And as he wrapped his arms around her, she closed her eyes, 
falling gladly into his embrace.  God, how she had missed this! 
The scent of his skin, the safety of his arms about her, the 
touch of his hands as he caressed her cheek, her hair...There 
*was* something here to be salvaged...perhaps with time. But this 
was a start, wasn't it? 
        She hadn't realized that tears were streaming down her 
cheeks until he wiped them away. And she hadn't known how much 
she'd missed his kiss until he crushed his lips against hers, 
kissing her with a hunger and passion he'd never allowed himself 
with her. She knew this couldn't last. And she relished every 
touch, every taste, until the inevitable. 
        He separated from her reluctantly, his expression one of 
deep regret. And she knew that he was wondering just how much 
more control LaCroix had been able to maintain....He squeezed her 
hand, kissing it, then releasing it. He couldn't touch her right 
now. She could see him struggling with his hunger. 
        "So, does this mean you're willing to talk now?" she 
asked with an expectant smile, breaking the tense silence. 
"Because if you still want me to leave, I--" 
        "Don't you dare!" he said with a grin, grabbing her arm 
and pulling her back down to the couch with him. "Okay, let's 
talk," he said, growing serious. "But let me start." 
        "Be my guest." She'd said enough. She needed to hear 
something from him that would convince her that she wasn't about 
to make a big mistake by trusting him again. 
        "I need you to understand...that I do trust you, Nat. 
With my life. My soul." He touched her cheek, the love in his 
eyes quelling the vampiric hunger. "With my heart. I just 
couldn't bear to lose you--and I thought I would, if you knew 
everything." 
        "So any time it was really bad--you went to Janette." She 
tried to hide the bitterness. But she failed miserably. 
        "It's not that I trusted her more, Nat. Or loved her 
more," he made sure to add. "In fact, she's betrayed me more 
times that I can count. But she knows the things I've done--the 
things I couldn't bring myself to tell you. She was *there* when 
they happened. And sometimes, it was easier to go to her." 
        "Including for sex." 
        She was sorry almost the moment she'd said it. But a part 
of her still needed to remind of that hurt. It was something that 
wouldn't go away, even long after she'd forgiven him. 
        His face grew dark. "It hadn't happened until that night, 
Nat. And it probably wouldn't have, if it weren't for everything 
that was going on. I was backsliding--I knew it." He looked at 
the empty bottles on the coffee table. "I still am." He sighed, 
not able to look her in the eyes. "First I lost my 
humanity--again--when your mortality drug failed. And then, 
thanks to LaCroix, I couldn't even have you, and what we'd 
started. I just..." He shrugged. "...gave up. I don't know. And 
she was there. And it was safe. Familiar." 
        "I know all this," she said gently, resting her hand over 
his. "What I need to know now is whether or not things would be 
any different if we were to try it again." 
        He looked at her, his eyes filled with sadness. "You're 
never going to be able to trust me again, are you?" 
        She hesitated a bit too long, and could see his 
apprehension until she finally answered,  "In time. But things 
would have to change." 
        "I know." He brought his face closer to hers. "Natalie, I 
love you--" 
        "But is that enough for you? Until we find a cure--or a 
way around the problems with really *being together*--can you be 
satisfied with our relationship?" 
        He smiled, looking at her as if she were the sun, moon 
and stars to him. "Oh yes," he said emphatically, as if he had 
learned his lesson.  "Nat, I would rather walk into the sunlight 
than be with someone else ever again." 
        Her cheeks grew hot as they always did when he gazed at 
her that way. "You wouldn't have to," she told him, with a 
mischievous glint in her eye. "I'd drag you out into the daylight 
myself if you ever did something like that again." 
        He gave her a look as if to say *You're very cruel*, but 
he merely said, "I don't doubt it." He kissed her tentatively on 
the cheek, and when he pulled away she could see the worry that 
still clouded his eyes. 
        "What is it?" she asked. 
        "There's something *I* have to know, Nat," he said 
hesitantly. "About you and...him." 
        Her heart stopped. She'd thought this had been resolved. 
"Nick, I told you we didn't--" 
        "I know," he broke in quickly. "And I believe you. But 
you're forgetting, he was the reason I had to stay away from you. 
He was going to kill you--or bring you over. I don't understand 
what happened...what he's up to." 
        "Nick, he's not up to anything," she assured him. "And he 
won't bother us any more. He won't stop us from being together 
this time. He and I...have gotten to know each other." 
        "How well?" he asked jealously. 
        "We're *friends*. He wouldn't--" 
        "Do you love him, Nat?" he asked suddenly. And she could 
see that this was the crux of what concerned him. He didn't 
understand what had changed, why it was safe for them now. And he 
was afraid of whatever connection she had made with LaCroix. 
        "Nick, I *like* him," she said slowly. And then, although 
she was uncomfortable admitting it to him, added, "And yes. I am 
attracted to him. But I don't *love* him, Nick." He was looking 
away, as if he couldn't watch her as she spoke of her feelings 
for LaCroix. She leaned over, bringing her face within inches of 
his, and reaching up to gently turn his head, making him face 
her. "I don't fall in love--or out of love--that easily," she 
said emphatically. 
        Relief flooded his face. "Does this mean...we have a 
chance?" he half-whispered, his voice filled with emotion. 
        She answered him with a kiss--slow, sweet, loving. And as 
he enveloped her in his arms, she fell back against him, closing 
her eyes. It would be all right now. She knew it. She wasn't 
deluding herself. This was real. And this time, it would work. 
 
        Divia's eyes blazed with her jealousy. Each kiss, each 
tender caress, that Nicholas wasted on this mortal, drove her 
insane. How could she have miscalculated? How could both LaCroix 
and Nicholas have changed so much since she'd known them?  Or did 
this woman really have so much power over them both? 
        She'd expected Nicholas to kill her. If he'd killed 
LaCroix in the bargain--that would be the price to pay to have 
the one she loved. But Nicholas had surprised her. Rather than 
sever the bonds between him and Natalie, Divia had only served to 
strengthen them with her ploy. Yes, Nicholas had changed. His 
humanity, his reason, had won out over his bestial urges. 
        But LaCroix was different. He had to be. She knew him too 
well, had trained him too thoroughly. His heart was cold, his 
need to seek vengeance an intrinsic part of his character. If 
Nicholas wouldn't be driven to kill this woman--LaCroix would. 
And if Nicholas were to kill LaCroix.... 
        C'est la vie. Natalie would still be gone. And Nicholas 
would be hers. 
        But she would have to plan it very carefully this 
time.... 
 
        LaCroix tapped his fingers impatiently against the bar, 
looking up from his thoughts only long enough to motion for 
Miklos to bring him another glass of Janette's blood-wine 
mixture. Two hours had passed since Natalie had left in search of 
Nicholas, and still there was no sign of her. He'd checked her 
apartment, then called the morgue, where her friend Grace had 
told him with concern that she was already an hour late for work. 
LaCroix had to fight the urge to go looking for her. After all, 
she was most definitely in the most obvious place. 
        Nicholas' loft. 
        He tried to rationalize that she could be in danger. That 
in Nicholas' state he might want--had wanted--to kill her. But he 
knew in his heart that even in his rage, Nicholas would not harm 
her. He hadn't. And he wouldn't. Therefore, he should not be 
concerned. 
        The fact that he was, was a real source of irritation to 
him. For he knew it wasn't mere fear for her safety. It was 
jealousy. Pure, emotional, human, jealousy. 
        And it was driving him quite insane. 
        "Soif?" Janette asked him, as she noticed him ask Miklos 
to refill his glass. 
        "Have you heard from Nicholas?" he asked her abruptly, 
ignoring her question. 
        "No," she answered, and he sensed that she was telling 
the truth. "Why?"  
        He didn't respond. He was too busy finishing his drink. 
 
        She'd helped him clear away the empty bottles, and 
watched in satisfaction as he'd poured most of his blood supply 
down the drain. They'd both agreed that he couldn't go cold 
turkey--his system was too used to it right now.  He'd have to 
gradually cut down. But for the first time in months, he was 
ready to make an earnest start.  And she could see an enthusiasm 
on his face that had been missing for so long, as he said, 
"Tomorrow night, why don't we go food shopping--pick up a few 
thing s so you can start making me dinners again." 
        She put her arms around his neck. "I don't suppose you 
ever thought of cooking for yourself?" 
        "Come on, Nat. I was born in the thirteenth century. They 
didn't teach men how to cook back then." He slipped his arms 
around her waist. "Besides, I *like* your cooking." 
        She raised an eyebrow. "You could have fooled me. I can't 
remember the last time you could keep more than two bites down--" 
        He kissed her suddenly on the lips. And when he 
reluctantly pulled away, replied, "I guess I'm just going to have 
to try harder. With a lot of things." He was about to kiss her 
again when the unwelcome sound of her beeper interrupted them. He 
released her with a sigh. "I knew this was too good to last." 
        "Oh my God--I was supposed to be at work an hour and a 
half ago," she remembered suddenly. Sure enough, the beep was 
from Grace. She reached for his phone, but he laid a hand over 
hers before she could pick it up. 
        "Didn't you say something about calling in tonight?" he 
asked with a mischievous gleam in his eye. She smiled and was 
about to decline against her better judgment, but there was a 
sudden serious expression on his face as he added, "There's 
something I need to talk to you about...about the murders." 
        "Okay. Let me just check in with Grace, and let her know 
where to get me.  Just in case there's another--" 
        "There won't be," he told her, but held out the phone to 
her anyway. She looked at him strangely, then dialed her office. 
It was still the second memory button on his phone, right after 
her home. She smiled to herself to see he hadn't changed it. 
        "Grace, it's me..." 
        Her friend's voice was full of worry as she said, 
"Natalie, thank God! I was beginning to worry. Even that handsome 
boyfriend of yours called looking for you--" 
        LaCroix. She'd forgotten about him. She was about to tell 
Grace that he wasn't her boyfriend, but decided it was a 
conversation best had when Nick wasn't standing next to her. 
"Well, Grace, I'm not coming in tonight--" 
        "Are you all right?" 
        She smiled as she looked at Nick, waiting impatiently for 
her to hang up.  "Yeah, I'm fine. Look, if you need to get in 
touch with me, I'm at Nick's..." 
        She didn't have to see Grace to know she was grinning. 
"*Oh*. I *see*. Well, have fun. What should I tell Boyfriend 
Number Two if he calls? That is, assuming that Nick is back to 
being Number One?" 
        They'd really have to have a talk. "Tell him I'm fine, 
and I'll call him tomorrow night. But whatever you do, don't tell 
anyone where I am, okay?" 
        "Got it." Grace paused. "Have a good time..." 
        She hung up, and she could see the question in his eyes. 
"LaCroix called looking for me," she said. 
        He said nothing. She knew that any friendship she 
maintained with LaCroix would disturb him. But it wasn't 
something she wanted to deal with right now.  "So, I'm all yours 
for the night." 
        "Just the night?" he asked with an impish grin. 
        "Well, I suppose I could be persuaded to stay the day," 
she replied innocently, pretending not to catch his meaning. "So, 
does this mean you want me to cook you dinner?" 
        He squeezed her hand. She didn't like his serious 
expression. "There's something we have to talk about first." 
        He led her to the couch, and she knew this was going to 
be a long one. But he was *talking* to her. That alone meant 
everything. 
        "I know who's committing the murders," he began. "Her 
name is Divia." 
        Her eyes opened wide. "LaCroix's daughter? The one who 
made him?" 
        His face registered surprise that she knew, and then 
something else. A frown of consternation, uncomfortable that 
LaCroix had told her so much. 
        "How do you know?" she asked, not letting him dwell on 
it. 
        "I saw her tonight. At the University. She was doing it 
to draw me out, Nat." Again, that same guilt in his eyes as when 
he'd thought that LaCroix was killing the homeless to attract his 
attention. 
        But it suddenly all made sense. "She either has a thing 
for you...or she's angry at you." 
        Now his surprise bordered on shock. "How did you know? 
Did LaCroix--?"  Suddenly he seemed mortified that LaCroix might 
have told her something about him that he had not. 
        She shook her head vigorously. "No--it makes sense. The 
victims--except for the children--were all blond young men. In 
fact, I remember when I saw the last one, thinking that he 
*looked* like you. It was actually a little spooky--especially 
when it turned out his name was Nicholas." She shuddered at the 
memory. "So what happened? Why is she doing this?" 
        He breathed deeply. "It's a long story." 
        "Nick," she warned. 
        "And a bad one," he added. 
        "It doesn't matter," she assured him softly. "You 
promised to trust me--" 
        "I know," he agreed, nodding. "Just remember--this 
happened in the early 1400's--I wasn't very nice back then." 
        "It's okay. I can handle it," she said, squeezing his 
hand. 
 
        He took a deep breath and began. "It was about two 
hundred years after I'd been brought over. We were living in 
Europe still. England. We were posing as nobles from France, 
living in a huge castle in the north. There, I fell in love with 
a young woman named Elizabeth." He paused, looking up to see if 
this line of discussion made her uncomfortable. But she nodded 
for him to go on. 
        "I was obsessed with finding a way to make love to a 
woman without...without taking her blood. They all knew, but 
wouldn't teach me. For LaCroix...it was power. For Janette--" 
        "It was jealousy," she surmised, and by his expression he 
knew that she was correct. 
        "Janette knew. He'd taught her. That was how..." He 
stopped again, this time looking into her eyes as he said, "that 
was how she seduced me, and brought me to LaCroix." 
        So it was Janette who had lured him to his fate! Natalie 
couldn't begin to comprehend how he had ever forgiven her that. 
But now wasn't the time to question him. He had begun to open up, 
and she didn't want to discourage him.  "Go on," she said gently. 
        "So, I was angry at them--frustrated--and that was when 
Divia arrived.  LaCroix had never told us a lot about her. But 
for the first time since I'd known him, he actually seemed -- 
*afraid*.  We realized that she had controlled him, tormented 
him, really, for hundreds of years. I suppose that was why he had 
a need to control me and Janette. But to me, Divia was just a 
child--" 
        "And she...got a crush on you?" she guessed. 
        He nodded. "I didn't take her seriously. Even when she 
told me she could teach me the secret of making love to a 
mortal--and I knew she knew it, because she had taught LaCroix--I 
couldn't accept her offer. She wanted me to have sex with her. 
But she was a kid." He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose maybe 
it was the very fact that I wasn't afraid of her that attracted 
her." 
        "Well, you're not exactly bad-looking," she chided him, 
with a twinkle in her eye. 
        "But I'm no pedophile, either," he responded wryly. "I 
rejected her." 
        He had stopped, and seemed deep in thought. She knew 
there was more. There had to be. "Nick, what happened next?" 
        When he looked into her eyes, his own were filled with 
anguish. "Nat, I'm afraid to--" 
        "You have to," she pleaded. 
        "When Divia refused to teach me, I decided that maybe 
there was no secret--that maybe it was just control. So I went to 
Elizabeth that night..." 
        He swallowed back his emotion, and Natalie touched his 
arm lightly. "And she died?" she asked delicately. 
        "I killed her," he corrected, making sure she understood 
his culpability.  "And when I saw what I had done...I...lost it, 
Nat. I hated them for not teaching me...and I hated myself even 
more for having the arrogance and foolhardiness to try. So I went 
on a rampage over the next few days, taking women, trying to do 
what I hadn't been able to do with Elizabeth...." He looked away 
from her in shame. His voice was devoid of emotion as he said,  
"In all I must have killed two dozen. Maybe more. It became a 
blur." 
        "Oh, Nick," she said, but in sympathy, not reproach. 
        "After that, I knew I had to stop. I went back to LaCroix 
and told him that I wouldn't spill any more human blood." His 
voice took on a tone of disdain as he said, "Of course, he had 
been thrilled with my killing spree. So when I began trying to 
live on animal blood, he locked me in chains in a stone chamber, 
depriving me of even that." 
        "He starved you?" she asked in astonishment. Could this 
be the same LaCroix she thought she knew? 
        "It wasn't the first time...and it wouldn't be the last. 
He kept me there for a days until I was too weak to even try to 
resist. And each night, he'd bring another beautiful young 
girl...terrified, begging for her life...But I couldn't take 
them," he said. "Finally, after about a month...Divia came to 
me." 
        He turned to her now, and she could see that his eyes had 
taken on an amber glow with the memories. "She offered me her 
blood...her body...in exchange for the secret. And I hated her, 
Natalie. I wanted her to pay for not teaching me before...for 
Elizabeth...and all the others...So I took her.  Violently--" 
        "You couldn't help yourself. You were starving--" 
        "I knew what I was doing," he admitted, and by the 
embarrassment on his face, she knew that it was true. "I raped 
her, Natalie. And nearly drained her of blood. LaCroix had to 
feed her his own blood just to save her." 
        "I don't understand...after all that...she still *wants* 
you?" 
        "Natalie, she is so twisted and evil that in her mind, 
she enjoyed it. She's a two thousand year old sociopathic child. 
She even tried to kill Janette, a hundred years later--" He saw 
the question in her eyes and explained, "It was during the 
Renaissance. Janette and I were...involved for almost a hundred 
years. Divia thought that if Janette were destroyed..." His voice 
trailed off, and he looked at her with concern in his eyes. She 
didn't like hearing about any of this. But she needed to. And she 
also needed to keep any shock or hurt from her face lest he think 
he should stop. It was too important for him to go on, and share 
it with her. 
        "So what happened?" 
        "LaCroix and I stopped her," he said. "And she left. It 
was the last time I saw her...until last night." He rose 
suddenly, standing to look out the window. But she knew he was 
staring at nothing beyond his images of the past.  For a few 
moments she let him have his silence, until finally he said, "So 
there, Nat, you know the whole story. Are you satisfied?" 
        His tone was so cold, distant. Yet she knew that it 
wasn't anger, but shame that was controlling him now. He had 
opened his life up to her just as he'd feared to do for the past 
three years. And the next few moments would tell him if his fears 
had been justified or not. She went over to him, standing behind 
him. "It's okay," she said tenderly, slipping her hands around 
his waist and resting her head against his shoulder. 
        "No, it's not," he said in a hushed whisper. "Is that 
what you needed, Nat?  To hear that I killed a woman I loved 
trying to make love to her? All the other murders, the 
brutality...did you really need to hear that? Because there's a 
hell of a lot more!" 
        "And you'll tell me when you're ready," she said calmly. 
        "Why? So you can despise me?  Or be frightened to let me 
touch you?" 
        "I'm not afraid of you," she promised. 
        She felt his hands cover hers. "I'm afraid of myself," he 
said almost inaudibly. She could hear the emotion in his voice, 
and knew that he was too abashed to face her. So she held him 
until he had the strength to speak again. "Natalie, *he* can tell 
you the things he's done because he doesn't regret them. He's 
proud of them." She could hear the bitterness in his voice.  And 
she knew the truth of his words. Perhaps for the first time since 
she had gotten to know LaCroix, she could really appreciate the 
major difference between them. 
        "And that's why *you're* the one I love," she told him. 
        Suddenly, he released her hands, as he turned around to 
face her. "Can you really love me knowing all this? What I am, 
what I've done...?" 
        "Yes!" she assured him again. And as she saw that one 
word begin to quell his fears, she smiled to see the relief 
spread across his face, and the calm blue return to his eyes. 
        "You are one incredible woman," he told her softly. 
        "Yeah, I keep trying to tell you that," she replied, 
reaching up to kiss him. 
        And he kissed her, unafraid. 
        "I love you so much," he whispered in her ear as he held 
her tightly. 
        "Just don't forget it again, okay?" There was the 
slightest vestige of remembered hurt behind her blithe tone. 
        He didn't fail to hear it. He pulled his face away to 
look into her eyes.  "Never," he swore. And relieved to see her 
smile once more, he pulled her close again, repeating, "Never." 
 
        She'd slipped out during the day to check on Sydney and 
pick up fresh clothes for that night's shift. She was tired 
herself, but her thoughts were racing too much to sleep. The 
night had been a breakthrough for them. For even as they'd lain 
together in his bed, holding each other until dawn, he'd told her 
things that he never had. His fear was gone. And with each new 
part of his past he had revealed to her, the wall that he had 
built had come tumbling down. There were no emotional barriers 
now. And they both felt it.  With a new ease of knowing that he 
would not lose her, he'd opened up completely. And she knew now 
that he trusted her implicitly. 
        It was all she'd ever wanted. Even the physical closeness 
seemed less of a problem. Knowing that she wasn't afraid of him, 
gave Nick the confidence to push the limits of his self-control. 
And by the time they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, they'd 
made definite progress.... 
        Natalie smiled to herself as she remembered his eager but 
gentle exploration, his cool hands against her bare skin, sending 
waves of arousal through her. Even thinking of it now made her 
want him.... 
        In time. And maybe, if he were awake, they could push it 
just a bit further.... 
        He was waiting for her as the elevator door slid open, 
his hair tousled and his eyes squinting as if he had just woken 
up. But there was unmistakable worry on his face. "I woke up and 
you were gone...." 
        She motioned to the groceries in her arms. "I promised 
you dinner, remember?" 
        He smiled as he took the bags from her, setting them down 
and holding out his arms to her. She fell into them gladly. 
        "I was worried," he whispered. "Nat, I don't want you to 
go out alone when the sun's down. Not until we find Divia." 
        She nodded. He'd told her how Divia had been the one 
watching her with LaCroix; how she'd incited Nick's jealousy by 
telling him LaCroix had made love to her. He was sure that she'd 
intended for him to kill her, or LaCroix, or both. "We'll have to 
tell LaCroix she's back," Natalie reminded him. 
        "I know. I already called Janette to warn her Divia might 
be coming there for blood. Janette hasn't seen LaCroix since last 
night." 
        Again, she remembered Grace's message. "I have to speak 
to him too. I think I owe it to him." 
        Nick was silent, merely hugging her closer to him. She 
knew he didn't feel comfortable with the idea of her maintaining 
contact with LaCroix. But she'd proven last night that she was 
his, and his alone. There was no jealousy left in either of them. 
Even the fact that he'd called Janette didn't bother her.  After 
all, Janette had wanted them to get back together, hadn't she? 
        "Just promise me you won't go out alone at night, okay?" 
        "I *do* have to go to work, tonight," she reminded him. 
He ignored her, tasting her neck with his lips, his tongue. 
        "Later," he said softly. "I'll take you there...but much 
later." 
        Natalie trembled as his mouth found hers and he kissed 
her deeply, pressing his body against hers so that she could feel 
his arousal through his silk pajamas. And once again, her own 
desire for him coursed through her. 
        At this rate, she might never want to leave the loft 
again.... 
 
        In his apartment, LaCroix lay awake waiting for night to 
fall. He'd called her apartment dozens of times, and left 
countless messages at her office. But she was nowhere to be 
found. Unable to force sleep, he rose once more, reaching for the 
phone. 
        Janette answered almost immediately, as if she'd been 
awake. 
        "Have you heard from Nicholas?" he asked. There was no 
need to identify himself. 
        "Yes. And there's something--" 
        "Was Natalie with him?" he broke in abruptly. 
        He could hear her hesitation. 
        "Janette," he warned. 
        "Yes," she said finally. 
        He'd known. Yet hearing it made his heart sink. "So, 
she's forgiven him," he stated dully. 
        It hadn't been a question. It *never* had been. 
        "LaCroix, there's something more...pressing, right now." 
There was fear in her voice. 
        "And what could *that* possibly be?" he asked with little 
interest. 
        "It's Divia." 
        The mere mention of her name made his skin crawl. 
"Divia?" 
        "She's here. She's the one making the killings. She 
promised Nick she'd stop, but she's planning on coming here." She 
paused, as if waiting for a response. But he was still mulling 
over the ramifications in his mind.  "LaCroix, please," Janette 
begged. "I need you to be here in case she comes." 
        Her tone struck a chord of sympathy in him. She was his 
childe; he was bound to protect her. "I'll be there at sunset," 
he promised, trying to soothe her with his tone. 
        It made sense, didn't it? There were few besides Divia 
who would break the Code so recklessly. The real question was why 
she was here. For him? For Nicholas? 
        Nicholas knew. At least he would be prepared. 
        *Natalie*. If Divia had been watching them, she knew 
Natalie's importance to both of them. For the first time in 
almost twenty-four hours, he was relieved to know that she was 
with Nicholas. At least she would be safe.... 
        ....or so he hoped. He glanced at the clock. Another hour 
to sunset. Taking a bottle of Janette's finest vintage from his 
refrigerator, he drank it down.  He would need his strength. 
        They all would. 
 
        "Come on," she coaxed. "Just one more bite..." 
        He looked helplessly from her expectant face to the rare 
steak on his plate.  "Nat, I already had half of it. And that 
took me half an hour--" 
        "It'll get a lot easier once there's less blood in your 
system," she promised. "Remember, a few months ago I had you up 
to a hamburger?" She cut a tiny piece and held the fork out to 
him as if she were feeding a child. "I have complete faith in 
you." 
        She'd known that would do it. He opened his mouth, 
letting her insert the meat. She waited until he chewed and 
swallowed. She knew his tricks, and wasn't going to take the 
chance that he'd spit it out. 
        He made a face as if he would be sick, then closed his 
eyes as the wave of nausea passed. Then he smiled weakly. "Okay, 
Mom? Can I have dessert now?" 
        "I'm very proud of you," she told him as she cleared away 
the dishes.  Looking behind her shoulder from the sink, she could 
see from his expression that he was pleased with himself. 
        She finished the dishes, and turned around. He had 
disappeared. Moments later, he came down the stairs holding 
something in his hand. Only when he approached did she realize 
what it was. 
        A gun. 
        "What the hell is that for?" she asked as he held it out 
to her. 
        "It's for you, while you're at work. I need to go in to 
the station, and then find LaCroix. I know you said there'll be a 
lot of people in the building, but I want you to have this with 
you...just in case." 
        She hesitated. "You know I don't like guns. Besides, what 
good is a gun against a vampire?" 
        He opened the chamber to show her the bullets. 
        "Wood?" she asked. 
        "Right through the heart. They won't kill her, but 
they'll incapacitate her long enough for you to get away." 
        Reluctantly, she took it from him, wondering just what he 
was doing with it himself. "Thanks, I think," she said, slipping 
it into her purse. Then she looked back at him with a naughty 
gleam in her eye. "You never know, this might come in handy one 
day if you get out of hand." 
        He took her into his arms. "Oh really? And tell me, 
Doctor Lambert, did I get too 'out of hand' for you last night? 
Or today?" 
        She paused, pretending to think it over, then said, "Nah, 
nothing I couldn't handle." She reached up to give him a kiss. 
"The sun's coming down. We'd better go--"  
        He kissed her again, not letting her go. "On one 
condition. Promise you'll spend the day again tomorrow?" 
        Hmmm. She'd have to think about that one long and hard. 
"Only if you have twice as much steak tomorrow." 
        "French fries? Ketchup?" he asked with the hopefulness of 
a child. 
        She grinned at his enthusiasm. It had been too long. 
 
        She had trouble concentrating on her work, and she was 
glad that things were slow. There was still a killer at large, 
she knew, one who might have a personal grudge against her. Then 
there was LaCroix. She did have to talk to him. Waiting this 
long, especially after what had happened at the radio station,  
was inexcusable. Yet the progress that she and Nick had made in 
the last twenty-four hours had seemed to outweigh all else. Only 
the gun she'd left in her pocketbook was a grim reminder that 
they weren't all out of the woods. 
        She sat down, trying to review her notes on the last 
murder. Her conscience tugged at her as she realized this was one 
more she'd have to fudge to protect "the community". She hoped 
Nick was right, and this was the last. She couldn't take doing 
this for much longer. 
        Lost in thought, she barely heard the door open. "What is 
it, Grace? Not another one, I hope--" 
        But it wasn't her friend's eyes that met hers as she 
looked up. Her heart froze as the little blond girl gave her a 
sickeningly sweet smile. 
        "Divia," she said, standing slowly. 
        "So you know who I am, Natalie." She walked towards her, 
and Natalie cursed herself silently for having left her bag, and 
the gun, across the room.  "Good. I thought it was time we met. 
Don't you agree?" 
        "Absolutely," Natalie replied carefully. She had never 
been one to sense auras. But the evil that this vampire child 
emanated was unequivocal. Yet Natalie couldn't help thinking that 
physically, Divia seemed no older than her niece Amy. 
        "I've been watching you, you know," Divia told her, 
apparently studying her for a reaction. 
        Natalie was careful to give her none, as she replied, 
"Yes, I know." 
        "You seem to have them both...bewitched," she said with 
real interest. "Tell me...are you as desperately in love with 
them as they are with you? Both of them?" 
        Natalie raised her eyebrows. "I think you're mistaken, 
Divia. LaCroix and I are just friends." She'd tactfully avoided 
the question of Nick, knowing full well that that could get her 
throat ripped out. 
        "Oh, but he would wish for much more," Divia replied. 
"And knowing how cold and heartless my father can be...I find 
this all quite fascinating." And Natalie could see from her 
expression that it was true--Divia did have some sick enchantment 
with the whole situation. "So then am I to assume that it is only 
Nicholas whom you love?" 
        Natalie knew it would be useless to lie. "Yes," she 
admitted truthfully. "I love him very much." 
        But Divia's reaction was far from what she'd expected. 
"Good. Then you should find my proposition quite interesting." 
        "Proposition?" she asked. 
        Divia's eyes lit up, flecked with gold. "Yes. I can help 
you make him mortal again. That is what you both want, isn't it?" 
 
        Natalie wasn't sure if she'd heard correctly. She must 
have appeared utterly stunned, because Divia repeated, "Yes, 
Natalie. I can help you make Nicholas mortal again." 
        "You have a cure." Natalie said it aloud, needing 
confirmation. 
        Divia hesitated. "Not exactly. But I do have the means to 
find one." 
        Natalie was silent, waiting for her to elaborate. 
        "You see, for some time I've been aware of a certain 
legend--one more ancient even than we are--that the blood of a 
vampire can be used to revert those in his or her bloodline back 
to human form. Nicholas is of my line. LaCroix is his master, and 
I am LaCroix's." 
        Natalie didn't need a lesson in Divia's family tree. "You 
mean treating it as if it were a virus--and going back to the 
index case..." 
        "Something like that." Divia seemed bored with the 
specifics. "Science has never interested me, Natalie. I much 
prefer...other diversions." 
        *Like murdering young men*, Natalie wanted to say, but 
held her tongue. 
        "I've watched you, Natalie. And...I've heard about you. 
Your intelligence is something both Nicholas and LaCroix respect 
greatly. And I believe that given what I know, and provided with 
the right...resources...you could find the cure." 
        "And what *resources* would those be?" she asked 
suspiciously. 
        "Samples of my blood. I'll let you draw it yourself." 
        Natalie was stupefied. 
        "Think of it, Natalie," she said, with that same gold- 
speckled gleam of excitement in her eyes. "Nicholas could be 
human -- and all yours. Free of all his ties to the vampire 
world." 
        "At what price?" Natalie asked boldly. "Why would you 
possibly make this offer unless there were something you wanted 
in return?" 
        Divia seemed taken aback, if only for a moment. "Very 
good, Natalie. As perceptive as I would have hoped. The price is 
small. Once you have found the cure...I will expect you to turn 
it over to me." 
        It all became painfully clear. "To use against 
LaCroix...Janette." 
        Divia smiled sweetly. "If I please." 
        "I won't do it then," she said softly, although it broke 
her heart to know the cure was within her grasp. "I won't help 
you destroy them." 
        Divia's glare became hard. "Are you certain, Doctor 
Lambert? Think before you respond. There are others who could do 
this too, you know." 
        "Then let them," she replied sharply. 
        She knew it had been a mistake as soon as the words left 
her mouth. Divia's transformation was swift and severe. Her eyes 
were flaming red, and her fangs were bared as if poised to 
strike. Natalie knew terror as Divia's hand clasped her neck, her 
nails clawing into her skin. 
        "You think yourself so brave," she snarled in a voice 
much deeper than moments before. "I could have swatted you like a 
fly, or put you under my control. But instead, I gave you a 
choice. Now I ask again, will you accept my offer--yes or no?" 
        The possibilities flashed through her mind at the speed 
of light. If she declined, Divia would kill her. Of that she had 
no doubt. Natalie didn't want to die. And she knew that her death 
would devastate Nick. To have finally come together like this, 
only to lose each other again...she couldn't bear the tragic 
irony of it. Nor could she bear to be an agent of LaCroix's 
destruction. And yet, if she were to die, Divia would still find 
a way to destroy them all... 
        If she lived, she could warn them. Yes, agree to Divia's 
terms, and warn LaCroix of her plan. And perhaps she *could* find 
a cure, bring Nick back across... 
        She could do none of this if she were dead. 
        "Yes," she gasped as Divia's fingers dug into her throat, 
threatening to snap her neck at any moment. "Yes...I'll...do it!" 
        She could breathe again. She grabbed her throat as if to 
make sure it were all in one piece. When she drew her hand away, 
her fingers were wet with her own blood. 
        Divia had transformed back into that deceptively sweet 
little girl, and was smiling at her brightly. "There. Isn't that 
better?" 
        Natalie said nothing, too angry to trust herself not to 
get herself killed. Taking a moment to beocme composed, she said, 
"Okay. When do we start?"  
        Divia held out her arm, rolling up her sleeve to expose 
the paper white skin beneath. "Now." 
        Natalie tried to repress her pleasure as she opened up a 
clean syringe and needle. 
        She would enjoy taking her blood. 
 
        She'd called Nick immediately after Divia had gone, and 
he'd arrived so quickly that she knew he must have flown from the 
station.  
        "Are you all right?" he cried, rushing to take her into 
his arms. Only as he hugged her close to him did he notice the 
dried blood on her neck, and the huge purple bruises that were 
beginning to form. "Oh my God," he whispered, separating from 
her, and reaching to examine her neck. "Let me see this..." 
        "Careful," she told him, wincing even at his light touch. 
"It's okay--" 
        "I'll kill her!" he vowed, his eyes burning. 
        "It's all right. They're from her nails--" 
        "What happened?" he demanded. 
        "She made me an offer I couldn't refuse," she told him 
flatly, as he searched her eyes to see if she was really all 
right. "But I have a feeling that if I had turned her down, she 
definitely would have used her fangs on the next round." 
        Nick was livid. "I'll destroy her for this, Nat. I 
promise you--" 
        "No, Nick, listen first...." 
        And she told him the entire story. Yet even the hope of a 
cure did not chase the worry from his eyes. 
        "And she gave you blood?" he asked in disbelief. 
        She motioned to the six vials on her desk. "Nick, it's 
worth a try," she said, wishing some of her optimism would rub 
off on him. "If I can compare her blood to yours--" 
        "Nat, this is insane! You can't trust her!" 
        "Maybe not," she told him. "But did I really have a 
choice?!" She motioned to the wounds Divia had inflicted, and he 
sighed in frustration. "I didn't ask for this--" 
        "I know," he said, coming to put his hands on her arms. 
"But we're dealing with fire, here. She's not like me, or 
Janette, or even LaCroix. She's devious...evil...and not very 
sane. And she can't be tricked--" 
        "We'll warn LaCroix, and Janette--" 
        "Don't you think she expects you to do that?" 
        "Maybe not, Nick. She knows I'm in love with you, and she 
knows how desperately we both want for you to be human again--" 
        "It's a dangerous game, Natalie." She had never seen such 
fear in his eyes. 
        "I know. But I just didn't know what to do, except play 
along." 
        "There's nothing else you could have done," he admitted 
grimly. "But I'm not leaving you alone again." 
        "You have to tell LaCroix--and Janette." 
        He nodded his agreement. "I'm sure they're at the Raven. 
You're coming with me, though." 
        "Oh, no. You're not getting met to budge until I've 
looked at those samples." 
        "Nat, don't argue with me! What if she comes back?" 
        "I'll be doing just what she wants me to--working on the 
cure. Nick, she's not going to hurt me now that I've agreed to do 
this." 
        "Natalie--" His expression was dubious. 
        "Please, Nick. This is so important to me...to you..." 
She moved her face closer to his, caressing his cheek. "To us. 
        He kissed her. "Nat...I just don't want anything to 
happen to you..." he said, his face filled with distress. 
        "I'll be okay," she promised. "Just go talk to 
LaCroix...let him know what's going on." 
        Reluctantly he agreed. "When I get back--" he warned. 
        "You can sit in that chair and watch me work on this if 
you like. And then when I'm done---" 
        "I'm taking you home. And I'm not leaving your side until 
this is over." 
         "Now *that* sounds like fun," she told him with a smile, 
giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, then pushing him towards 
the door. "Now, go. And let me get started on this." 
        She was too busy examining the blood samples to notice 
him looking back at her with apprehension before turning to 
leave. 
 
        LaCroix sat impatiently at the bar, glaring at Janette. 
"This is useless! I can not endure this waiting..." 
        "Nicolas said she would be coming--" Janette cut herself 
off much too quickly, and he turned to follow her stare. 
        "Hello, Father." 
        Divia wore the same malevolent smile as she had the day 
he'd come back from his campaign in Gaul to find her transformed. 
Yet how different she seemed! With hair loosely about her 
shoulders, a generous helping of makeup, tight jeans and black 
spandex top, she looked like any young college freshman. He 
could easily see how she had learned to use her womanly wiles to 
attract prey. 
        With a serious edge of sarcasm in his voice, he said,  
"My, how my little girl has grown up." 
        "Still charming as always," she said dryly, then turned 
to Janette, who was silently eyeing her with suspicion. "I *do* 
appreciate your hospitality, Janette. It seems that feeding on 
mortals is frowned upon in Toronto." 
        "You endangered our entire community!" Janette said 
suddenly, unable to contain her anger. "If Natalie hadn't been 
able to cover up--" 
        LaCroix silenced her with a warning look, and a  hand 
over hers. He didn't want to see Janette incite Divia's wrath. 
This wasn't the place for another battle like their last. 
        "Ah, yes, *Natalie*," Divia said with a sneer. "Tell me, 
Janette, how does it feel to have Nicholas replace you with a 
mere mortal?" 
        Janette was about to respond when LaCroix broke in, 
"Let's dispense with the small talk, shall we? Why don't you tell 
us why you're here...?" 
        "Because you need me," she responded, turning her 
attention back to him. "You've grown soft, LaCroix. You've 
forgotten all I taught you. And you've let this mortal woman make 
a fool of you." 
        "This is none of your affair," he said evenly. 
        "Ah, but it is. *You* are my concern. That's why I tested 
her loyalty to you." She looked at him with an evil glint in her 
eyes as she said, "She failed." 
        LaCroix could feel the anxiety building inside him. "If 
you've done anything to her--" he began, his eyes taking on the 
amber glow of his anger. 
        "Oh, I haven't harmed her. But *you* may when you learn 
her real intentions for you. You see, I told her the legend of 
the Master's Blood. I offered her mine, to cure Nicholas. In 
exchange, she will give me the cure--so I can use it against 
you." 
        "You're lying." 
        "Oh, she agreed quite willingly, Father. You see, no 
matter what she has told you--or *done* with you--," she said 
with meaning, "it's Nicholas whom she loves. And she will do 
anything to have him. Even if it means betraying you to me." 
        "She would never agree to that," he snarled at her, 
though he knew that in his rage he was revealing just how much 
doubt she had planted in his mind. 
        "I wouldn't be surprised if that had been her plan all 
along. To deceive you into loving her, so that when you were most 
vulnerable she could take *your* blood to use in her research for 
a cure. Do you mean to say that thought has never occurred to 
you?" she asked with a wide-eyed honesty that was all too 
convincing. She downed the glass of blood Janette had set in 
front of her, while she let her words sink in. 
        "You don't know her," LaCroix hissed at her. 
        She set down the glass. "No, Father, it is *you* who do 
not know her.  She has made a fool of you, and you are too 
blinded by your love to realize it."  She stood. "You needn't 
take my word. See for yourself. Go to her laboratory, and see her 
working diligently on the blood samples I gave her. And then tell 
me that she is not prepared to betray you out of her love for 
Nicholas! He has always wanted mortality, and freedom from you. 
Well, she intends to provide him with both!" 
        He could feel the blood that he had drunk churning in the 
pit of his stomach. He could no longer control his eyes, that had 
taken on a permanent yellow glow. As Divia left, Janette came 
around to face him, putting her hands on his arms. 
        "Don't believe her, LaCroix. You know what she does. 
Trying to turn us all against each other. She's jealous of 
Natalie, and wants to use your feelings against you--" 
        "I have to know," he said in a voice that was more like a 
growl. He was losing control, flying into a rage that he could 
see reflected in Janette's frightened expression. Divia was 
right--he had become weak, vulnerable with his love for Natalie. 
He remembered the night when he had come so close to making love 
to her--she had pulled away because she still loved Nicholas. Had 
her passion with him, the eagerness of her kiss, been nothing 
more than a deception? She'd been furious with Nicholas, told him 
she wished never to see him again...yet had come to him begging 
him not to harm Nicholas...immediately before Nicholas had come 
bursting into the radio station. Had it all been a ruse, some 
clever manipulation to make Nicholas jealous? Had she known he 
would come? Nicholas had nearly killed her. Yet she had run after 
him...and LaCroix had not heard from her since. 
        "What a fool I've been..." he murmured. 
        "LaCroix! No!" he heard Janette say. But the words had 
barely escaped her lips before he had fled from the Raven and 
taken flight. 
        He had to know. And if it were true.... 
        She would pay. 
 
        Nick pushed his way past the crowd in the Raven, to find 
Janette sitting at the bar, her face troubled as she drank her 
blood-wine mixture. "Janette, I need to find LaCroix..." 
        "Is it true, Nicolas? Did she really agree to give Divia 
the means to destroy us, in exchange for the blood to find your 
cure?" Her blue eyes were so large with worry that it infuriated 
him. 
        "How can you think she would do such a thing?! Divia 
nearly killed her! She agreed to save her life. She sent me here 
to warn you and LaCroix--" Sudden terror gripped him. "Where's 
LaCroix?" 
        "He was furious, Nick! Divia convinced him that Natalie 
had betrayed him!" 
        "Where is he, Janette?!" he cried, grabbing her arms and 
shaking her. 
        There was fear in his eyes, and he wasn't sure if she 
were afraid of his reaction or afraid of LaCroix. 
        "Janette, please," he begged, loosening his grip on her. 
        Sudden sadness filled her face. "Nicolas--he went to find 
Natalie. I'm afraid it's already too--" 
        He made no effort to hide his vampiric speed as he ran 
from the club and leapt into the air. 
 
        She'd labeled the vials "Divia", to differentiate them 
from Nick's blood samples which she kept stored as controls. But 
there was so little she could do with her equipment here. She'd 
have to call Whittaker tomorrow; she'd definitely need the 
electron microscope for this. If Divia's blood contained the same 
extra nucleotides.... 
        A swishing sound as the door opened. She turned with a 
smile. Could Nick be back already? 
        "LaCroix." She felt suddenly guilty for not having spoken 
to him sooner. 
        "Hello, Natalie." His eyes were dead as they bore through 
her. 
        "Did Nick find you? He just went--" 
        "No," he said, making her uneasy with his glare. "I 
haven't seen Nicholas since I spared his life...at your request." 
        "What's wrong?" she asked, stepping towards him. 
        "As far as you're concerned, nothing," he replied. "I 
hear you and Nicholas have resolved your problems." 
        It was like an accusation. "We've...made a start," she 
replied. "But it takes time to rebuild trust." 
        "Trust," he repeated, moving closer, to look directly 
into her eyes. "How often it's misplaced." 
        "What's happened, LaCroix? Why are you acting like this?" 
        "Because you betrayed me!" 
        Her eyes opened wide. "LaCroix, I never betrayed you--" 
        Her words were cut off as his hand impacted on her face, 
slamming her onto the floor. 
        For the briefest moment she sat there, dazed by the 
blinding flash of light from the blow to her head. But as he came 
at her again, she pulled herself to her feet to face him. "What 
the hell is going on--?" she demanded. 
        "No," he said, grabbing her by her forearms so tightly 
that the pain was excruciating. "I want to know why you were 
willing to exchange my life for Nicholas' mortality!" 
        It all became painfully clear. Divia had set her up for 
this. "LaCroix, you don't understand. Divia threatened my life 
when I refused. I had to agree--look what she did to me! Look at 
my neck!" 
        For the briefest moment his rage seemed to falter as he 
saw the bruises that Divia had inflicted. But it returned at once 
as he snarled, "You could have told me this--" 
        "I sent Nick to warn you!" 
        "Did you really think Nicholas would care if she 
destroyed me? Especially if it meant his humanity? Don't insult 
my intelligence, Natalie. You know he's already tried once to 
destroy me himself!" 
        For a moment she hesitated. She knew Nick had probably 
just missed LaCroix; but she could see how it must look. 
"LaCroix, please, believe me. I sent him to warn you..." She 
could hear her own voice shaking. But she had never seen him like 
this. His eyes were aflame with his fury, his teeth bared like an 
animal ready to strike. 
        Suddenly, he released her, as his gaze found the vials of 
blood. He lifted two marked "Divia" into the air. "Yes, Natalie. 
You sent Nicholas--because you were too busy already working on 
the cure!" He smashed them to the floor, the blood splattering 
over everything. 
        "No!" she cried, moving to stop him before he could 
destroy the others. But even as she did it she realized that she 
was only feeding his suspicion. 
        "OOPS," he said cruelly as he knocked two more to the 
ground. 
        "Stop it!" she shouted, grabbing his arm before he could 
take the others. 
        He swung around to lock her in his grip before she even 
realized it. "He nearly killed you! Yet you ran off after him! 
And you didn't even bother to let me know that you were safe!" 
        "I'm sorry..." she said, seeing his hurt through the 
anger. 
        "I trusted you. I...cared for you," he spat at her, his 
hands sending chills through her body as they made their way to 
her neck. 
        She was shaking now from fear. She knew what he meant to 
do. And he held her too tightly for her to break free, or reach 
for the gun. "Please, LaCroix.  Believe me. I never meant to hurt 
you," she whispered. 
        His breath was hot as he brought his mouth to her neck, 
licking it. "That's a shame," he replied. "Because I *do* mean to 
hurt *you*." 
        The scream had no time to escape her throat. Suddenly her 
entire being was overwhelmed by  intense pain as his fangs bore 
into her flesh. And at once she could feel him draining her 
energy, her life essence...her soul. Even the pain seemed to slip 
away with the last gasp of her dying body.... 
        And then, there was nothing. 
 
     He tore into her with his rage, feeding his fury with her 
blood, assuaging the hunger to alleviate the pain of her 
betrayal. He *had* loved her, trusted her as no one in 
centuries...and she had repaid him with treachery.... He should 
have known better. He should never have let down his guard.... 
     Yet as her life essence passed through his lips, the anger 
gave way to something much sweeter....pure, unmitigated, ecstasy. 
How he had longed for this...how he had imagined the joy of a 
union with her, the taste of a blood more precious than he had 
ever known...and with each moment, as she filled him, sated him, 
he could feel her spirit become part of him.... 
     Sudden sorrow overwhelmed him, nearly sending him reeling. 
He hadn't wanted it to be like this! And then the sadness was 
hers, and he could feel it in her blood, the pain, the 
anguish.... 
     *I did not betray you, LaCroix....* 
     Her words reverberated through his mind; no, not her words, 
but her thoughts, her feelings, assaulting him involuntarily as 
he drained her of life. He pulled away in horror, still licking 
her blood on his lips. And as he looked down upon her pale white 
skin, so like that nightmare of days ago, he knew. 
     She had been telling the truth. 
     His grief rose up into his throat, as a single sob escaped 
his lips. "No," he moaned, cradling her still form in his arms. 
He kissed her lips lightly as he felt the blood tears welling in 
his eyes. There was still life; but barely. And he knew that she 
had begun that journey towards the light, the light of peace, and 
of death. 
     "Come back, Natalie," he whispered urgently into her ear. 
"Come back....don't leave Nicholas...don't leave *me*...." 
 
     Pain. Blackness. Nothing. And then.... 
     She awoke with a start, to clear blue skies above her. 
Confused, she pulled herself effortlessly to her feet, and stood 
for a long moment, taking in her surroundings. 
     She was alone. And as she surveyed the endless, lifeless 
quarry, the still blue lake, and silent sky, she knew. God help 
her, she knew. 
     She hadn't believed Nick. Not completely. And yet as she 
stood here now, all her scientific protestations about 
hallucinations of a dying brain went out the window. He had been 
right. And now, *she* was here. 
     Dead. 
     Or, near death. She wanted to panic, to run...But she could 
no more feel her own fear than perceive the wind against her face 
or the warmth of the sun beating down upon her. Her only 
sensation was of peace...of safety. 
     She lifted her fingers to her neck, where LaCroix had ripped 
into her flesh.  There was nothing there. How could there be? She 
remembered floating as she'd left that vessel of pain that had 
been her physical body. In her mind she could see it, ravaged and 
pale, all life gone. But it didn't seem to matter now. That 
lifeless husk wasn't Natalie Lambert--she was here, now, far from 
LaCroix, far from the pain.... 
     ...far from Nick. 
     What would he do without her? 
     For a moment she looked back at the spot where she'd awoken, 
willing herself to see what she knew she could not. It was too 
late. It was all over. Time to move on.... 
     And as she turned back, it was there. The doorway. The 
light. Warm, inviting....beautiful. Was it heaven? God? Jesus? So 
much she wanted to know.... 
     And as she stood transfixed by its magnificence, the pure 
good that beckoned her to be reclaimed, a figure began to emerge. 
A man, blond, his smile beautific, his hands outstretched, his 
white robes flowing in the energy of the light. And as she 
stepped closer, she could see.... 
     "Richard..." she whispered. 
     Her brother. Lost to her in that tragedy, enveloped in that 
evil by her own doing....an angel. At peace. "Join us, Natalie," 
he said, reaching out his hand to her as he stepped from the 
light. "We've been waiting for you.  Mom...Dad...Marie...." 
     All dead. Her parents. Her baby sister. And Richard. Yet 
within her grasp.  Her heart had cried in anguish for them...and 
now she could rejoin them....Tears filled her eyes, as he took 
her hand. Not flesh, but energy, his soul touching hers. And she 
knew that he had found peace...that he had atoned for the evil 
that had been beyond his culpability...that he was with God.... 
     "And you can join us, Natalie," he said aloud, as if reading 
her thoughts.  "All you need to do is follow me into the light. 
The choice is yours...." 
     She took a step forward. It was so beautiful, so 
compelling....and her heart ached so to see them...to know the 
answers to the questions she had pondered her entire life...for 
everything lay beyond the light. She knew that now. Her family. 
Her repose. God. Eternity. 
     "You must choose, Natalie," Richard repeated. 
     His words rang in her ears...and she stopped. "Choice?" she 
asked, her eyes still riveted to the light. "Do you mean...I'm 
not dead?" 
     "Only evil can keep you tied to the Earth now," he warned.    
  She looked into his eyes. "You mean--LaCroix wants to bring me 
across? Make me a vampire?" 
     And suddenly, the spell broken, she could hear him. Calling 
her...begging her not to leave him...not to leave Nick.... 
     She took both of Richard's hands, as if in touching him she 
could sense the truth. "What will happen to Nick if I don't go 
back?" she asked. 
     "He is already lost...his soul is damned..." 
     "But he wants to change," she told him insistently. "He's 
trying...so we can have a life together...." 
     "You are his source of light," he told her matter-of-factly. 
"He doesn't have the faith to do it on his own. That is why he 
will never succeed." 
     "You mean....if I don't go back...he'll stop trying," she 
said, wanting to understand. 
     Richard nodded slowly. "But if you go back...the evil will 
envelope you. You risk your soul--" 
     "To save his," she said softly. "That's it, isn't it? The 
only way I can help Nick is if I go back...let LaCroix...bring me 
across." 
     She could see a moment of pain flash through her brother's 
eyes, disturbing his otherwise serene countenance. "Natalie...if 
the evil engulfs you...you may never rejoin us...and you, too, 
will be damned..." 
     A pang went through her heart as she thought of 
them...longing to be with them.... She could wait if she had 
to...but to lose them forever? To be lost to them forever? 
     "The evil is seductive...alluring...it can engulf you. And 
if it does...." 
     "I won't let it," she promised, and reached up to kiss him 
on the cheek. And as his spirit encircled hers, she felt she 
would cry for joy and sorrow...to be with him...and to know she 
might never be with him again. To know, because she could feel it 
in his essence, that he forgave her.  "Good bye, Richie," she 
whispered. "Tell them...I love them...I love *you*...and I'll be 
with you soon. I promise." 
     She saw a smile on his lips as his stepped backwards and 
disappeared into the light. And then, that too was gone. 
     And she heard it again. LaCroix's voice. 
     "*Will you drink from me, my precious Natalie? Will you let 
me give you back the life I took?*" 
     "Yes," she whispered. 
     And the darkness engulfed her once more. 
     *His* darkness consumed her, as she consumed him. The taste 
on her lips like metal, warm, delicious, filling her body with 
his essence, his energy, his life.... 
     ...his evil. 
     Yet it invigorated her. She was alive. She was back. And 
with an uncontrollable thirst, she clutched his wrist, drinking, 
taking, wanting more.... 
     Suddenly, he pulled away. She moaned weakly, lifting her 
head, looking for him. At once he was there, reaching down to 
kiss her on the lips. 
     "You must rest, my love..." 
     Her vision blurred. Consciousness had brought back her last 
moments of life--of death--making everything that had happened in 
the darkness seem so unreal.... She saw LaCroix's face and 
suddenly she was afraid. Suddenly she knew what he had 
done...what she was.... 
     "Where's Nick?" she whimpered. 
     But darkness fell again--the darkness of sleep. And in her 
dreams, LaCroix carried her away from Richard...and into Nick's 
arms. 
     "Sleep," he was commanding her. 
     She would. For she knew when she awoke Nick would be there. 
Maybe it had all been just a terrible nightmare.... 
 
        He kissed her lightly, tasting his own blood on her lips. 
How cold she was now--as cold as he was. A pang went through his 
heart as he remembered her delicious warmth. He had taken that 
from her. And she might never forgive him. "You must rest, my 
love," he said softly. 
        She looked up at him in confusion. She'd journeyed to 
death and back, and only now was it becoming clear to her. And as 
her eyes focused on him, they filled with something he had never 
seen in her. 
        Fear. Fear of him. She knew what he had done. What she 
was. "Where's Nick?" she wept, barely audible. 
        "Sleep," he told her, gently yet forcefully. In her 
current weakened state, she would obey. She'd have to. It was the 
only way to regain her strength. 
        Scooping her into his arms, he flew off with her, to the 
only place where he knew he could leave her safely. He entered 
the Raven through the back, and set her down on Janette's couch. 
Janette had sensed him, and came rushing in.  Her eyes opened 
wide. 
        "What have you done to her?" she whispered, horrified. 
        He stood from where he had been kneeling by Natalie's 
still form. "She's one of us, now," he told her wearily. 
        He was beginning to feel his own loss of blood. Janette 
seemed to notice, and quickly brought him a bottle. He downed it 
at once. "I had no choice," he said, as he felt his strength 
returning. "She would have died." 
        "I think she would have preferred that," Janette told him 
plainly. "What happened?" 
        "I killed her," he said, not without shame. "For what 
Divia told me. Only when I tasted her blood did I know that she 
hadn't betrayed me. But by then it was too late. I'd drained her, 
but...." His voice trailed off. 
        Janette put a hand affectionately on his arm. "I 
know...you couldn't bear to let her die." 
        He shook his head, then straightened himself up, not 
comfortable letting his emotions show. "I want you to watch over 
her, Janette. I must find Divia--" 
        "And what will I tell Nicolas?" 
        He hesitated, remembering the fear in Natalie's eyes, and 
how she had called for Nicholas. "Tell him...I'm truly sorry." 
        Janette just looked at him. 
        His eyes were suddenly flaming red, his voice deep as he 
added, "And tell him that Divia will pay." 
 
        He burst into her office, terrified by the fact that he 
sensed no heartbeat, heard no voices.... 
        Blood was everywhere. And as he picked up the broken 
remnants of a glass vial, he saw the label which read, "Divia". 
        It wasn't Natalie's blood. 
        But where the hell was she?! 
        Her bag was here. He looked inside quickly to find the 
gun he had given her.  It had not been fired. He shoved it into 
his own pocket as he pulled out his cell phone, punching in her 
home number. It rang and rang. Impatiently, he dialed Janette's 
private phone. 
        She answered at once. 
        "Janette, have you seen them?! Natalie's gone!" He knew 
he was shouting out of panic. 
        "She's here, Nicolas--" 
        Somehow he could not feel relieved. There was something 
in her voice.... 
        "Janette, what's happened to her?! Is she all right?" 
        "She will be. But I think you'd better get here as soon 
as possible." 
        He hung up as he ran from the building, taking to the 
air, heedless of whether or not anyone had seen him lift off. 
 
        He made his way through the crowd to the back room. He 
hadn't known what he would find, and his imagination had run 
wild. But the scene that met him was totally unexpected. 
        Janette lay on the floor, bruised and bloodied. Even as 
he ran to help her up, she seemed stunned, as if whatever had 
happened had taken place only moments before. "Nicolas..." Her 
voice was filled with pain, and he realized as she reached for 
her ribs that the bruises on her face, already beginning to heal, 
were probably the least of her injuries. Whoever had done this to 
her, had broken a few bones. 
        "Are you all right? What happened?" he asked as he led 
her to the couch.  "And where's Natalie?" 
        She looked up at him as if afraid to tell him. "It was 
Divia. She's taken Natalie--" 
        "What?!" He felt as if he would lose his mind. "Janette, 
what the hell is going on? Where is she? Why did she take her? 
Where's LaCroix?" 
        "Nick, you must calm down," she told him, taking his 
hands. "I don't know where Divia is...but LaCroix went to find 
her." 
        He tried to contain his dread as he asked the question 
that had burned within him since he'd found her office empty. 
"What did he do to her?" 
        Janette hesitated. 
        "Janette, what did LaCroix do to Natalie?! Tell me!" 
        "Nick, he thought she'd betrayed him." She paused, hating 
to see the anguish in his eyes, then said slowly, "He killed 
her..." 
        His heart rose up into his throat, choking him so that he 
could barely speak. "He what?!" 
        Janette's eyes were full as sympathy as she explained, 
"He drained her. And then, when he realized that Divia had 
tricked him--he brought her over." 
        Natalie. Dead. The agony had barely begun to sink in 
through the utter shock. And now...not dead...but not alive. 
Condemned to the same existence that he abhorred. Defiled. Robbed 
of her humanity. 
        He was too aghast to speak. But suddenly, he turned with 
Janette to see the lone figure enter the room. 
        LaCroix. He had done this. And the thought that a blood 
more precious than Nick's own now ran through LaCroix's veins was 
unbearable. It was unthinkable that he had tasted her blood on 
his lips...violated her...made her one of *his*....Nick's fury 
rose up into his eyes, bathing everything in a crimson glow. He 
flew at LaCroix, grabbing him by the throat. "I'll kill you for 
doing this to her!!" he cried, tightening his grip, his fangs 
extended. 
        LaCroix was weakened, Nick could tell. But even so, he 
pushed Nick off of him with little effort. Nick went flying, 
landing by Janette, who grabbed his arm. 
        "Stop it, both of you!" she cried. 
        But Nick tore away from her, knocking LaCroix to the 
ground, pinning him there. "Where is she?!" he growled. "I want 
to know where she is!" 
        "I left her here!" LaCroix snarled back at him, baring 
his fangs, his own eyes glowing. With an angry rap across the 
face, he sent Nick reeling backwards. 
        "LaCroix, stop it!" Janette shouted. "Divia's taken 
Natalie!" 
        Nick could feel blood spurting from the side of his head, 
where he'd impacted against the floor. But his rage was 
uncontrollable. He would destroy LaCroix for what he'd done...for 
daring to touch her! He reached for the gun, eliciting no 
response from LaCroix whatsoever. 
        Then the shot rang out. And another.  LaCroix was stunned 
as he fell back onto the floor. 
        "What did you do to him?!" Janette screamed, going to 
LaCroix's side. 
        "Our friend seems to have supplied himself with wooden 
bullets," LaCroix told her as she gingerly touched the blood that 
was pouring from the hole in his chest. "Go ahead, Nicholas. 
Finish the job if you must. But do you think you'll destroy Divia 
so easily?" 
        Nick hesitated, still holding the gun on him. "You wanted 
her from the moment you saw her," he accused, his eyes still 
blood-red with his rage. 
        "Not like this," LaCroix said softly, for a moment 
betraying his total defeat. But then his face hardened with his 
own anger. "Divia did this to both of us, you fool. You fell for 
her trickery yourself. Now if you really think you can fight her 
alone, then kill me. But if you truly cared for Natalie, and 
wanted to find her as much as I do, then you'd realize that the 
only way we can fight Divia is if we join together!" 
        "I'll destroy her," Nick vowed. "I don't need you!--" 
        "Nicolas, listen to him," Janette said, putting herself 
between them. 
        "Get out of the way, Janette," he warned, with contempt 
for her for protecting LaCroix. 
        "No," she told him flatly. "Nick, you can't defeat Divia. 
Even the two of us aren't strong enough. But the three of us 
could. It's the only way to bring Natalie back." 
        He began to lower the gun, but still clutched it in his 
hand. Was Janette really willing to help him, stand up against 
Divia to save Natalie? "Janette, I can't let him live after doing 
this..." he said, wishing she could understand. 
        "But you must. If for nothing else, Nicolas, because 
Natalie will need him." 
        "She doesn't need him!" he blustered, lifting the gun 
again. "I'll take care of her...teach her what she needs to 
know...." 
        "And are you ready for that responsibility, Nicholas?" 
LaCroix asked him, struggling to lift himself up despite the 
gashes that were refusing to heal.  "Can you handle it?" 
        "I'm prepared to do whatever I have to, to make this 
easier for her," he replied. 
        "Think of Elizabeth," Janette told him passionately. "And 
Natalie's brother.  If you can't handle it...if you fail...are 
you also prepared to destroy her?" 
        He glared at her. The thought was abhorrent to him. He 
could never harm Natalie. But what if Janette were right? What if 
he couldn't guide her...teach her...if she did go on a rampage as 
Richard had...if he couldn't control her...what would he possibly 
do? 
        Nothing. He knew it in his heart. He would not have the 
will to destroy her.  And no matter how he tried to convince 
himself that it would never come to that, his past failures 
glared at him. No matter what LaCroix was, what he had 
done...only he could teach Natalie, as he had taught Nick, and 
Janette. 
        The thought sickened him. But he wouldn't risk her life, 
her soul, by avenging her now. Reluctantly, he placed the gun 
inside his jacket. "All right," he agreed, as Janette sighed in 
relief and went to help LaCroix dislodge the bullets. "But 
understand this, LaCroix. She may need you to teach her. But she 
is not yours to control. You will never cause her any more pain 
than you already have. I'll see to that." 
        "I have no wish to control her," LaCroix said tiredly, as 
his wounds began to close up, and Janette handed him a bottle of 
blood to replenish all he had lost. He seemed so distracted, and 
despite his ire, Nick suddenly felt that he was telling the 
truth--that LaCroix was a victim in all this, as much as he or 
Natalie had been. LaCroix's eyes were blue once more as he shoved 
away the empty bottle. "I am truly sorry, Nicholas," he said 
sincerely. 
        And in spite of himself, Nick nodded his acknowledgment. 
But he added bitterly, "You'll have to tell Natalie that." 
        LaCroix seemed seriously troubled as he replied with a 
faraway look, "Yes. I know." 
 
        *Blood everywhere....and insatiable thirst. LaCroix's 
fangs sinking into her...excruciating pain...*Nick, help 
me!*...the blood being drained from her... LaCroix's wrist... 
sustenance... life... Richard warning her from the evil... 
LaCroix's lips on hers... *No! Nick, where are you?!... Nick 
coming towards her... *I want you, Nick!*... her own fangs 
piercing his skin, tasting his blood...* 
        She awoke with the taste of his blood on her lips. What 
must it be like? She wanted to know! And as the last remnants of 
sleep gave way to full consciousness, the perversity of her own 
thoughts, her own urges, horrified her. 
        She was a vampire. 
        And she was thirsty. 
        Anger welled in her. LaCroix had done this! At the 
moment, bringing her over wasn't the worst of it. She had chosen 
that. She remembered. She had wanted to come back. To be with 
Nick. To save him. And yet, it was a decision that should never 
have had to be made. 
        But LaCroix had killed her. And she was a fool for ever 
having trusted him.  And what had he done to her now? She stood 
up abruptly, amazed at how clearly she could see in the pitch 
dark. She was in a room, sparsely furnished, with a small cot and 
no windows. The door... She reached to open it... It was locked. 
She had seen Nick do this so many times... she twisted with all 
her strength. The lock snapped. But it wouldn't open. 
        Suddenly, she heard the bolts and chains that must be on 
the other side being slid open. She squinted as the door 
opened...the light seemed blinding.  And as her vision cleared, 
her lips parted in shock. 
        "Divia..." 
        "Hello, Natalie. I trust you've rested well. It's been 
almost a full day since you were...reborn." 
        "I'm thirsty," she said impulsively. Right now her need 
outweighed all else.  "Do you have...cow's blood?" she asked, 
finding it suddenly difficult even to think straight. 
        Divia laughed. "I'm afraid not. That's Nicholas' 
influence, I assume? You'll never get strong on that swill." 
        Natalie could feel her body starting to shake with her 
hunger. "All right...human...anything...in a bottle..." 
        Divia smiled with feigned kindness and shook her head. 
"No, Natalie. You can't start like that." She stepped away for a 
moment, then returned with a little boy, who couldn't be more 
than eight or nine. His eyes were glazed, as if Divia had him in 
her thrall. She shoved the boy towards Natalie. "Go ahead. I 
brought this for you. Can't you feel his heartbeat? Can't you 
smell the blood flowing through his veins?" 
        Natalie knelt in horror to look into the child's dead 
eyes. God help her, she could smell his blood, see the pulse on 
his tiny neck... 
        "Take him, Natalie. See how strong it will make you...." 
        She wanted him. She needed his blood. She could feel her 
own strength slipping away as it had when LaCroix had drained 
her. She wanted to live. She wanted to survive.... 
        "Drink!" Divia urged her, her eyes flecked with gold. 
        *If the evil engulfs you...you too will be damned...* 
Richard's words, and her vow to him, flooded her mind. 
        "No!" she cried in frustration, backing away from the 
child. "Never!" 
        Divia glared at her for a moment before scooping up the 
child and draining him. She tossed him aside in anger. "Would 
that have been so difficult?" she spat. 
        Natalie closed her eyes, willing herself the strength not 
to fall apart.  When she opened them, she took a deep breath and 
said, "Yes. And I won't do it. Ever. Now why are you holding me 
here? Where's Nick? Where's LaCroix?" 
        "Then starve," she said vindictively, before slamming the 
door shut, bolting it once more. Natalie knew she'd pointedly 
ignored her questions. She was trying to break her. 
        "I won't let you," she whispered, then curled up on the 
cot, hoping that in sleep she could forget the hunger that was 
burning within her. 
 
        Nick paced the floor nervously, while Janette watched him 
in silence. "Where the hell can she be? It's nearly dawn, and 
it's been over two days!" 
        "Nick, there's nothing we can do," she said patiently. 
"I've had everyone searching for them all night." 
        "So what does that mean, Janette? That they've left 
town?" 
        She stood to put her arms around him. "Nicolas, please, 
calm down. We're trying our best. And you know Divia has to turn 
up sooner or later. She took blood with her, but only enough for 
a couple of days. She either has to come back here..." 
         "...or there'll be another murder," he finished. "I 
already checked with Schanke. There's been nothing that remotely 
sounds like--" 
        "She's very clever, Nick. Before, she was trying to draw 
you out. This time she'll be careful to cover her tracks." 
        He nodded, then kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you. For 
being here. For putting up with me the last two days." 
        She smiled, patting him on the cheek. "You have been 
difficult. Not to mention that you could use a change of clothes 
and a shave." 
        He returned her smile wearily. "And a good day's sleep," 
he said as he released her. 
        She went to her private bar, pulling out two bottles, 
pouring a glass from each. He accepted the cow's blood, and drank 
it down quickly. He'd forgotten how thirsty he was. He glanced at 
the drink in her hand, but quickly looked away, guilty for the 
thought. 
        It hadn't gone unnoticed. "Do you want some?" she asked. 
        "You know I don't--" 
        "I'm not trying to tempt you, Nicolas," she assured him. 
"But you need your strength to fight Divia..." 
        "I'm fine," he replied. His thoughts weren't on Divia. 
        "You're wondering about what she's drinking..." Janette 
guessed. "If Divia's giving her human blood...or forcing her 
to--" 
        "She won't kill," he said firmly. But she knew him too 
well not to hear the sliver of doubt in his voice. 
        "Nick, she's young," Janette reminded him as she refilled 
his glass. "You're going to have to be patient with her. She may 
do things...you wouldn't approve of. She may not be able to help 
herself." 
        "I know," he admitted. He simply hadn't wanted to think 
about it. 
        "Try not to be hard on her...the adjustment will be 
difficult enough." 
        He nodded, grateful for her reminder. He didn't know how 
Natalie would react to what had happened...how she was reacting 
right now.... Was she frightened?  He remembered what Divia had 
done to Janette. Was Divia mistreating Natalie?  Why was she 
holding her prisoner? 
        A terrifying thought struck him. "Janette...what if Divia 
doesn't have Natalie. What if she..." 
        He couldn't say it. He couldn't  voice his worst 
fear...that Divia had destroyed her...left her out in the sun to 
die.... "I can't lose her..." he whispered, wiping away the blood 
tear that had found its way to the corner of his eye. 
        "You won't," she promised him, squeezing his hand. "We'll 
find her. After all...she is a part of our family now." 
        The thought should have horrified him--that Natalie had 
become part of the world he despised. Yet Janette was right. They 
were all of the same blood now. And in a world where  nothing was 
forever...this connection was the only lasting stability he had. 
And at this moment, it was more of a comfort than a curse. And 
knowing that Natalie would not grow old and die...would be with 
him until they found a cure...was the greatest consolation of 
all. It was selfish, he knew. And he hated himself for thinking 
it. Just as he hated himself for imagining what it would be like 
now to make love to her, to finally taste her blood.... 
        He drank down his last glass of blood and sat on the 
couch. Janette was right. He needed sleep. He had to be ready. 
Natalie needed him. And this time, he would be there for her. 
 
        She awoke from blood-filled dreams, where she'd drunk the 
blood of innocents...relieved by the waking reality of her 
persistent thirst.  Nightmares. Nightmare. Not real.... 
        She lay back on the cot, trying to feel, as Nick did, the 
sun. Was it night?  Was it day? How many nights and days had 
passed? She didn't know. She couldn't even think straight. She 
tried to focus her mind on anything--the months of the year, 
counting to 100...she made it to March, and stopped somewhere 
around fifteen. What was happening to her? 
        She was starving. And she was slowly losing her mind. 
        "Nick," she sobbed, before curling back into a fetal 
position.  Why didn't he come? Was he still angry? Had they ever 
made up? 
        It was all a blur....and she was so, so weak.... 
 
        The third night came and went. Nick's stubble had begun 
to grow into a short beard. And his worry had grown into 
desperation.  "Don't you sense anything?!" he was asking LaCroix 
frantically as they met back at the Raven. "You're supposed to be 
connected...to both of them..." He hated even acknowledging 
LaCroix's bond with Natalie, as her master. But it was a 
fact--and probably the only means now of tracking them. 
        "I feel her presence...but it's so weak," he responded in 
frustration, accepting the glass Janette handed him. 
        Nick took a deep breath. "Then at least we know...she's 
still alive." 
        "Yes," LaCroix said, distracted. 
        "What is it?" Nick prodded, knowing he was holding 
something back. 
        LaCroix's face was grim. "She's weak. She probably hasn't 
fed properly. At her young age that can be very dangerous." 
        "What can happen?" Nick asked quietly. 
        "She could die..." he replied blandly. "Or go insane from 
the hunger." 
        Nick felt the knot in his stomach tighten. "We've got to 
find her, LaCroix.  I can't--" 
        He stopped mid-sentence, as they all turned to see the 
presence that had entered the room. 
        Divia. Nick lunged at her in a frenzy, grabbing her by 
the shoulders. "Where the hell is she? What have you done to 
her?!" 
        "Nicholas!" LaCroix's warning tone made him release her. 
He was right. They couldn't hurt Divia, not without knowing what 
had become of Natalie. If they did, they might never find her. 
Yet his grief and anxiety had made him crazed; his nerves would 
snap at any moment. But he knew that would serve no purpose. He 
felt LaCroix's hand on his shoulder, and he backed away from 
Divia without a word. 
        "My, Nicholas, you look awful, my love," she told him 
with a malevolent gleam in her eye. 
        "Where is she, Divia?" LaCroix growled. 
        "You're new progeny?" she chided him cruelly. "Really, 
Father, you did surprise me. I thought for certain you would 
simply kill her." 
        "For your lies?" he spat. "I never would have touched her 
if it hadn't been for your trickery. You wanted me to kill 
her--what's your game now?" 
        "Oh, I saw much better use for her," she replied 
cryptically. 
        "Is she alive?" Nick broke in, tired of her 
circumvention. 
        "As alive as any of us," she replied. "Although, quite 
difficult to train. I undertook her education myself--but she's 
very strong-willed. She refuses to kill...so she's gone quite 
hungry." 
        Nick's relief that she was alive, and that she had not 
taken a life, was overshadowed by his fear for her. "You mean 
you've starved her?!" he accused, his eyes gleaming deep amber. 
        "Yes," she replied matter-of-factly. "It's a wonderful 
method of control."  She turned to LaCroix. "Wouldn't you agree, 
Father? Do you remember when we used it on Nicholas, when *he* 
refused to kill?" 
        LaCroix's face was like stone as he replied, "He was 
older--controlled.  She's a newborn vampire--you know how 
dangerous that can be!" 
        "Precisely," she said smugly. "Which is why I know you'll 
both agree to my terms." 
        "And just what are your terms?" Nick hissed at her, his 
fangs bared. 
        She walked over to him, unperturbed by his fury, and put 
a hand on his cheek. "Very simple, my love. When I leave town 
tomorrow...you will come with me. As my companion. My lover." She 
looked at LaCroix. "And you, Father, will be rewarded for your 
cooperation. I'll give you back your precious Natalie.  And with 
Nicholas gone, she'll be yours. Entirely." She smiled deviously.  
"That is what you want, isn't it?" 
 
        LaCroix glared at her. "You're mad." 
        "No, Father. I'm quite sane. And I know you. You desire 
her. And you have never deprived yourself anything. You wanted 
her. And you made her yours. I only provided an excuse for you to 
do it."  She smiled triumphantly, glancing at Nick. "Now, you 
will have what you want, and so will I." 
        LaCroix took a step towards her. "And what makes you 
think that either Nicholas or I will agree to this proposition of 
yours?" he asked disdainfully. 
        "*You* will because you want her. And *he* will because 
he loves her. He knows that she is young--weak--and I could 
destroy her at any time, if it so pleased me." Her stare was hard 
as she added, "You can not protect her. You lived free for 
centuries because I permitted it. You know that, don't you?" 
        LaCroix glowered at her silently. And as Nick studied his 
master's reaction, he knew that it was true. LaCroix did fear 
her! For just as LaCroix had pursued him through the centuries, 
torturing him with his possessiveness, so had Divia pursued 
LaCroix.  And she could again, if she so wished it. They were 
connected--just as LaCroix now shared a bond with Natalie. And 
through LaCroix, Divia would always be able to find her. 
        "I have no desire to interfere in your life, Father," she 
said, her voice becoming deceptively kind. "It is Nicholas whom I 
desire. And he knows that as long as he remains with me, Natalie 
will be unharmed." She turned her attention to Nick, who'd been 
listening silently. "So quiet, my love? Have you no opinion of my 
proposal?" 
        "I do," he said with an edge of contempt in his voice. 
"But it would probably be in my best interest not to give it." 
        "Well, I suppose your feelings on the matter aren't that 
important," she said with boredom. "It's your decision I need." 
        "Then you have it," he said without hesitation. "I 
agree--as long as I see Natalie freed safely first." 
        Janette looked at him wide-eyed. "Nicolas!" 
        Even LaCroix seemed stunned. "Nicholas, you can't 
seriously go along with this--" 
        "Perhaps I should let you two discuss this--" Divia 
offered, obviously pleased that Nick had given in so easily. 
"Janette, would you mind finding me something to drink?" she 
asked with feigned politeness. It was really a command, and 
Janette knew it. 
        "Yes. Come with me," Janette responded nervously, her 
eyes darting between Nick and LaCroix. Nick gave her a gentle nod 
which told her to occupy Divia as long as possible. 
        When the women had left, LaCroix turned to him in 
disbelief. "Nicholas, you can't possibly trust her--" 
        "I don't," he replied. "But I don't see that I have a 
choice. We have no idea where she's keeping Natalie. She's 
starving. We have to find her." 
        LaCroix nodded grimly. "I know Divia. She certainly can't 
believe that you'd be willing to go off with her and leave 
Natalie here with me." 
        Nick tensed just at the thought of it. "I have no 
intention of leaving her in your hands for long," he said with 
derision. "And Divia knows that. She knows she can't keep me 
indefinitely. But she doesn't want to. This is a lark for her.  
She's like a child, looking for a temporary diversion." 
        LaCroix agreed. "She *will* tire of you. And if it is her 
decision to let you go, she'll have no interest in harming 
Natalie. But if you do try to escape from her--" 
        "I know," he broke in grimly. "She'll track you 
down...and destroy Natalie." 
        LaCroix was silent for a moment, his expression one of 
discomfort as if he were searching for the right words. 
"Nicholas--I wish I could tell you that I could...safeguard her 
from Divia. But I can't. Divia is relentless...and--" 
        "I know, LaCroix," Nick said, betraying a tinge of 
compassion. He knew it was a difficult admission for LaCroix. 
Vulnerability was something alien to him. Nick almost felt sorry 
for him. Yet he could not help but add with bitterness, "I 
suppose she taught you well." 
        LaCroix looked into his eyes as a moment of understanding 
passed between them. For once, each could understand the plight 
of the other. "I won't hurt her, you know. I will take care of 
her until you return." 
        Nick took a deep breath. Even the thought of leaving 
Natalie with him for a moment was excruciating. "I...appreciate 
that. But hopefully, it won't ever get to that point." 
        LaCroix looked at him questioningly. "I thought you were 
agreed to go with her?" 
        "I will go, as a last resort," he replied blandly. 
"That's only if our plan doesn't work." 
        LaCroix raised an eyebrow. "Plan?" 
        "Yes. We rescue Natalie--and then *you* rescue *me*." 
        Nick had no time to wait for LaCroix's response. They 
both turned at once as they sensed Divia and Janette returning. 
Divia carried a half-empty bottle of blood-wine in her hand, her 
eyes still amber from the enjoyment of her feast.  Janette seemed 
relieved to be back in their presence. She carried a brown paper 
bag in her arms. 
        "Supplies. For Natalie," she explained. 
        Nick nodded gratefully, giving her a slight smile. 
        "It's human, Nick," she told him. "I know how you feel 
about that, but she's young; she needs it to grow strong." 
        "I know. It's okay," he assured her, but Divia was 
shaking her head. 
        "I'm afraid she'll need something much stronger than 
that. She's totally lost control...and will possibly be quite mad 
from her thirst." 
        Nick felt his rage welling within him, and fought to keep 
his fangs from extending as he replied, "What do you suggest?" 
        "She'll need my blood," LaCroix said dully, as if he knew 
the reaction he would elicit. 
        Nick was fuming. "I will *not* stand by while you--!" 
        "Nicolas, it could be the only thing to bring her out of 
it," Janette told him gently. "You must think of what's best for 
Natalie now. At this early stage, she could lose her mind from 
the hunger. He's connected with her. He's the only one who can 
get through to her. Blood alone won't do it." 
        He breathed deeply to suppress his outrage. He knew she 
was right. But he didn't know how he would be able to watch the 
intimate exchange. "Let's go, then," he said in clipped tones. He 
indicated the bag. "But bring that--just in case." 
        "Are you sure you want to go now?" Divia asked. "It's 
less than two hours before sunrise--" 
        "Now." This time he could not prevent his eyes from 
glowing as red as the coming dawn. 
 
        Together they flew to the outskirts of town, where Divia 
had rented an old townhouse. The property was secluded, and way 
off the beaten path. Even if Natalie had been able to escape, she 
never would have found her way back to Toronto. 
        Natalie. Nick could swear his heart quickened at the 
thought of seeing her again. But he knew he'd have to brace 
himself for the worst. She was a vampire now. A starving, 
possibly frenzied, vampire. Not the same as she had been. Yet he 
knew that even the evil LaCroix had inflicted upon her could not 
change her spirit, her heart. She would still be the Natalie he 
loved. 
        Bringing her back to health would be the least of their 
problems. How would she adjust? And what would he do if he did 
have to leave her? LaCroix wouldn't harm her. But Nick couldn't 
live apart from her. Not now. Not when she needed him so.... 
        He'd kill Divia before he'd part from Natalie. 
        But first...to find her. "Where is she?" he growled 
impatiently  as Divia let them into the house. It had been 
furnished before she'd moved in, but she'd taken the time to 
install thick blinds to keep out the sunlight. Good.  They might 
find themselves spending the day here. 
        Divia passed through the house, expecting the other three 
to follow. She led them down a hallway to a room heavily bolted 
and chained. Nick strained to hear her. But there was nothing. 
        "It's soundproof," she told him. "I'm told a musician 
lived here. He had it insulated so no one could hear him practice 
late at night." She smiled malevolently. "Her screams would have 
kept me awake. It was a perfect place to keep her." 
        Nick felt LaCroix's hand on his shoulder. It kept him 
from ripping Divia from the door and barging inside. His entire 
body tensed for the eternity it took her to open the bolts.... 
        The door swung open, bathing the tiny room in light. 
She'd kept her in total darkness! They stepped in, seeing no 
one... 
        She was crouched on the floor, blinded suddenly by the 
light. Nick took in a breath as he saw her. Her eyes were flaming 
red, her expression that of a crazed animal. Her fangs were 
extended, blood dripping from her lips where she had bitten 
herself. She looked at them without recognition. And suddenly, 
as her vision cleared, her hunger registered prey. She lunged at 
them. 
        LaCroix reached out to grab her, holding her struggling 
form at arm's length, trying to catch her eyes with his own. Nick 
stepped towards them in agony, wanting to take her into his 
arms...but Janette held him back. God, Janette had been right! 
Only LaCroix's blood could bring her out of this.... 
        In anguish, he watched as LaCroix forcefully but gently 
brought Natalie's face to his neck. It was instinct now. Pure 
hunger. LaCroix's face betrayed no more than discomfort as she 
ripped into his flesh, feeding as she never had, but as her new 
nature told her she must. Nick wanted to close his eyes.  He 
didn't want to see her like this. He didn't want to see her with 
*him*.  But he had to. It was his own fault that this horrific 
fate had befallen her.  His love had done this to her. He was 
just as guilty as LaCroix. 
        Natalie's hunger had abated. Carefully, LaCroix pulled 
her from him.  She was calm now.  Yet still so far away... She 
let LaCroix take her face in his hands, look into her eyes.... 
        ....and suddenly, recognition. Slowly, she backed away 
from him, as if in terror, her lips parting even as she tasted 
the blood that still lingered.  With a shaking hand, she covered 
her mouth as she realized what had just happened. Her eyes opened 
wide as she retreated. "Get away from me!" she said hoarsely, 
putting her hands out as if to keep him at a distance. 
        LaCroix was motionless. He had expected this. And as he 
stepped aside, letting Janette take his arm, he softly said, 
"Nicholas...go to her..." 
        But Natalie was backing away from all of them. Seeing 
that Nick was there, that he had witnessed this all, served only 
to intensify her horror. 
        "Nat, it's okay. It's me," he said, making his way toward 
her. 
        Her eyes filled with blood tears. "No, Nick. Don't look 
at me," she said in a pain-filled voice, as she attempted to turn 
her face away. "I don't want you to see me like this..." 
        "It's okay" he said, his voice filled with emotion as he 
wrapped his arms around her. "It's okay." 
        She was still too weak to resist. She collapsed in his 
arms, sobbing. 
        "It's going to be all right now," he told her, caressing 
her hair, kissing her cheek. "You're safe now." He looked over to 
Divia. "I want a few minutes alone with her," he told her. 
        Divia seemed to hesitate, not particularly thrilled to 
see the scene before her. 
        "Come on, Divia. What's ten minutes?" he snapped. 
        "Ten minutes, Nicholas. And then...we leave." 
        He didn't answer, hugging Natalie to him as the door 
closed, leaving them in darkness. It didn't matter what Divia 
said. He wasn't going anywhere. Not now that he held her in his 
arms.... 
 
        For a long moment he held her tightly, smoothing her 
tousled hair, kissing her on the cheek. Natalie clung to him, 
afraid to let go. This was real, wasn't it? Not another delusion 
of her hunger? 
        "I'm sorry, Nat," he whispered, his voice choked with 
emotion. "If I'd never come into your life, this never would have 
happened." 
        She looked up into his eyes, in wonder at the perfect 
detail she could see even in the dark. He seemed so tired, as if 
all his emotion had been spent.  His gaze locked with hers, as he 
caressed her cheek. 
        "I love you," he said tenderly. 
        "Nick, how can you even stand to look at me...be close to 
me...after seeing *that*?" She could hear the self-hatred in her 
own voice, and she couldn't imagine why he wasn't utterly 
disgusted with what she had become, what she had done.... 
        A moment's pain flashed through his eyes...but it was 
sadness, and not the revulsion she had feared. "I had to let you 
feed from him, Nat...You were too far gone...it was the only 
way...." He took her face in his hands. "Forgive me, Nat.  
Please." 
        "No...you were right," she told him. "I never should have 
trusted him...I was so stupid! This is all my fault..." 
        He silenced her with his kiss. Natalie met his lips 
hungrily, drinking in the new warmth....Before he had seemed so 
cool, but now she could feel the heat emanating from him. And 
what had been new and exciting before now took on increased 
dimensions as he filled her newfound senses with his touch, his 
scent, his taste.... 
        She could feel her eyes burning as he separated from her, 
and she suspected it was more than her tears. 
        "We've got to get you out of here," he said. 
        It had all happened so quickly, but now as her head began 
to clear, she remembered Divia's words. "Nick, what did she 
mean...about "leaving"...?" 
        She could sense his hesitation, and asked again, suddenly 
afraid. "Nick, tell me..." 
        "Nat, we've been looking for you for two days. We 
couldn't find you. And Divia came to us with a deal--she would 
take us to you, and let you go--" 
        "What did you have to give her?" she asked, fearing the 
worst. 
        He let out a breath. "I had to promise that I would leave 
with her." 
        Her eyes opened wide. "What?! Nick, you can't be 
serious!" 
        "It was the only way, Nat. She's powerful. Even LaCroix 
fears her. He knows I expect him to help me fight her; and I 
*will* fight her. But if he doesn't join me--" 
        "He has to. And Divia must know that--" 
        He shook his head. "She knows...how he feels about you. 
She promised to turn you over to him if I would go with her--" 
        Her eyes were ablaze with fury. "You *agreed* to that?! 
To *turn me over* to *him*?!" 
        "I had no choice, Nat!" he cried. "She was starving you! 
I had to find you!  And I would have killed him for what he'd 
done if Janette hadn't stopped me!  But whether I like it or not, 
there are things you have to learn from him to survive--" 
        "I don't want anything from him! *You* can teach me!" 
        "Like I taught Richard?" he countered, his face riddled 
with guilt. And she knew at once, understood, how terrified he 
was that he would fail with her, as he had failed with her 
brother. Immediately he realized what he had said, and regretted 
it. He had no way of knowing what she had seen. "Nat, I'm 
sorry--" 
        "It's okay," she said quietly. 
        "He won't hurt you," he said. "Divia tricked him 
into...what he did. He knows it. That's why he brought you over." 
        "So I'm supposed to stand by..." she said bitterly. 
        "Nat, I won't let her hurt you. No matter what I have to 
do." 
        "And if you do have to go off with her...how long...?" 
        He sighed. "She's a child, looking for a diversion. It 
won't be long before she grows bored--" 
        "And how long is 'not long' for a vampire? A Week? A 
century? I'm still living on mortal time, Nick--" 
        "I don't know," he responded helplessly. 
        "I won't let her take you from me," she told him angrily. 
"If I have to kill her myself." 
        She could see the shadow pass over his face to hear her 
talk this way. But she didn't care. LaCroix, Divia--all of 
them--had destroyed their lives. It had to stop. "I'll do it, 
Nick," she reaffirmed. 
        Now, it was fear that crossed his eyes. "Nat, you're too 
young--too weak.  Please, don't even try. Promise me, you'll let 
me and LaCroix--" 
        "And if he won't?" she challenged, though her voice was 
shaking. 
        He didn't have time to answer. Suddenly the door was 
pulled open, and Divia stood there watching them. "Time's up, 
Nicholas. We *do* have to be going.  It's less than fifteen 
minutes until dawn. I have a car waiting outside--with 
appropriately tinted windows of course." 
        Natalie threw him a glance to see his reaction, wanting 
an answer to her question. But his face had turned to stone. The 
only emotion he conveyed was in the way he squeezed her hand as 
he took it, leading her from the room. 
        LaCroix and Janette were studying them, studying *her*. 
She nodded to Janette, refusing to meet LaCroix's eyes even as 
Nick brought her over to him. 
        "Come on, Nicholas. You've already had your good byes." 
Divia's impatience was evident. 
        His emotionless facade broke as he looked into Natalie's 
eyes. And she knew that for all his protestations that everything 
would be all right, he was afraid. For her. For them. He didn't 
really believe that LaCroix would help him defeat Divia. And he 
knew that if he attempted it alone, he might very well be the one 
destroyed. She felt blood tears rising to her eyes even as he 
took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. He didn't 
tell her it would be all right this time. She knew he couldn't 
bring himself to.  
        He turned to LaCroix as he released her. "You'll take 
care of her...no matter what?" 
        LaCroix nodded emotionlessly. "You have my word." 
        Natalie didn't  like the 'no matter what'. She knew what 
that meant. If he were to not survive attacking Divia.... 
        She watched Nick walk slowly towards the door, where 
Divia waited, a triumphant grin on her face. She took a step 
forward, but LaCroix placed a restraining hand on her arm. She 
spun around to face him for the first time, fury in her eyes. "Do 
something!" she mouthed angrily. 
        He shook his head slowly. "I can not," he said softly. 
        Enraged, she looked back as Divia opened the door, and 
Nick stood in the doorway, looking back at her over Divia's 
shoulder. Divia's smile of satisfaction was infuriating, as she 
said to LaCroix, "Enjoy her, Father. I'm sure you'll agree you 
made a quite favorable trade--" 
        Her words were cut off as suddenly Nick sank his teeth 
into her neck. He meant to drain her! Divia struggled in his 
grasp, but he held her tightly, his eyes red with his rage as he 
drank from her.... 
        Suddenly, Divia threw him off, and he went sprawling. 
Natalie gasped as she heard bones snap. In a moment Divia was on 
top of him, snarling at him wildly. Natalie fought to break free 
of LaCroix's hold on her, but he held her steadily. "Let go!" she 
cried. "Nick!" 
        "Keep her away, LaCroix!" Nick shouted, as he struggled 
to push Divia off of him. 
        "Don't worry, Nicholas!" Divia hissed. "Your little whore 
will be next!" 
        Nick's right hand slammed against her face, and Divia 
fell off him, stunned.  But as he tried to lift himself up, he 
found his left arm useless. It had broken in the fall, and would 
take hours to heal. Instead, he flew up at her, reaching for her 
neck. 
        Divia threw him across the room with an evil laugh, and 
moments later hovered over him once more. Natalie could see that 
he looked dazed, and with alarm realized that blood was pouring 
from the side of his head. Divia dipped her fingers into his 
blood and licked them. "It would have been sweet, my love," she 
said with contempt, as her mouth opened over his neck. 
        With strength she didn't yet know she had, Natalie pulled 
from LaCroix's grasp, propelling herself at them without even 
realizing that she was in flight. Grabbing Divia by the hair, she 
jerked back her head even as her fangs grazed the skin of Nick's 
neck. 
        Natalie didn't see Divia's hand come towards her face. 
She only saw the fury in her eyes as she turned to face her, then 
felt the impact against her temple that sent her tumbling 
backwards. But the stars that clouded her vision didn't matter 
now. All she knew was that she had to help him, even if it meant 
fighting blindly to her own death. 
        "So this is the loyalty you teach your progeny, Father?" 
Divia spit at him. "Then I shall enjoy destroying them all!" 
        Natalie struggled to lift herself up, to ignore the 
throbbing in her head.  She had to get to them...she had to stop 
her. As if in slow motion, she saw Divia lower her head to Nick 
once more, her fangs poised to strike. 
        Suddenly, a black flash. It was LaCroix! With fury he 
pulled Divia away from Nick, throwing her across the room. Divia 
shot back at him, her eyes flaming with rage, her hands around 
his neck. But suddenly Nick was there, pulling her away from 
LaCroix. 
        LaCroix's eyes met Nick's for a brief moment. Then, as 
Nick held her tightly with his good arm, LaCroix sank his teeth 
into her neck. 
        Divia was struggling, but the two men had her tightly in 
their grasp.  Suddenly, a shaft of blinding light filled the 
room. Natalie strained to see, but realized in horror that the 
sunlight had begun to prickle her skin.  Strong hands pulled her 
back into the protection of shade. 
        "Natalie, stay covered...don't look at the light!" 
        Janette. She'd raised the blinds as the sun had risen! 
Natalie gratefully covered her skin beneath the cape Janette had 
thrown over her. But she had to look...she had to see.... 
        Blurred shadows. LaCroix and Nick, holding the 
struggling, weakened form in the direct rays of the sun, 
protected themselves only by the fact that they stood just 
outside its reach. Smoke was rising. Was it from her? Was it from 
them? Was it from *her*? Suddenly, the struggling form went limp, 
and the two men fell into the shadows. 
        Janette hurried to the shades, shutting them tightly. 
Natalie pulled herself up, throwing off the cape as Nick ran to 
her. "Nick?" she asked uncertainly.  Still so hard to see.... 
        "I'm here, Nat, I'm here," he assured her, wrapping her 
in his arms. "It's over," he whispered, kissing her. "It's over." 
 
        "Are your eyes all right?" Nick was asking with concern. 
        She nodded as his features became sharper, and his blue 
eyes smiled at her. "What about you? I heard bones cracking..." 
She ran her hands along his left arm, trying to assess the damage 
she knew would heal itself anyway. "It looks like it's broken in 
two places..." She gasped as she saw his right hand, charred 
black. She held it between her own. "I wish I had something to 
treat this with--" 
        "It'll be fine by tonight," he reassured her. "We're not 
going anywhere 'til nightfall." 
        "What about the car Divia had outside?" 
        He shook his head. "You're too young. You couldn't take 
the sunlight." 
        And it hit her again, as it had when the sunlight had 
prickled her skin. The reality that she was immortal, but not 
invulnerable. Even the things Nick had learned to tolerate in his 
eight hundred years could kill her easily. An involuntary shudder 
ran through her body. Nick seemed to notice, for he slipped his 
arm around her again, kissing her on the cheek.  
        Janette came up to them just then. "I think we could all 
use a rest. There are bedrooms on this floor, and upstairs--all 
with the windows properly insulated." 
        Nick smiled at her gratefully. "Janette, if you hadn't 
pulled open those shades--" 
        "You saved me, too," Natalie added. "Thank you." 
        Janette nodded her acknowledgment. "All our lives will be 
a lot easier now that she's gone." 
        "And she can't come back?" Natalie asked, still not ready 
to relax completely. 
        "No," Nick told her. "She's nothing but ashes." 
        They looked to the spot where Divia had been, where 
LaCroix knelt now, letting a handful of ash slip through his 
fingers. His face was emotionless, but Natalie knew his thoughts 
must be light years, or millennia away....Perhaps he was 
remembering the day Divia had made him...or recalling the little 
child who had been his, the daughter before she had become the 
master. She looked at Nick, and he nodded to her, as they walked 
over to him.  She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked 
up, almost startled to see her there. 
        "Are you all right?" she asked. A needless question 
perhaps. His charred hands would heal, and even the pain of what 
he had had to do might diminish with time. But it was Natalie's 
way of showing that despite her anger for what he had done to 
her, he *had* saved Nick. Saved them all. And for that he 
deserved her thanks. 
        He stood to face her. "We all have to make choices, do we 
not? One child destroyed, to save the others." 
        She could see his grief, and yet beyond that was a calm 
resignation, the inner peace of having made the right decision. 
        "Thank you, LaCroix," Nick said, his words heart-felt. 
        His master shook his head, his expression benevolent. 
"No. It's all right, Nicholas. Because now, we're all free." He 
looked into Natalie's eyes. "I can't eradicate what I did to 
you--but I can give you that." 
        She nodded her understanding, then reached to give him a 
kiss on the cheek.  "Thank you." 
        LaCroix smiled ever so slightly; what he had done to her 
had weighed heavily upon him. He needed her forgiveness. "Well, I 
really must retire," he said finally. He took a bottle that 
Janette handed him, and bid them all good night, heading for the 
bedroom right off the parlor, and closing the door. 
        "This was difficult for him," Janette said with real 
sympathy. "As much as she made eternity difficult for him--he 
loved her." 
        Nick nodded silently, and Natalie knew that he was 
considering his own bond with LaCroix--tormentor, 
teacher...father. A relationship more complex than any human 
could understand. Something she was just beginning to fathom 
herself. 
        They secured the front door, and started upstairs. 
Janette handed them each a bottle of blood before retiring to a 
room on the second floor. Natalie began to look for an empty 
room, but Nick tugged on her hand, a mischievous look on his face 
as he led her up another flight. 
        The top floor of the townhouse was like a small 
apartment, with a master bedroom, bath, and kitchenette. Natalie 
led him into the bathroom, and he let her clean his wounds. But 
impatience overtook him, and he took the cloth from her hand, 
setting it aside. "I've waited too long for this," he said 
softly, as he began to kiss her deeply. 
        Natalie kissed him hungrily, relishing in his warmth, his 
taste, his scent...It was all so different now, so much more 
intense with her heightened senses...just as intense as the 
arousal that he awakened in her, the need for his kiss, his 
touch...his blood.... 
        She pulled away from him in horror, just as her teeth had 
begun to graze his neck. "Oh my God," she whispered in anguish as 
she saw her reflection in the mirror. It wasn't her, but a 
monster, an aberration...and she had almost.... 
        She turned away from him, running into the bedroom, 
grabbing one of the bottles of blood. She ripped the cork out 
with her teeth, and began drinking ravenously, each swallow 
bringing blood tears to her eyes as she realized what she was 
doing. But she had to finish it, had to make it go away....   
       Nick watched her with a pained expression on his face. *He 
must be horrified!* she thought in agony as she drained the last 
drop from the bottle. And suddenly Nick was there, taking the 
bottle gently from her, running his hand through her hair. "It's 
okay, Nat--" 
        "No, it's not okay! It's never going to be okay again!" 
she cried, finding it difficult to speak without cutting her own 
lips. "Make it go away!" she pleaded in a small voice, her eyes 
burning. 
        "I can't," he said softly, as if it broke his heart. 
        She fell into his arms, letting him hold her. Had she 
ever really understood his helplessness, his torment, until now? 
Only the knowledge that he truly knew what she was feeling 
comforted her.   "It's going to be all right, Nat.  You'll learn 
to control it," he said, caressing her cheek. "I know some things 
in your life will have to change--" 
        She pulled away to look into his eyes. "Everything is 
changed," she said bitterly. 
        "Not the way I feel about you," he told her with passion. 
        "How can you say that?" she asked, still feeling the 
burning in her eyes. 
        "Because it's true. And because I'm going to be here to 
help you--" 
        "Why, out of guilt? Because you think this is your 
fault--?" 
        "No. Because I love you." 
        She wanted to believe him. Yet all the doubts that the 
last few weeks and months had brought came rushing back.  "You 
*loved* the person I was--my humanity." 
        "I've learned humanity has little to do with mortality," 
he told her plainly.  "Nat, you're still the same woman I fell in 
love with. Nothing can change that." 
        "But I'm a *vampire* now," she pointed out, though she 
felt her features had returned to normal.  And she had to say it, 
say what had been on her mind for days, though she hated the 
utter jealousy that she betrayed.  "Nick, what makes me any 
different now to you than Janette?" 
        "You're the one I want to be with," he replied 
matter-of-factly. "Whether we're vampires searching for a cure, 
or mortals. Whether I have a lifetime or an eternity, I want to 
spend it with you, Nat." He paused, fear in his eyes, as if a 
sudden thought had struck him.  "Natalie, do you...feel 
differently...about me?" 
        She was stunned by his question.  "No, of course not." 
        He looked down. "I wouldn't blame you if you hated me. 
Ultimately, it is my fault this happened to you." 
        She shook her head, and took a deep breath. "Nick, 
there's something you should know. I chose to come back. I came 
back from the light, even though I knew what LaCroix would do to 
me." She paused as he looked back at her, searching his eyes. 
"Nick, I chose to be this." 
        He hesitated but a second, before saying, "There's 
nothing wrong with wanting to live. With being scared to die. How 
could I condemn you for making the same choice I did?" 
        "Because you hate yourself for making that choice," she 
reminded him. 
        He shrugged it off, as if the circumstances were 
different completely. "Tell me what happened to you there. Why 
did you decide to come back?" 
        She hesitated. She hadn't wanted to ever tell him that 
she had chosen to come back for his sake. She couldn't burden him 
with that. Yet she needed him to know that she hadn't been a 
victim in all this--that she had made the choice. Until she 
admitted that to him, and he forgave her for that, she would 
always feel some wall of secrecy between them. And he would 
always carry the guilt of what had ultimately been her decision. 
        "I saw Richard there," she began, wanting him to know 
this too. "He was at peace, Nick. He'd atoned for what he'd done, 
and he was at rest." She saw the light in his eyes, and knew that 
this knowledge offered him the tiniest shred of hope. "He wanted 
me to join him, and my parents, and my sister, in the light...and 
I wanted to. I really wanted to...." 
        A flash of sadness passed through his face. That she had 
lost her opportunity to go into the light? Or that she had almost 
gone and left him? 
        He took her hand and squeezed it. "I did almost lose you, 
then," he said in  a broken voice, answering her silent question. 
"What made you...?" 
        "He said you would be lost if I didn't come back. He said 
I could save you..." 
        He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. When he looked at 
her again, his expression was one of pain. "My God, Nat--you came 
back to this...for me?" 
        "Nick, I wanted to. He gave me hope that there is a 
cure...a way for us both to get back...." 
        "You wouldn't be like this if it weren't for me!" he 
cried in frustration. 
        "Look, if you want me to believe that you still feel the 
same about me, then you've got to stop feeling guilty. I made the 
choice. It was my decision. I don't need you to feel 
responsible--" she told him flatly, then added, "or stay with me 
because you think you owe me something!" 
        "I'm with you because I love you! I've told you that 
already! But you can't blame me for feeling like this is all my 
fault." 
        "What's done is done, Nick," she said with resignation. 
"I just need to know where we go from here." 
        He sighed, and took her face into his hands. "We go *on*, 
Nat. Together." He kissed her deeply once more, then looked into 
her eyes. "He was right, you know.  I don't know what I would 
have done if you hadn't come back to me." 
        Relief, and love, were all that she saw in him now. No 
disdain for what she had chosen to do. Even his guilt over having 
brought her to this had given way to his contentment at having 
her with him. And as their lips met again, she was unafraid. For 
the first time since they'd admitted their love, there was no 
reason to be afraid. There were no more limits, no more 
boundaries between them. And the realization was intoxicating. 
        This time, she let herself give in completely to the 
passions within her, losing herself in his kiss, the warm touch 
of his hands on her own cool flesh, and the heat of his mouth as 
he tasted her, explored her. How long had she wanted him like 
this? How long had she imagined what it would be like for 
their bodies to meld in this exquisite union? And yet as the 
arousal coursed through her body, and she clung to him in their 
passion, there was something more that she needed...a joining 
even more intimate than this, if that were possible.... 
        She looked up into his red eyes, and saw the reflection 
of her own desire.  "How?" she breathed between the kisses that 
left her breathless. He smiled down at her, his own fangs bared, 
and turned his head slightly, offering her his neck.... 
        It was instinct now. She tasted him with her tongue, 
feeling the pulse of his veins, the blood beneath as inviting as 
the body that now moved in beautiful rhythm with hers. And as she 
pierced his flesh, tasting the warm flow, she shivered with joy. 
This was Nick. This was his very being. And she could feel the 
intimacies of his soul, see the visions of his past...and she 
knew his thoughts, his feelings...his love, as strong as he had 
sworn it to be, as deep as her own. It was real. It was 
undeniable. And she would never again doubt him. She drank until 
she could feel him telling her that it was enough...and his moan 
of pleasure rang in her ears as his life essence filled her. 
        His lips covered hers, even though his own blood still 
lingered. Then, as his mouth moved to her neck, she gasped with 
anticipation, as he licked her, prepared her.... 
        There was no pain as his teeth sank into her flesh...only 
the pinnacle of intense pleasure that had been building from the 
moment he'd begun to make love to her. She cried out softly as he 
drank from her, holding him against her trembling body, running 
her fingers through his hair, holding him against her to let him 
know that he could take from her whatever he needed, whatever he 
wanted.... 
        His lips made their way back to hers, and he pulled away 
finally to look down at her with smiling eyes that were their 
normal crystal blue. "I love you," he whispered, although his 
words could never tell her as fully as his blood had.  
"Natalie...it's never been like that for me...with anyone...." 
        She smiled at him tenderly. She believed him. She had 
felt that too. And she knew it would be pointless to tell him 
that no man had ever loved her like this, could ever compare.... 
        She told him with her kiss. 
        And as she fell asleep in his embrace, she knew that he 
had been right. A lifetime or an eternity. It didn't matter. As 
long as they were together.... 
 
                            Epilogue 
 
        They'd awoken before nightfall, made love again, then 
showered together and dressed. The horror of the last few days 
had ended in an idyllic day that could not last forever. The real 
world awaited. And with it, the challenges of a new life. 
        "It's scary, you know," she told Nick, as he rubbed her 
shoulders. "I mean, how am I supposed to work with all that 
blood, without--" 
        "It'll just take some time," he promised her. "You're 
going to have to take a few days off. Get your strength. Work on 
your control..." 
        She turned around to face him with a seductive smile. "I 
have very little control when you're around," she said, touching 
his neck lightly. 
        "Well, that's too bad," he told her, kissing her 
forehead. "Because I'm not leaving your side until I know you're 
going to be all right."  He wrapped his arms around her waist, 
drawing her closer. "And even after that, you'll be hard pressed 
to get rid of me." 
        He began to kiss her again, until the unwelcome sound of 
his cellular phone ringing interrupted. "Ignore it," he 
whispered. But it was insistent. He sighed and reached over to 
the nightstand. "My fault for turning it on. But by now they 
probably have APBs out on both of us....Knight here. Oh, Grace. 
Hi. No, she's fine. Don't worry. Here she is--" 
        He handed her the phone, mouthing a plea to make it 
quick. She nodded as she said, "Hi, Grace. No, I'm sorry I 
worried you all. It was a family emergency, and I didn't have 
time to call in--" 
        She knew it sounded lame, but she'd have to think up a 
better story later.  She knew she'd be inventing many 
explanations in the days to come. 
        "*I nearly had a heart attack when I saw that blood on 
the floor! Thank God I realized it came from those broken 
vials--*" 
        Natalie's drew in a breath. *Divia's blood*! "Grace, did 
you happen to notice if all those vials were broken? The ones 
marked Divia?" 
        "*It looked like four of them, I think,*" she replied. 
"*I found two others with the same label, but I couldn't figure 
out what case they belonged to--*" 
        "What did you do with the other two?" she asked, trying 
not to scream in impatience. 
        "*I put them in cold storage; they were still okay. The 
blood on the floor was fresh, so I must have come in right after 
you left. I figured you'd take care of them when you came back. 
Do you need anything done with them?*" 
        "No, that's okay," she said, trying to contain her 
excitement. "Just don't let anyone touch them. Look, Grace, I've 
gotta go. I'll be in in a couple of days. Take care." 
        "Well, well--" Nick prodded as she hung up. "Tell me!" 
        "Two of the vials are still there. Nick, LaCroix didn't 
destroy them all. We still have a sample of Divia's blood! Do you 
know what that means?!" 
        He took her into his arms, looking into her eyes with 
more hope than she had ever seen there. "It means your brother 
was right," he told her tenderly, before sweeping her into his 
arms for a long, deep kiss. 
 
        He hadn't been able to sleep. Images of Divia, and her 
agonizing death at his own hands, haunted him. Even Selene had 
come to him, her mortal mother, the woman whose love had produced 
this child. Had she ever really been a child? Had she ever ceased 
to be one? It was all irrelevant now. She was gone. And he had 
done what he'd had to. 
        He'd owed it to them, to his other children. To his 
lovely Janette, always so vulnerable and frightened by Divia's 
power. To Nicholas, whose anger and spirit had made him LaCroix's 
favorite childe. And to Natalie, beautiful Natalie, the innocent 
in all this. He had brutally robbed her of her life, and given 
her a gift she considered condemnation. All for Divia's trickery. 
He'd had to avenge Natalie. Give her that satisfaction. Give her 
her Nicholas.... 
        LaCroix knew they were together. He didn't have to see 
them make love, or hear their soft whispers to know that they had 
finally found the union that had eluded them. And though it was 
excruciating to think of her with him, wanting her himself, he 
smiled to know that at least he had given Natalie the one thing 
she'd wanted. 
        The ability to love Nicholas. 
        And though he could not see them, he could sense them 
both. Sense their joy, their love, their peace. In giving them 
that, perhaps he could find his own. 
        After all, they were his children. 
        The sun set, and he crept slowly downstairs. A note from 
Janette said she had already left for the Raven. One last task 
was yet to be done. He knelt by the spot where Divia had been.... 
        ...and found nothing. 
        He turned at once as he sensed Nicholas and Natalie 
behind him. "Did you...spread her ashes?" he asked, rising. 
        "No," Nick told him. "Could it have been Janette?" 
        LaCroix became thoughtful. "Perhaps," he murmured. 
        "LaCroix, there's something you have to know," Natalie 
began, looking at him with a serious expression. "There are two 
vials of Divia's blood left at my office." She paused, as if 
waiting for a reaction. "You do know I'm going to try to find a 
cure." 
        He nodded. "I would be surprised if you didn't. And 
disappointed if you didn't try." 
        Natalie gave him a smile. Nick's look was more of 
puzzlement. 
        "Some things are inevitable, Nicholas," he explained, 
without wanting to elaborate. For all his protestations, it would 
take Nicholas a while to adjust to his freedom. And he to his. 
        "But until that day, you will need training," he said, 
turning back to Natalie. "There are things you must learn--" 
         "Nick will teach me," she broke in, looking suddenly 
uncomfortable. LaCroix didn't fail to notice the subtle way 
Nicholas' hand had grasped hers, protectively, comfortingly. 
        "Of course," he said, emotionlessly, feeling just as 
awkward as she. Could he really work with her, be so close to 
her, without betraying the intensity of the feelings he still had 
for her? probably not. And yet would staying away from her 
diminish their connection? 
        No. 
        "We are connected, you know," he said gently. "If you are 
in pain...if you need me. I will sense it. And I will be there 
for you." 
        She nodded her understanding. "I know," she replied 
softly. "I know." 
        So much more he wanted to say. So much guilt to assuage, 
so much forgiveness he craved. But enmeshed with all this, was 
the desire to hold her, to kiss her. A desire that would remain 
unfulfilled, were they to live an eternity.  And the part of his 
heart that had opened up once more, risked pain to love and 
trust, now shrank back into the recesses of his soul. 
        And as he bid them good bye, and flew off into the night, 
he could only admonish himself for his own weakness. 
        Never again. 
        And yet somehow, he knew that loving her, that all that 
had happened, had changed him. 
        Forever.