Date:         Thu, 5 Sep 1996 21:51:36 -0400 
From: Cousin Jules  
 
The characters in this story are the creation of Jim Parriott & Co.  No 
infringement of copyright is intended through my borrowing of them. 
 
This story picks up where "Unforeseen Occurrences" left off (well, a couple 
of hours later, at any rate!).  If you need any parts to that story, please 
feel free to e-mail me. 
 
Journey 
Copyright 1996 
 
     Lacroix picked her up in his arms and carried her to her bed.  He laid 
her down gently, and she found his lips close to her own.  He moved closer 
still, and she shut her eyes.  Nat got something of a shock when he planted a 
soft kiss on her forehead, then pulled the covers over her.  She had expected 
something *completely* different.  In fact, after Lacroix disappeared, she 
realised, much to her chagrin, that there was a part of her which was *very* 
annoyed... 
 
     The weeks following this little episode, Nat's life proceeded much as it 
had before: work, home, sleep, and not much else.  One afternoon she arrived 
home to find a flyer from a local night school, and the idea occurred to her 
that perhaps things might liven up a bit if she could find an interesting 
course.  She perused the course list:  Word Processing, Ceramics, 
Wallpapering 101, were among the choices.  Somehow, they all seemed *very* 
dull.  She leaned back against the kitchen chair into which she had dropped, 
and vaguely realised that, after one had experienced vampires, "normal" 
pastimes became *extremely* uninteresting, but what could a girl do?  Call 
Lacroix and ask him out for dinner and a movie?  What exactly did vampires 
*do* in their spare time?  Well, at least those who were firmly ensconced in 
their lifestyle and not inclined to associate with mortals.  You didn't see 
any vampires rollerblading or riding bicycles.  You didn't run into them at 
an Italian cookery class.  You certainly didn't find them enjoying coffee in 
Hazleton Lanes on a cheery Saturday afternoon. 
      Nat decided she was wasting quite a bit of time and energy by dwelling 
on this subject, and both time *and* energy were already in short supply 
after she got home from work, cooked, cleaned up and got ready for bed. 
 Resolved to sleep on it, Natalie tossed the flyer into the nearby rubbish 
bin, opened the freezer, and got ready to make another difficult decision... 
 
                                                      ******* 
 
     She had been expecting another routine day at the job.  Looking both 
ways before she entered the intersection, Nat couldn't have known that 
trouble was, quite literally, right around the corner.  Out of nowhere, her 
car was struck on the passenger's side by another that was being pursued by a 
Metro PD unit.  When things had come to a standstill, one of the uniforms ran 
to the offending vehicle and put the cuffs on the dazed driver while another 
radioed for help and went to check on Nat.  She looked down and found blood 
dripping down the left side of her face and onto her coat.  Still, she didn't 
think she was too badly injured until she tried to stand, at which point her 
world promptly went black. 
 
After an examination in the hospital emergency room, which included an 
x-ray, a check to make sure she had suffered no spinal cord or neck injury, 
and Tetanus booster, Natalie was diagnosed with a mild concussion, along with 
mild facial lacerations and bruised chest muscles, and confined to the 
hospital for 24 hours.  Living alone as she did, the doctors refused to 
release her until they were certain of their diagnosis. 
     Late in the afternoon of that day, Nat drifted to sleep.  When she was 
awakened to hours later by the on duty nurse, she found the concerned faces 
of Tracy and Capt. Reese standing over her. 
     "Just came in to check up on you, Natalie, and to say 'hi'," Reese said. 
 "How you feeling?" 
     "Like someone dropped a brick on my head," she said groggily. 
     "Is there anything we can do?" asked Tracy.  "Your Cap came by a couple 
of hours ago, but you had just drifted off and he didn't want to wake you." 
     "Well, you could look in on Sidney," Nat replied.  "I'm sure he's 
wondering where I've gotten to."  Nat looked around the room with her just 
awakened eyes.  "Looks like my purse is over there on that table by the 
window." 
     "Not a problem," said Tracy, glad she could help.  She went over to the 
purse and quickly found a ring of keys and let Nat show her which one worked 
on the front door. 
     "What happened?" asked Natalie. 
     "Oh, some bozo was being chased for an earlier hit and run.  Looks like 
he put in a full day at his job," Capt. Reese explained to her. 
     "Oh, shoot," Nat began, "Captain, I was going to get that report to you 
on the Hawkins case." 
     "Natalie, I think we can consider you had some *extenuating* 
circumstances," Reese told her.  "Just get better.  When you feel up to it, 
come on back, but I've just spoken to your doctor and he says you need at 
*least* a few days' rest.  You've got a concussion to get over." 
     Nat tried to sit up and was rewarded with what she imagined was the type 
of pain one might feel if an axe had been buried in one's skull, along with a 
wave of nausea. 
     "Ouch!" she said.  "I see what you mean." 
     It was at that point that Tracy and Capt. Reese took their leave and 
headed into work.  Nat, on the other hand, closed her eyes and tried to 
sleep.  It seemed a futile effort, however, as the night nurse woke her every 
two hours to ensure she had not lapsed into unconsciousness, even a coma. 
 Every time she did, Nat remembered where she was and was reminded how 
much she wanted to be gone from there.  In less than two years, she had been in 
the hospital three times, and it was becoming a cause for concern.  She was 
worried, too.  Much as she usually took things in her stride, she wondered 
how these frequent "visits" were going to be construed by her employer and 
fellow workers. 
     "Are you sure I can't go home now?" she asked the nurse. 
     "Not a chance, I'm afraid," the nurse answered.  "But we'll see how you 
are in the morning.  If everything checks out, maybe you can go home." 
     Nat closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep again, a little happier 
knowing her chances of getting out of the hospital had improved, but 
wondering how she had become so good at gaining admittance in the first 
place. 
 
                                                  ******* 
 
      The 5 a.m. nurse quietly took her pulse and other vital statistics. 
 Nat felt much better, but not well enough to return to work anytime soon. 
      "The doctor says you can go home today, if you like," the nurse 
informed her.  "You'll really need someone to look after you for a few days, 
though, sincey you live alone.  Do you have a neighbour or someone who could 
help you out?" 
      She was about to say something when a seductive voice in the doorway 
interrupted her. 
      "I can look after her." 
      The nurse turned to look at the blonde, blue-eyed stranger lounging 
against the door frame. 
      "How did you get in here so early?" the nurse asked, then turned back 
to Nat.  "Do you know this gentleman, Dr. Lambert?" 
      "Uh, well, actually I do.  He's my, uh, cousin." 
      The nurse turned back to Lacroix.  "I'm sorry, sir, but visiting hours 
don't start for some time, and..." 
      "You're very conscientious, Nurse, but Dr. Lambert *will* be leaving 
with me shortly, and you *will* be happy to let her go." 
      "Happy..." the nurse repeated blankly, then quietly left the room. 
      Nat was glad to see Lacroix.  Of course, she told herself, she would be 
glad to see anyone who could get her out of the hospital. 
      "I have to admit that those tricks of yours do come in handy at times. 
 I've been dying to get out of here," Nat said as she sat up slowly, 
wondering at her choice of words.  "Now, do you mind if I get dressed?" 
      "Not at all," Lacroix replied with a small smile. 
      "*Alone*," Nat emphasized, eyes narrowed, at which point Lacroix heaved 
a sigh, stepped back and closed the door. 
      Her wooziness must have returned because, when she awoke, she was no 
longer at the hospital.  Instead, she found herself laying in a large bed 
with sheets of pure silk charmeuse in a burgundy damask design, covered by a 
very thick duvet edged with an intricate cording.  She had no idea where she 
was, but felt safe and warm, as though she could lay here forever.  Closing 
her eyes, she had nearly drifted off to sleep again when she felt something 
moving up the bed.  Too scared to move, she slowly opened her eyes, only to 
be greeted by a large familiar purring machine. 
      "Sidney!" she said, reaching out to pull him closer.  "How did you get 
here?!"  Rather than responding, he found a space between duvet and bedcovers 
and crawled in, curling up in a ball near her feet.  Still purring.  It was 
like having a vibrating hot water bottle.  She laughed to herself and fell 
asleep once more. 
Natalie awoke about three hours later.  She turned her head to look at 
the small carriage clock next to the bed.  It was 6 o'clock, though she 
wasn't sure if that meant morning or evening.  Her question was put to rest 
when a knock came on the bedroom door and Janette entered. 
     "And how are you feeling this evening, Natalie?" she asked, looking 
around the door. 
     "Much better," she replied, peeking over the duvet which seemed to have 
swallowed her up.  "Hungry." 
     Janette disappeared momentarily around the other side of the door and 
brought in a tray which she set down on Nat's lap.  Chinese food.  Nick must 
have told. 
     "Ummm.  I think you have a career as a chef." 
     "I hate to disappoint you," Janette began, "but this little offering 
comes from a local restaurant.  It's been some time since I was concerned 
with honing my culinary skills." 
     "Oh, well," she replied, "wherever it came from, I'm ready for it.  By 
the way, I thought you would have already gone back to Montreal." 
     "I did," said Janette, "but I occasionally return to Toronto to visit 
friends.  I lived here 20 years, you know.  It's hard to say good-bye. 
 Besides, there is Lacroix, and..." 
     "By the way, I haven't heard much from him in the last month or so.  How 
is he?" 
     Janette walked over to the door, then turned back to answer. 
     "He seems fine," she began, looking distant, then returned her gaze to 
Natalie.  "Of course, you can't always tell with him.  I'm sure he has his 
*moments*."  Janette cocked her head slightly and turned to open the door, 
then looked back at Natalie.  "Ah, speak of the devil..." she began to say as 
Lacroix appeared in the doorway. 
     "And he appears," finished Lacroix. 
     "Please excuse me, Natalie," Janette said, wanting to leave Natalie and 
Lacroix alone.   Nat thought.  "I must get 
ready to leave.  It was good to see you again." 
     "You, too, Janette," Nat said with a smile.  "Thank you." 
     "You're welcome," the elegant vampire replied, then was gone. 
     Natalie turned her attention to Lacroix who had now moved to sit on the 
edge of the bed. 
     "Thank you, too, for getting me out of the hospital.  It's not my 
favourite place.  Oh, *and* for Sidney.  How did you manage to get him into 
the carrier?" she asked. 
     "Not to sound too much of a braggart," Lacroix began, "but it was really 
no problem.  Unlike many humans, most animals recognise when it is wise to 
submit." 
      
     "Well, he never submitted before!" Nat said with a grin.  "I'm glad he 
did, though." 
     There was an uncomfortable pause after which Lacroix rose from the bed. 
     "If you will excuse me, Doctor.  My show will not wait.  I will, of 
course, be back to check up on you.  If you'd like," he began as he motioned 
to the nightstand beside her, "the remote is just there.  *Do* help 
yourself." 
     "Thank you," was all she could think of to say as she lifted a mouthful 
of cashew chicken to her mouth.  "Again." 
     Lacroix smiled briefly before he closed the door. 
 
                                                   ******* 
 
     Over the next 24 hours, Natalie felt much improved and ready to return 
to familiar surroundings.  She didn't mind staying at The Raven, but, after 
all, it wasn't home.  The evening following the day she had left the 
hospital, Natalie pulled out a pair of jeans and a blouse from the suitcase 
Lacroix had brought from her home and put on some makeup for the first time 
since the day of the accident.  Lacroix was already broadcasting, and she 
decided to meander down the corridor and have a peek at the club, just to 
have something different to do.  Besides, she'd probably never be back here 
again, and a part of her felt as though it needed to take one last look at 
this dark side of life. 
     She took a seat in the most inconspicuous corner of the bar she could 
find and ordered a Coke.  Her eyes scanned the scene before her, a mixture of 
vampires and mortals in a sea of smoke, music and noise.  She took a sip of 
her drink and set down the glass.  Without warning, the usual goth music 
stopped and a moment of relative calm settled down over The Raven.  That was 
when the next selection began, the type not normally associated with this 
particular club or its like.  It would have been a nice change.  Nice, that 
is, if it hadn't been one of Nick's favourite songs. 
 
Just one year of love 
Is better than a lifetime alone. 
One sentimental moment in your arms 
Is like a shooting star right through my heart. 
 
It's always a rainy day without you. 
I'm a prisoner of love inside you. 
I'm falling apart all around you, and 
All I can do is surrender. 
 
My heart cries out to your heart. 
I'm lonely, but you can't save me. 
My hand reaches out for your hand. 
I'm cold, but you light the fire in me. 
 
My lips search for your lips. 
I'm hungry for your touch. 
There's so much left unspoken, 
And all I can do is surrender to the moment. 
 
     Nat didn't cry, but that didn't stop her from feeling the sadness she 
had, somehow, managed to avoid for the last several weeks, and might have 
felt more intensely if, from out of nowhere, an upturned palm had not 
appeared in front of her.  She looked up to find Lacroix standing beside her. 
     "May I?" he asked. 
     "Um, thanks, but..." 
     "I really *would* suggest it, Doctor, provided you're feeling up to it." 
 There was a warning hint in his voice.  "Not everyone here is a *regular*, 
if you take my meaning, and I'd much rather get the message across in a 
subtle fashion than a show of brute strength." 
     "What message?" Natalie asked, then quickly looked about as she took his 
meaning.  "Oh.  You mean, so I don't turn into someone's dinner?" 
     "Precisely." 
     Natalie took the proffered hand and allowed herself to be led to the 
dance floor.  She very briefly noticed the hungry looks on the faces of many 
of the patrons turn to disappointment just before they turned to look 
anywhere but in her direction.  Lacroix's actions had driven the point home: 
 Don't touch. 
 
No one ever told me that love would hurt so much, 
And pain is so close to pleasure. 
And all I can do is surrender to your love. 
Just surrender, to your love. 
 
     "Whew!" Nat said quietly, trying not to sound nervous.  "I didn't even 
notice." 
     "Exactly.  May I ask what induced you to come down here?" Lacroix asked, 
sounding slightly miffed. 
     "I feel fine.  I've been cooped up for almost three days and I just 
don't take well to lying around doing nothing," she replied, trying to yell 
and whisper at the same time. 
     "You spent half of those three days asleep," Lacroix began, " and if you 
keep up in that tone of voice - which, I assure you, several others can hear 
- I'll be forced to take you back upstairs myself." 
     Nat sighed.  She realised it wouldn't do any good to argue with him and 
allowed herself to be led in the dance, something which, she noticed, she 
didn't particularly mind all that much.  Lacroix was a good dancer - very 
good, in fact. 
 
It's always a rainy day without you. 
I'm a prisoner of love inside you. 
I'm falling apart all around you, 
And all I can do is surrender to your love. 
 
     Before she knew what had happened, the music had ended, and her body 
had 
managed to press itself snugly against his own.  She drew back out of proper 
dance etiquette but, deep down, had to acknowledge that she didn't want to 
let go quite yet.  What she *didn't* want to accept was the attraction she 
increasingly felt for Lacroix or how her body usually reacted when he came 
near to her.  No.  It wouldn't do to dwell on these things, especially since 
he hadn't truly said anything to her to make her think there was some kind of 
feeling on his side.    Lacroix had no intention of pursuing the mortal 
life.  For her part, Natalie wasn't sure that she wanted a vampire's 
existence - now or ever.  Still, there were those *things* that seemed to 
happen to her every time she saw him now, compelling her to draw closer. 
     "I think I'll go back upstairs now," Natalie said.  "I really need to 
pack and get back home." 
     A momentary look of - what?  disappointment? - seemed to cross Lacroix's 
features. 
     "Of course," he replied, "but do me one favour and wait until the sun 
rises before you leave?" 
     "Yeah.  I think I will.  No point in tempting fate twice in one night," 
she said, and began to walk away when Lacroix placed a hand upon her upper 
arm and stopped her in her tracks.  He reached into his coat pocket, drew out 
a set of car keys, and placed them in her hand.  She was about to protest - 
she could get a cab; he'd have to go out of his way to pick it up; etc., etc. 
- when he spoke. 
     "I hardly ever use it," he said, looking away, then continued in that 
low, oh-so-sensuous voice.  "Besides, when I *do* need it, I *will* be by. 
 It won't be any trouble." 
     Natalie didn't move for what seemed like a very long time, wondering if 
there wasn't another meaning behind those words, then nodded her assent and 
walked towards the back of the club.  She didn't dare look back, suspecting 
that a pair of ice blue eyes followed her until she disappeared around a 
corner. 

A few days later, the promise was kept when Lacroix arrived at Nat's 
apartment unannounced.  She was rinsing out a glass in the kitchen sink and, 
startled by his arrival, promptly dropped it.  It shattered, and a shard of 
glass cut into the palm of her left hand, instantly drawing blood.  In 
another instant, Lacroix was at her side.  Nat didn't try to stop him as he 
lifted her hand to his mouth and tended to the wound in the only way a 
vampire could.  Her mouth went dry, her heart raced, and her breathing nearly 
stopped, not from fear, but arousal. 
     Lacroix lowered her hand and held it between both of his now, then spoke 
in a low, hoarse voice. 
     "I've come to ask you a question...Natalie." 
     She stared into the blue eyes now tinged with specks of gold as she 
heard him say her name for the first time.  Nat knew what he wanted to ask 
her. 
     "I...I'm not ready for that," she said, taking her hand away from him 
and turning once more to face the kitchen sink.  "I don't even know that I'd 
ever want it." 
     Lacroix moved behind her and ran his hands across her shoulders.  An 
involuntary - and pleasant - shudder passed through her body. 
     "You did want it - once," he whispered into her ear. 
     "Things were so different then," she said sadly, staring at nothing in 
particular. 
     "Yes," he replied, understanding.  "I know." 
     "Besides," she began, feeling a tinge of anger beginning to rise from 
inside of her, "it nearly killed me, I mean, *really* killed me." 
     Lacroix leaned closer, moved his hands down along her arms, then gave 
them a gentle squeeze. 
     "'Nearly' is the word," he replied. 
      Nat thought guiltily.  Lacroix could have let her die, just 
as Nick had planned to let her die.  If that had happened, they would not 
have even had what brief time together that they did. 
     "I know," Natalie said as she looked down at her hands.  "I just don't 
know what I want right now.  I feel *very* confused.  I'm still trying to 
sort myself out." 
     Lacroix stepped away from her and leaned back against the kitchen 
counter, looking at her back. 
     "Then, please, make a decision soon." 
     "Why?" she asked, still looking down, her back to him. 
     "Because," he started to say, "I am leaving Toronto." 
     She whirled around to face him, annoyed that this idea should actually 
bother her. 
     "Leaving?" 
     "Yes," he answered.  "You and Nicolas may have found a long-term 
vampire/mortal realationship - if you can call it a relationship - 
'satisfying', but I can assure you that I find it intolerable.  Therefore,  I 
am left with only two options:  Bring you across or move on." 
     Nat looked away momentarily, then back at Lacroix. 
     "I can't give you an answer now, Lacroix..." 
     "'Lucien' is my name." 
     "Lucien, then," she complied, feeling strangely shy all of a sudden.  "I 
just don't know what to say.  I wasn't expecting this." 
     "But it must have crossed your mind, surely," he said as he moved to 
close the space between them. 
     "Yes, but,..." was as far as she got before he covered her mouth with 
his own in one rather long, sensuous kiss. 
     "Three days," he told her as he stepped away. 
     Nat grabbed onto the edge of the kitchen sink. 
     "Three days and then, I am gone." 
     Natalie somehow managed not to faint where she stood and was able to 
utter one question. 
     "Where?" 
     Lacroix looked thoughtful for one moment. 
     "Paris, I think.  If one must spend one's existence in the dark, then 
what better place to do that than in the 'City of Lights'?" 
     Nat really didn't know what to say to that, and, a moment later, there 
was no one there to whom she could say anything. 
 
The day after she received the ultimatum from Lacroix, Nat went into 
work as usual, but her mind was anywhere *but* work.  She only had three days 
- well, two now, actually - to make the decision that would affect her future 
forever. 
     Forever with Lacroix?  From everything she had witnessed, Nick had been 
right:  Lacroix had undergone some kind of change, however small, yet it had 
allowed Nick to call Lacroix his closest friend - to his face.  And there was 
no denying that Lacroix had certainly been a friend to her in the recent 
past, on more than one occasion.  And then, of course, there were those 
feelings again... 
     But forever?  There would be no turning back for her once she stepped 
across, that is, unless she wanted to apply her own medicine to herself and 
submit to endless tests and a surfeit of protein shakes.  No.  She wouldn't 
want to do that.  She had seen what a trial it had been for Nick.  Best to 
make the decision now and not look back, whatever direction she went. 
 Perhaps an eternity with Lacroix wouldn't be so bad now... 
     But forever? 
     Her friends kept telling her she would find Mr. Right, though they 
hadn't been thinking of vampires.  Of course, her friends who kept telling 
her this - all married - had a different "world view" of things. 
     It is a common fallacy of the modern world that all single working women 
live in a kind of continuous dating and partying mode.  Most often, this myth 
is perpetuated by the married friends of said single women, most of whom 
haven't been single in at least ten years.  Oh, to be sure, there was the odd 
date here and there, but between work and other responsibilities (otherwise 
known as "real life"), no one had managed to capture her heart, much less 
make her do a doubletake.  No one, that is, until Nicolas Knight had appeared 
in her morgue all those years ago.  And now, after all the waiting and hoping 
and brief happiness, she was alone once more, with no prospects of the mortal 
kind on the horizon.  Still, it didn't mean that things couldn't change 
overnight.  That's what all her friends kept telling her at any rate.  And 
telling her.  And telling her... 
     And there sat Lacroix - sensual, intelligent and possessed of that rare 
quality of charisma.  She knew he cared for her and that, if he brought her 
across, he would never abandon her or leave her unprotected.  There was 
something to be said for those ancient concepts of fealty and loyalty.  Nat 
was well aware of one other thing, also.  She was starving for affection. 
 Never would she have admitted it to anyone, but there were some things that 
pets and friends just couldn't provide, a part of her soul that their love 
and kindness couldn't fill.  Yes.  She was lonely:  desperately lonely, and 
even though modern psychology told her, "You don't need a relationship with a 
man to feel fulfilled" (again, a concept usually uttered by someone who 
hadn't been alone in years, she had found), Nat's primitive instincts told 
her that, in her case at least, such a philosophy would never do.  Looking 
around her, it was quite clear that most everyone agreed with her, though no 
one else would admit to it, either. 
     But could she kiss her mortality good-bye?  She didn't think she could, 
not yet anyway, even if it probably did mean a great time with Lacroix in... 
      
     Her silent debate was interrupted at that juncture by the entrance of 
what appeared to be a morgue lab tech.  He was of medium build, probably in 
his early 30's, with dark hair and dark eyes.   
     "Uh, Dr. Lambert?" he asked. 
     "Hmmmm?" she replied, pretending to look up from some work that had 
been 
ignored for the last 30 minutes. 
     The young technician approached her with clipboard in hand. 
     "I just need your signature on this report you did," he said, placing 
the clipboard in front her. 
     Natalie glanced over the report and, seeing the meaningless script, was 
about to ask the tech what kind of game he was playing when one arm 
tightened around her, pinning her arms to her body, and a hand with a 
chloroform-soaked rag was pressed to her nose and mouth. 
 
     She awoke to find herself on her back and in the dark of what appeared 
to be a small bedroom, hands and feet bound and her head feeling as if it 
were filled with cotton wool.  A small shaft of light pierced the darkness 
under what looked like a door.  She couldn't tell at first because the room 
lacked any windows and it took time for her vision to adjust.  Her mouth was 
dry and she was speculating how to go about finding the local powder room 
when the door opened and the 'lab tech', as she had thought of him, appeared. 
 Gone were the green hospital-type scrubs, replaced by an unremarkable pair 
of jeans and blue pullover sweater.  She noticed the outline of what look 
liked a switchblade knife in a back pocket. 
     "Wakey, wakey," he said with a lopsided grin.  He knelt down to place a 
small plastic pitcher of water next to her and fingered a curl of golden 
brown hair.  Nat noticeably flinched and tried to move away. 
     "Who are you?  And why am I here?" she managed to ask.  Her questions 
were answered with a hard slap across her face and a jab to her throat. 
     "Did I say you could talk?!!!" he yelled.  Standing, he crossed to the 
other side of the room, then turned to her with that sickening smile.  "Still 
- I *may* tell you," he continued as he began pacing. 
     Nat had other questions, but thought better of asking them.  She didn't 
want to take the chance of getting another slap in the face or anything else 
for that matter. 
     "Um, if you need to use the bathroom or anything," he began, suddenly 
turning placid, "it's just outside this door." 
     She nodded and her captor came over to her to unbind her feet. 
     "I'm sorry," he said apologetically as he helped her to stand, "but I'm 
going to have to leave your hands tied. 
      
     Having already deciphered that the man was knitting with only one 
needle, and still feeling woosey, Natalie decided not to attempt an escape 
just yet, and allowed herself to be guided in the proper direction. 
 
     When she had finished with her ablutions, the man returned her to the 
room.  She sat back down on the floor and he bound her feet once more as he 
spoke. 
     "You've been spoiling all my fun, Doctor." 
     "I don't even know who you are." 
     "Yes, you do.  You just don't know that you do." 
     The look of confusion on her face prompted him to elaborate. 
     "I'm the one you've all been looking for.  You've seen my work.  I 
thought the letter 'A' might add an artistic touch.  I'm sure you noticed it. 
 I read about it in the papers." 
     "Oh, my god," Nat said as the bile began to rise in her throat. 
     "I thought it was only fair that you should be next, don't you?" the man 
asked, as if he were talking about nothing more threatening than her place in 
a grocery story queue. 
     "So.  You're going to kill *me*, too?"  It sounded more like a statement 
of fact than a question when she said it. 
     "Oh, yes," he replied, "but I thought we could have some 'fun' ourselves 
first."  He took the switchblade from his pocked and flipped it open, 
gingerly fingering the edge of the blade.  He lightly ran the tip down the 
side of Natalie's face and neck while she prayed someone would find her 
before his 'fun' ended.  She escaped unscathed until he reached her right 
arm, at which point he made a shallow incision all the way from her shoulder 
to her hand that left a fine trail of blood in its wake and caused her to cry 
out in pain. 
     "That should slow you down, just in case you manage to get out of here 
alive," he said.  "But don't plan on it."  He chuckled to himself as he 
neared the door.  It seemed he would leave her alone for awhile, and he 
smiled that unnatural smile again. 
     When he had closed the door, Nat nursed her injured arm as best she 
could in her spartan environment, ripping off the sleeve of her shirt - it 
was ruined anyway - and dampening it with some of the water in the small 
pitcher so that she could clean the wound as much as possible. 
     She spent the next several hours examining her 'cell' as she came to 
think of it.  Windowless, it was lit only by the light which managed to shine 
in from the other side of the solitary door.  She found remnants of what had 
probably belonged to previous victims:  brownish stains on the wall - in all 
likelihood blood; a small gold earring; several strands of blonde hair in a 
red pocket comb; a half-used packet of tissues; and a size seven navy blue 
loafer.  Nat wondered if she would leave anything behind for another poor 
soul to find, or something that would lead the authorities to her would-be 
killer.  There was something else in the room with her:  the smell of death. 
 Not so much a literal smell as a feeling, which permeated every square inch 
of her prison, and a spirit of sadness, hopelessness.  They had found three 
murdered women, but had there been others, she wondered, whom they would 
never find?  Would *she* ever be found? 
     Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and the 'fun' began 
again... 
 
     Natalie had managed to survive 36 hours when help arrived.  She was 
barely conscious when she heard the sound of a door being nearly wrenched off 
its hinges, a cry of fear and a body hitting the wall with a dull thud.  She 
tried to raise herself from where the man had left her but was so weak from 
the emotional and physical pain of the last day and a half, along with lack 
of food, that it seemed impossible.  Impossible, that is, until two strong 
hands helped her to sit upright and held her closely.  Her rescuer's cologne 
was familiar and comforting. 
     "Are you the cavalry?" she asked, trying to find her sense of humour 
even in this dark place. 
     "Apparently so," Lacroix answered. 
     She couldn't imagine what she looked like, but if Lacroix's facial 
expressions were anything to go by, she'd had better days.  Thankfully, the 
man hadn't touched her face, though his knife and hands had managed to leave 
their marks on other parts of her body. 
     In the distance, Nat could hear the wonderful sound of two - or was it 
three - sirens, and she somehow knew they were headed in her direction. 
     "You really should go," she said as Lacroix unfastened her restraints 
and continued to examine her injuries.  "I'll just tell them I passed out 
from the pain, and when I woke up, he was on the floor." 
     "I'd rather  you let me kill him," Lacroix replied as he looked from 
Natalie to the crumpled form. 
     "No!" she said, shaking her head.  "He's mortal.  Let mortals deal with 
him.  Besides, it will create more questions to be answered and *I* won't be 
having anything to do with the case, other than providing my statement.  If 
you kill him, it could cause problems for you and the Community." 
     Nat put her hand to her head and closed her eyes as the fatigue and 
stress of her confinement began to have their full effect upon her.  Lacroix 
placed and arm around her to steady her and instinctively she wrapped her 
arms about him, buried her face in the soft wool of his jacket and began to 
cry, softly at first and then more intensely.  He smoothed her hair with his 
free hand.  He really *did* want to kill the wretch who had done this to her. 
     When she had managed to regain her composure, Nat gratefully accepted 
the handkerchief Lacroix offered her and wiped the tears and grime from her 
face. 
     "I hate to do this," she said as she returned the handkerchief to him, 
"but it will only end up as evidence if you don't take it with you." 
     "I'm not sure I'm going anywhere." 
     "You *have* to go," Natalie said more insistently, "if for no other 
reason than the sun will be up soon." 
     Lacroix looked annoyed, but his common sense told him she was right. 
     "I promise I'll come to see you as soon as they're through with me at 
the precinct," she told him. 
     "Very well.  I shall leave you, cherie" he told her as he planted a kiss 
on top of her head, "but please be sure to keep your promise."  He 
disappeared in a blur, missing the rising sun by mere minutes. 
 
     Two nights later, after she had given her statement and had more time to 
think about the choices before her - now in the wake of her close call with 
death - Nat drove herself to The Raven.  After she parked her car across the 
street from the front door of the club, she sat back and gnawed on her left 
thumbnail.  She had made her choice, and there would be no going back. 
     Nat entered the club knowing it would be her last time.  Mortal or not, 
there were so many memories here - especially of Nick.  It wouldn't be easy 
to say good-bye.  Well, perhaps Janette would return from Montreal and keep 
it running. 
     God, but she hated good-byes. 
     She found Lacroix in his office seated behind the mahogany desk.  He 
rose when she entered the room.  Nat knew she still looked awful, but at 
least the swelling had all but disappeared on her face.  She approached 
Lacroix and stood next to him. 
     "I've been doing a lot of thinking during the past few days," she said 
as she leaned against the desk. 
     "And??" he asked, resuming his seat.  Her tone of voice didn't leave him 
feeling very hopeful. 
     "I can't go with you," she answered.  She didn't miss the look of 
disappointment on his face, though he tried to hide it from her. 
     "I see." 
     "I've got to stay for the trial.  I may be the *only* target of this 
creep who managed to survive him...Um, with your help, of course...And then 
there's my job.  I can't just walk out.  It wouldn't be..." 
     Lacroix stood up abruptly, walked over to the room's private bar and 
poured himself a drink.  He downed it quickly, keeping his back to Natalie. 
     "Well, I have my answer then," he said sounding very tired all of a 
sudden. 
      Natalie thought.  She all but marched over to where he stood and 
took a deep breath. 
     "What I'm *trying* to say, if you'd just let me finish, is that I've 
heard Paris, while it may be lovely in April, is not quite so lovely in 
February, and..." 
     For the second time in a week, Lacroix cut her off with a long, 
passionate kiss, and she promptly went limp in his arms.  When the kiss 
ended, Nat kept her arms wrapped around those wonderful broad shoulders, 
her cheek resting against his chest.  She knew he had 'changed' - she had felt 
the fangs descend as they had kissed - but she stayed just as she was. 
     "Um, I'd like a day or two in Paris as a mortal, too.  If you don't 
mind, that is." 
     "For you, ma petite, I can wait just a little longer," he replied.  "But 
how do I know that you won't change your mind over the next five weeks?"  He 
put her at arms length now and looked into her eyes. 
     She sighed, then took off the gold bracelet that fit around her left 
wrist and handed it to him. 
     "Look at this as a kind of 'promise'.  It belonged to my 
great-grandmother.  I've never let it out of my possession.  When we meet ag 
ain, you can return it to me," she said as she watched him place it in an 
inner pocket of his suit coat. 
     "I look forward to that time," he responded as he drew her close again. 
 This time it was Natalie's turn to initiate their kiss.  When he pressed her 
body closer to his own, she could tell he didn't mind a little initiative. 
     Lacroix finally allowed her to come up for breath, and she had to fight 
nature with every ounce of inner strength she possessed to keep herself from 
taking this little meeting any further.  Nat knew Lacroix would gladly help 
her to give in:  It was written all over his face, and she felt herself blush 
from her head to her toes. 
     Forcing herself to leave The Raven, Natalie returned to her car and sat, 
unmoving, for about ten minutes.  Suddenly, she got a wicked grin on her 
face.  She liked surprises - especially when she was the one doing the 
surprising. 
 
     April had arrived sooner than she had expected, and Natalie now found 
herself sitting on an Air France(tm) flight from Toronto - Sidney in tow - 
and preparing to touch down at Orly.  The sun had already been up for an 
hour, and there hadn't been any way around that little problem.  Most 
international airlines simply didn't set down their trans-Atlantic passengers 
on a runway in the middle of the night.  Thankfully, Lacroix had telephoned 
two days earlier to let her know someone would be at the airport to meet her. 
     The "someone" turned out to be a young Frenchman named Henri.  After 
they retrieved her luggage from the baggage claim area, Henri showed Nat to 
what he jokingly referred to as her 'taxi'.  The taxi, in fact, was a sleek, 
deep green-coloured Jaguar.  Lacroix seemed to have one of these everywhere 
he went. 
      
     Henri drove them to a quiet section of Paris which appeared to be the 
location of some very elegantly appointed townhomes.  After helping Natalie 
out of the car, he escorted her to the large front door of what looked to be 
one of the older homes.  It was three stories high and painted in a muted 
sandstone colour with white trim.  They were met at the door by the 
housekeeper, a Madame Bouvet.  She appeared cheerful and explained, as best 
she could in her broken English, that, as was his custom, the master of the 
house was resting and would be down that evening. 
     As she stepped into the foyer, Nat was able to catch a glimpse of what 
looked like a library through a set of double doors.  It looked, surprisingly 
enough, very light and airy.  An antique-looking round table which stood near 
a front bay window had on it a cut crystal vase filled with a sure sign of 
spring - daffodils.  Various pieces of furniture covered in damask and velvet 
graced different parts of the room, and half the walls appeared to be lined 
with bookcases. 
     The housekeeper showed Natalie to her room which was located on the 
floor above.  The room was decorated in deep rose and soft green florals and 
solids which gave it a very peaceful aura.  The colours coordinated well with 
the bouquets of red and white roses which seemed to fill the room.  Nat was 
left alone to unpack or rest as she saw fit while Madame Bouvet went down to 
the kitchen to fix her a mid-morning repast.  She could see the back garden 
from her bedroom window, but nothing appeared to be blooming.   Odd, she 
thought, being spring, but, then again, this wasn't Canada and she had never 
been to France before, so couldn't claim any kind of French horticultural 
experience. 
     About an hour later, after she had enjoyed the fresh bread and butter 
and coffee which the kindly housekeeper had brought for her, Natalie settled 
in for a brief nap.  Or, at least, she thought it would only be a brief nap. 
 When she awoke, it was nearly 5:30 p.m. 
      
     Natalie was thankful that her room had a private bath and that she 
didn't run the risk of colliding with Lacroix while in her bathrobe in this 
condition.  She was even more thankful when she discovered that, though the 
house was old, the bathroom was about as modern as one could get. 
     About 30 minutes later, with clean hair and clean skin, Natalie pulled 
on some comfortable clothes and went out to find Lacroix.  She didn't have to 
look far as it appeared that he was just exiting his own room.  There was 
nothing casual about his dress, however, and she suspected that that was just 
the way he was.  Dressed in what appeared to be a black Armani suit with 
black shirt, he would have been ready for anything from an art gallery 
exhibit to an evening on the town. 
     He approached her as if she had never left , but when he reached her, his kiss belied the calm exterior. 
     "Did you have a good flight?" he asked, genuinely interested. 
     "Well, uh, yeah.  It was fine."   
     "And do you feel up to a nice dinner?  Perhaps some dancing?" he asked 
in that voice she found hard to refuse. 
     "Yes.  I'd love that.  Shall I change now?" she asked. 
     "It's a bit early yet," he answered.  "Why don't we toddle down to the 
library for a bit and have a drink, hmmm?" 
      
     "Sure!  Sounds great to me." 
     When Lacroix had poured their favourites, Nat sat down on one end of a 
plush, velvet covered sofa.  Lacroix sat right next to her, one arm behind 
her along the back of the sofa, the other holding his drink. 
     "To the future," he said holding his glass out. 
     "To the future," Nat replied as she returned the toast. 
 
 
     "I am so." 
     "No.  You are not." 
     "I am *so*." 
     "*No.* You are *not.*" 
     "Am so!" 
     "Not!!" 
     Natalie leaned back on the sofa and crossed her arms in front of her. 
 Was *she* ever mad. 
     "Why aren't you going to bring me across?" 
     "It's come to my attention that it would be a mistake to do so just 
now," Lacroix said as looked her over and toyed with a few curls of golden 
brown hair. 
     "Wait a minute!  It was *your* idea!" she said, feeling exasperated. 
     "Agreed.  But I mistook your desire to escape ennui and sadness for, 
dare I say it?  Affection?  Love?" 
     "But, Lucien, I *do* like you," Nat said in a very ladylike fashion. 
     "Say, rather, that you love me." 
     She looked directly into his eyes...and found she could not speak those 
three little words. 
     "There," he said as rose and returned to the bar for a refill of his 
glass.  "I was right." 
     "Well?  Is it a requirement that every woman you bring across fall in 
love with you first?" Nat asked in her frustration. 
     "Of course not," he answered directly.  "However, in this instance, I 
find it cannot be otherwise." 
     "And just *what* am I supposed to do now?" she said angrily.  "I've 
given up my job, my home, and the life I had so that I could come here." 
     "My dear Natalie," he said as he came back to stand before her.  "You 
are free to come and go here as you please, to stay as long as you want.  You 
shall want for nothing," he told her and put a kiss on her forehead. 
     "Except what I came here for," she said.  She wasn't about to melt now. 
     "Once before, I brought someone across who was not ready for his 
decision," Lacroix said with a hint of regret as he walked toward the hall 
doors.  "I cannot do that again, if only out of respect for that someone.  I 
think you know who I'm referring to." 
     She whirled about to face him, but he had disappeared. 
 
     After Lacroix had left the room, Natalie sat back down on the sofa and 
finished her drink, wondering what on earth she would do next.  It looked as 
if dinner was off, not because she and Lacroix wouldn't be able to stand each 
other's company just now, but because they'd both suddenly lost any interest 
in enjoying themselves.  It happened every time the subject of Nick came up. 
 Both of them still hurt too much. 
     Natalie went to the kitchen and found the makings of a sandwich, then 
returned to the library and pulled what looked like a very old copy of 
"Paradise Lost" from a bookshelf.  Carefully opening the cover, she saw the 
signature of the owner clearly written in a beautiful hand:  Nicolas de 
Brabant.  Unbidden tears came to her eyes and she blinked them away quickly. 
 Nick had probably spent time in this house, had probably sat where she sat 
right now.  She wondered if Lacroix had returned to Paris to forget Nick or 
to better remember him. 
     Nat read on into the night and early morning until she fell asleep.  She 
awoke to a sun-filled room and found that someone had put a blanket over her 
- probably Lacroix - and left the book on the floor next to her.  Not wanting 
to spend all her free time lounging about when Paris beckoned at the 
doorstep, Nat returned to her room, bathed and changed clothes.  After a cup 
of coffee and a roll, she headed out into what looked like a beautiful day. 
 
                                                     ******* 
 
     Natalie made her way without difficulty to the Louvre.  It would be 
truly scandalous to be so close to so many treasures and not see or 
experience any of them.  Entering through the great pyramid, she paid her 45 
francs  and soon found herself in the hall Napoleon where she rented an 
audioguide.  She had studied French when she was younger, but that 
was...well, far too many years ago than she cared to remember.  It was truly 
difficult to make a choice as to what she should see, but she had to if she 
wanted to get home anytime this century.  Oriental Antiquities?  Egyptian? 
 Greek?  Roman?  Paintings?  Sculpture?  Drawings?  She finally decided to 
visit the Italian paintings in the Denon Wing and the Salon Carre, Salle des 
Etats and Grande Galerie, easily getting lost in the beautiful works of 
Michelangelo, Rafael, Titian and others.  After a few hours of standing, Nat 
returned to the first floor of the wing to visit the Cafe Mollien and rest 
her weary feet.  There was only so much art one could take in at a time, and 
she had reached her limit. 
     As she sat in the cafe with her tea and cake, she thought about what 
Lacroix had said to her.  She had been so sure that she had fallen in love 
with him.  So why couldn't she say it?  In the end, she realised, it wasn't 
that she hadn't come to love Lacroix as much as that she hadn't stopped 
loving Nick.  But Nick wasn't here now and Lacroix was, and he had been there 
for her ever since Nick's mysterious disappearance.  But for Lacroix, she 
would have died, either at the loft that terrible night, in her apartment by 
her own doing, or at the hands of one very sick individual.  She realised, 
too, that she couldn't bring Nick back from wherever he had gone.  She 
*could* make a life with Lacroix and be happy here in Paris.  If she could 
just keep Nick from coming between them... 
     Sunset approached and Nat wanted only to get back to the townhome in 
time to talk things over with Lacroix.  She arrived there to find the front 
door ajar and the house quiet.  She was sure she had closed the door tightly 
when she had left that morning and remembered the click of the lock. 
 Entering the main hall, all was silence.  In fact, it was too quiet for her 
comfort.  Having gotten caught in Paris rush hour traffic, it was well past 
sunset.  Even if Lacroix had left, he wouldn't have left the house in 
darkness as it was now.  Thinking she heard a noise up above her, she 
ascended the stairway as quietly as possible.  Perhaps Lacroix had simply 
gotten caught up in something and hadn't come downstairs yet. 
     Nat knocked when she reached his room, but didn't get a response.  She 
tried to open the door, only to find a body of a dark-haired stranger 
blocking her way.  She heard the noise again and realised it was a gasp. 
 Lacroix? 
     She shoved at the door with all her strength and managed to move the 
body enough to see that the man was dead.  Nat also saw a hand laying on the 
floor at the edge of the bed, a hand that looked very, very old.  She didn't 
really want to believe what she thought was happening, but the sight of 
Lacroix brought home the truth of the situation.  The "something" he had 
gotten caught up with looked to be nothing less than a hunter who hadn't 
forgotten to bring along his trusty stake. 
     "Oh my god," she said as she knelt by Lacroix.  He was still alive by 
vampire standards, but clearly much in need of her help if he was to survive. 
 Two thousand years of time was quickly etching itself on his body. 
     "You have to pull it out," he said with difficulty. 
     "I don't know if I can," Nat said, feeling like a weakling.  It had gone 
in deep and her upper body strength was less than it could have been. 
     "Then you had better leave now.  This *won't* be pretty." 
     Lacroix.  Even while dying he had the gift of understatement.  Nat 
suddenly found her strength in a burst of anger. 
     "Oh, no!  You're not going to leave me, too!" she said as she stood and 
bent over him and grasped the wooden shaft firmly in both hands. 
     "Natalie..." 
     "Don't you *dare* die on me, Lacroix!" she said angrily, her vision 
becoming blurred.  "I already lost Nick!  I'm not going to lose you, *too*!" 
     "Oh.  Does this mean you really *do* love me?" 
     "Yes!!!" she yelled.  "Any other questions??!" 
     "I was only going to suggest that...it would be wise to have some 
'nourishment', shall we say, on hand.  I wouldn't want you to save me only to 
become my breakfast." 
     "You'd actually do that to me????" she asked, incredulous. 
     "My dear, Natalie, I assure you it would be quite beyond my control to 
do otherwise." 
     Making a sound of frustration, Nat ran downstairs and procured several 
green bottles from the refrigerator.  She returned to Lacroix's room to find 
him fading fast.  She wanted to ask what had happened, but he could be really 
and truly dead before he told her the story. 
     Natalie bent over once more and pulled with all her might.  The scream 
was terrible as the stake came out in her hands and her momentum carried her 
back to strike a wall.  Within minutes, Lacroix's eyes had turned a golden 
green and focused on her.  She only just managed to uncork a bottle and keep 
him from making a beeline for her carotid artery.  When he had finished the 
third bottle, he fell wearily onto his bed. 
     "Nothing like a little change of routine," he said drily. 
     Nat kept her distance, still leaning against the wall, and asked, "What 
happened?" 
     "Oh, just another 'concerned citizen' determined to free the world of 
our presence," he said as he motioned to the body. 
     Nat summoned the courage to walk over to the body and examine it.  The 
man's neck was broken.  It worried her and made her feel glad all at the same 
time.  Worried because hunters would become a fact of life she would have to 
deal with.  Glad because Lacroix still lived. 
     She didn't hear or see him come up behind her.  He wrapped his arms 
around her waist and lifted her to her feet. 
     Nat blushed.  In a moment of time, she realised she couldn't deal with 
another death.  Not his death.  Expecting him to suggest a cozy evening, he 
merely held her tightly for a moment, then went to clean up and find some 
undamaged clothing.  She was somewhat disappointed, but her feelings 
evaporated as she looked at the man at her feet.  As callous as it sounded, 
she decided to leave the body for Lacroix to deal with.   Nat told herself.  It was, after all, an age old 
battle.  Beginning to shake, she barely made it back to her room before she 
was reacquainted with her afternoon tea. 
 
     After she had recovered from being ill, Nat sat in the large comfortable 
chair that looked out onto the garden she thought had been so barren the 
first time she had seen it.  It was alive now with night-blooming plants and 
flowers, a veritable array of brilliant colours.  She looked at the flowers 
and then up at the moon and stars.  Nature's beauty thrived even in the 
nighttime.  Was this world any less beautiful than the one that existed in 
the sunlight?  Was it inferior or sinister?  No.  Not really.  Only 
different. 
     Lacroix did not seek her out that night, and she did not go looking for 
him.  He was, no doubt, taking care of the disposal of the hunter's body, and 
Natalie needed some time alone to deal with her most recent traumatic 
experience.  Used to dealing with death as she was, it had never helped her 
to cope when it showed up on her own doorstep.  What disturbed her more on 
this occasion was the gladness she felt that Lacroix had killed the unknown 
man.  Despite that fact that it had been done in self-protection, someone had 
died, and it made her feel guilty that she would be helping to keep it a 
secret, much as it had made her feel guilty to hide vampire activities while 
acting as a Provincial coroner. 
     Nat slept for most of the next day curled up in the chair, rising in the 
late afternoon with a stiff back and to find Sidney in her lap.  She still 
hadn't seen Lacroix, but felt it was time to take action. 
     An hour and a half later, she descended the stairs to find Lacroix in 
the library.  He didn't turn around at first - though he must have heard her 
heartbeat, surely - but had his attention focused on an old photograph of 
Nick that stood on the mantelpiece.  He finally turned to look at her and did 
not seem displeased by her appearance.  She had pinned up her hair and wore a 
strapless, body-hugging red dress of mid-calf length, with a small jacket of 
the same material trimmed in red satin.  For her part, Nat found that a 
Lucian Lacroix attired in evening dress was something her eyes could not 
ignore. 
     He walked over to her and looked into her eyes. 
     "I think it's time for that night on the town you promised me, don't 
you?" she asked. 
     Lacroix merely smiled at her and offered her his arm. 
 
     A short time  later, Lacroix pulled the Jaguar in front of 84 rue de 
Varenne, otherwise known as L'Arpege(tm).  She and Lacroix were escorted to a 
table and offered the menu.  Lacroix, of course, waved it away, but Nat 
happily took one.  Unfortunately, it was brought home to her again that her 
French was not what it could have been.  The menu and Nat's studious gaze 
allowed only the top of her head to show, but Lacroix had a fair idea of what 
was going on.  He reached across the table and pulled down the menu to reveal 
Natalie biting her lip and frowning. 
     "Would you prefer that I order for you?" he asked her in an indulgent 
tone of voice. 
     "That probably would be a *good* idea," she said and attempted to give 
the menu to him.  He merely took it and handed it over to the waiter who had 
reappeared at their table. 
     "The lady will have the carpaccio de St. Jacques aux truffles, faisan au 
genievre and, I think, the millefeuille vanille au whiskey.  You can also 
bring us a bottle of the J.M. Boillot Beaune Montrevenots, 1988, and two 
glasses," he said with ease.  When the waiter had left, Lacroix turned his 
attention to Nat who now looked quite lost. 
     "Except for the dessert, I don't know what you just ordered, but it 
sounds fabulous." 
     The food soon arrived:  coins of raw scallops interleaved with coins of 
black truffles, wild pheasant, roasted and scented with juniper and served 
with sauteed vegetables, and a marvelous millefeuille which, along with the 
Beaune, left her feeling just a tad on the tipsy side.  She finished with 
coffee, tuiles, macaroons and chocolates. 
     "Oh, my!" she said, not sure she would be able to stand.  "What 
wonderful food!  Not bad for my last meal." 
     "Is it your last?" Lacroix asked sound as if he didn't quite believe 
her. 
     "Well...It *could* be," she said enigmatically and looked into those ice 
blue eyes across the table from her.  Lacroix looked back without saying 
anything, appearing to drink in her face and form.  It made her feel hungry 
again, but not for food.  She wondered if Lacroix was feeling the same way. 
 And would he - could he - really love her?  Care for her?  Perhaps she was 
too blind to know the truth, but she thought now that he could and did. 
     Lacroix paid for their meal and escorted Natalie out of the restaurant 
and up the street to a small, smoke-filled, but still quite posh, nightclub. 
 After being shown to a small table, Nat tossed her shawl over a chair back. 
 Lacroix didn't sit down, but took her hand and gestured towards the dance 
floor, as if to ask her if she'd care to join him.  This time, she didn't 
have to have any ulterior motive. 
     Natalie didn't recognise most of the music she heard, until, that is, 
someone requested a very old favourite of hers - 'La Vie en Rose'.  She and 
Lacroix had been sitting down and discussing some of the art she had seen at 
the Louvre the day before when the band began to play, and Nat decided she 
wanted to dance at least once more that night. 
     She felt so at home in Lacroix's embrace.  She had never expected to 
feel that way again, but, somehow, this was right for her.  The music played 
on and she contentedly rested one side of her face against Lacroix's 
shoulder.  Would it be so wrong to give in?  To let someone else be strong 
for a change?  No, and it would be so easy to do...and not unpleasant. 
     Nat moved her face so that she was able to whisper in his ear what her 
body and mind told her she must say now. 
     "I want you, Lucien." 
 
     Lacroix put enough distance between them so that he could see whether 
she really meant what she had said.  Without speaking and, somehow, without 
losing contact with her, he guided her from the dance floor, picked up the 
shawl she had so carelessly tossed over the chair, and placed it protectively 
around her shoulders. 
     Rather than drive back to the house, Lacroix decided that they would 
walk.  Someone could always come retrieve the car, he told her.  He took Nat 
by the hand as they stepped out of the club, and they soon found themselves 
wandering along and across the Seine, then through the Jardin de Tuileries. 
 Neither of them spoke.  It was as if they had found the niche where two 
souls needed no more words between them and were not discomfited by that 
fact. 
     They finally arrived at the Lacroix's house, and as she stepped into the 
entry hall, Nat noticed from the old clock that stood there that it was 
nearly midnight.  Lacroix ascended the stairway still holding Nat by the hand 
as she followed close behind him.  When they had reached the landing, Lacroix 
placed an arm about her waist and began walking them towards his bedroom. 
 The silence of the past 30 minutes was broken when Natalie stopped in her 
tracks. 
     "I need to get something first," she said with an inscrutable look on 
her face. 
     "Very well, ma petite," he said as he backed away and continued on, "but 
don't be *too* long." 
     Nat entered her room and opened the wardrobe.  She sorted through her 
things until she found it.  It didn't take her long.  It would have been very 
hard to miss the flame yellow of the fine gauze-type material.  She only 
hoped that her decision to bring it turned out to be the right thing to do. 
     Within a few minutes, she had donned the floor-length gown which was 
held up only by the clasps on each shoulder and a loosely-tied sash.  Pulling 
the pins from her hair, she let it fall about her face and shoulders, then 
covered her head with a long veil of the same type and colour of fabric.  Nat 
took one final look at herself in the mirror and inhaled deeply.  It was now 
or never, she told herself. 
     Natalie crossed the hall to stand before Lacroix's bedroom door, taking 
one final breath and hoping she hadn't made a very big mistake in her choice 
of wardrobe.  She knocked softly, then opened the door without waiting for 
permission. 
     Lacroix stood near a rosewood bureau to her right.  He turned slowly to 
look at her and she noted that he wore a long, black silk dressing gown which 
was loosely tied.  *Very* loosely tied.  She also noted, with some 
satisfaction, the look on his face.  So.  She had managed to surprise him 
again. 
     To the casual observer, there was nothing that would have caught their 
attention, apart from the veil and what might be considered an odd colour for 
what appeared to be a negligee.  To Lacroix, however - and anyone who had 
knowledge of ancient Roman society - her attire would have spoken volumes. 
 It was the type of dress which would have been worn by a Roman bride at her 
wedding.  Nat told herself she always knew that Classics course in college 
would come in handy one day.  But, she wondered, was Lacroix surprised in a 
'good way' or was he disappointed that she had expected him to enter into a 
committed relationship with her?  Whatever the case, he appeared to be at a 
loss for words. 
     "If you're having second thoughts or if I misread your intentions," Nat 
began to say, "then now is the time, as they say, 'to speak, or forever hold 
your peace.'" 
     A smile played across Lacroix's features as he briefly looked away, then 
back at Natalie. 
     "You'll have to forgive me, Natalie," he said as he leaned against the 
bureau, "but the vision before me is one I had never expected to see - or 
experience.  I thought I had left it behind with other mortal 'conventions' 
denied my kind for the sake of anonymity, but..." 
     "But??" she asked, waiting to be disappointed. 
     "I am glad you view our relationship as I do." 
     Nat heaved a silent sigh of relief as she watched Lacroix reach into a 
pocket of his dressing gown and pull out a small gold ring.  It was 
beautiful, but unremarkable, save that it had a small gold key which gave the 
illusion of being attached to the band by an even smaller gold chain.  He 
walked over to where she stood and placed it on the ring finger of her right 
hand.  It was a perfect fit.  Nat didn't know what to say. 
     "Oh, my...It's quite beautiful, but so unusual." 
     "I see your knowledge of antiquity does not stretch quite this far," he 
answered, amused.  "You really don't know the significance of this ring?" 
     "No.  I'm afraid I don't."   
     "In 'my day', not to sound *too* elderly, when a Roman man gave this to 
his lady, it was not only a sign of a legal contract.  It also signified to 
all onlookers that the wearer had rights to half of all the man's property 
and possessions."  It was Nat's turn to lose her powers of speech, and 
Lacroix clearly enjoyed it.  "You know how 'backward' we all were then." 
      thought Nat, knowing from Nick and her own 
experience that whatever portion of Lacroix's wealth she had seen was only a 
glimpse of his real worth.  She started to protest, but he placed two fingers 
on her lips to stop her. 
    "I think we've said all that needs saying," he told her.  "Are you *sure* 
you want the gift of immortality?" 
     Nat didn't say anything, only nodded to show her assent. 
     "And what about Lucien Lacroix?" he asked.  Nat found the words came 
easily to her. 
     "I want him, too.  Now...and always." 
 
     Lacroix removed the veil and let it fall to the floor at their feet. 
 They met halfway in a kiss, tentative and almost shy at first, as if neither 
had ever done this before, but the kiss lingered and deepened.  Surprisingly, 
however, the vampire did not immediately appear.  It was as if Lacroix were 
'playing it safe.'  Or did he just have more control than those vampires 
younger than him?  Nat finally had the nerve to draw back just a little and 
look at him. 
     "I thought you wanted 'romance,'" Lacroix said, amused.  "Some kind of 
appetizer." 
     Natalie gave him a loving but annoyed look. 
     "I've already *had* the appetizer," she said.  "In fact, I've had it for 
about four months now!"  She lowered her voice and drew close again, 
fingering the collar of black silk beneath her hands.  "*I'm* ready to dive 
into the main course." 
     With that, Lacroix wasted no time in responding with a hungry kiss, and 
it was only moments before the transformation began.  From experience, Nat 
knew that vampire 'lovemaking' would precede anything she knew or 
understood, and Lacroix played true to form; however, from that experience, a 
fear unbidden arose in her.  She thought she hid it well, but Lacroix must have 
sensed something in her because, while he obviously desired her blood, his 
hold on her remained gentle and easy, and so languid was his approach that it 
almost surprised her when she felt the pleasure and the pain of the bite. 
 Unlike her experience with Nick, she was not assailed by memories of his 
kills.  Instead, she felt an indescribable and luscious warmth spread through 
her; smelled wine and citrus and roses; and felt a peace such as she might 
feel when sitting inside a quiet house and listening to the fall of a gentle 
rain beyond its walls.  Amid all this pleasantness, however, Natalie sensed a 
deep, deep sorrow in Lacroix.  It was something of a shock:  Going by his 
exterior, one would have never known it was there.  It saddened her, but made 
her want to be all the more closer to him. 
    Gradually, though, her desires and thoughts faded away as her heart 
slowed and consciousness finally deserted her. 

 Natalie awoke what seemed like only moments later on her back in 
Lacroix's bed, aware now of that hunger to which Nick had alluded so many 
times.  It truly was beyond anything she had experienced, consuming her every 
thought.  In fact, it was her *only* thought as she felt her own 
transformation begin.  She did not have to go far to find food, however, as 
Lacroix sat next to her on the edge of the bed.  Without much thought she 
instinctively dove for his neck, and he did not deny his ravenous fledgling. 
 He did have to push her away eventually, however, and offer her something of 
the bottled variety instead.  It was only when she sat back against the 
pillows with her crystal goblet that she realised they both had been divested 
of their clothing.  Feeling still somewhat shy over their new intimacy, Nat 
was thankful she lay under the bed covers.  Lacroix on the other hand...Well, 
one thing he would *never* be was self-conscious. 
     Nat felt only a little weak and most definitely *not* tired or ready for 
sleep as Lacroix ran one hand through her hair in  an attempt to straighten 
it on the pillow.  Almost before she realised it, she raised herself to a 
sitting position, causing the bed covers to fall away this time, taking with 
them any modesty she might have been attempting to retain.   
 Her care vanished, and she wrapped her arms behind Lacroix's neck and drew 
him to her. 
     "You know..." she started to say, or tried to say between kisses. 
     "Yes????" Lacroix asked as he moved to nuzzle her neck, ear and 
shoulders. 
     "If we're staying in Paris..." 
     "Hmmmm???" 
     "I could really use some French lessons." 
     Lacroix pulled away and gave her a serious look. 
     "I agree," he said, slowly drawing back the remainder of the bedclothes 
which separated them.  "And I think..." he said as he began to kiss and 
caress her flesh once more, "...seeing as how you *are* a doctor..." 
     "Yes????"  Now it was Natalie's turn to ask the questions. 
     "...we should start with..." 
     "Hmmmm???" 
     "...parts of the body." 
 
     Natalie awoke to find her back pressed against Lacroix's chest, his arms 
wrapped around her.  She felt she could remain there quite happily for a long 
time to come.  Turning around to face him, Nat put her right arm around his 
back and snuggled close. 
     "So, Dr. Lambert," he began in a mock formal tone. 
     "Yes?" she said without opening her eyes. 
     "What is your scientific opinion of life as a vampire?" 
     "Well," she began to answer after kissing Lacroix full on the lips, then 
propped herself up by her left elbow and stroked her chin with her right 
hand, "speaking *only* as a scientist..." 
     "Yes?" 
     "I'd have to say that it's just too early to tell yet.  As you know, 
*any* scientific endeavour culminates only after *years* of hard, analytical 
study.  Therefore," she said getting a wicked gleam in her eye, "I'd say it's 
time for some more *experiments*," and promptly threw the covers over their 
heads. 
 
                                                ******* 
 
     Over the next six weeks, Natalie found she truly was happier than she 
had been in quite a long time.  Something which contributed to this happiness 
was the absence of the guilt she had felt at putting her life with Nick 
behind her.  She was becoming better able to accept what had happened, 
though, as she and Lacroix had acknowledged earlier in their relationship, 
the loss would never quite be healed.  What was strange, however, was that 
Lacroix seemingly had a more difficult time doing so.  Nat would find him 
"doing a Nick on her" as she liked to joke, getting a far away look in his 
eyes, almost oblivious to what might be going on around him.  These moments 
would eventually pass, though, and he would return to his normal self.  Not 
that he had become the Lacroix of old - far from it - but he could often 
bring back that mask of the uncaring, unfeeling, superior master vampire, at 
least outside of his private moments with Natalie, who saw it as Lacroix's 
way of protecting them both in a physical sense *and* protecting himself from 
becoming too close to too many people, vampires or otherwise.  She wondered 
if his attempts to protect his own emotions were a habit he had acquired 
sometime during the past 2,000 years or if he had carried over this facade 
from his days as a mortal. 
     Besides seeing the sights of Paris and becoming accustomed to her new 
physiology, Natalie was also treated to a tour of Rome.  She had not been 
there before but, with Lacroix as her guide, had been made to feel as if she 
had actually lived there in the days of the Empire, when he had been among 
its greatest generals.  Nat even managed to convince Lacroix to take her to 
Pompeii, something he had not done since fleeing it on that day of ash and 
fire which had consumed it and brought him face to face with his real 
destiny.  He somehow found what was left of his home and some of his former 
haunts.  It was an eerie experience, even for those who should have been 
accustomed to what was out of the ordinary, to see the lava forms of those 
who had not been as fortunate as him.  Nat wondered if, one day, she might 
return to Toronto and find it as desolate and heartrending.  She hoped not. 
     Upon their return to Paris, Lacroix resumed his life in radio, only here 
he was known on air as "Betenoire" and not the Nightcrawler.  Natalie thought 
it an appropriate pseudonym.  She did not find anything with which to occupy 
her time quite so quickly, though she had investigated the possibility of 
entering the forensics field on this side of the Atlantic.  Her new situation 
made it unnecessary for her to pursue any kind of employment, but she knew 
she had to do something worthwhile, especially since she now had an eternity 
to look forward to and an eternity of non-productivity meant an eternity of 
stagnation.  That was something no person - vampire or human - could live 
with for long.  At least now, however, she had all the time in the world to 
decide what she would do, and several lifetimes to pursue several goals if 
she so chose.  Time was no longer an issue.  The opportunities were endless. 
     When Lacroix wasn't working, the two of them would often sit in the 
library, listening to music or reading.  Frequently, Lacroix would pull a 
book off the shelf and Nat would curl up next to him while he read to her - 
history, poetry, philosophy - his beautiful voice often lulling her to sleep. 
 Sometimes, they would simply sit beside one another on the sofa and watch 
the local news or a movie, much as she and Nick had done.  One early morning, 
Nat found an old Dracula movie in the satellite TV guide.  Even after it was 
over and they were turning in for the day, she and Lacroix couldn't stop 
laughing. 
     The good times seemed to end, however, when Lacroix came home one 
morning and shut himself up in the library.  Nat had been in the kitchen when 
she heard him enter and went to greet him.  He stood with his back to the 
room, both hands resting on the gleaming mantel of the fireplace, not saying 
a word.  Something emanated from him, though - a feeling that told her to 
tread lightly here.  She approached him and tried to see what was the matter. 
     "Lucien?" she asked quietly.  He did not answer but stared into the 
fire.  "Lucien?" she said with more force this time. 
     He turned to look at her.  He looked as if he had seen a ghost. 
     "We're leaving Paris," he said flatly. 
     "What???" Natalie asked, not believing her ears. 
     "One week," he told her. 
     "Why???"  Nat was not about to dismissed as though she were a child. 
 Again, she didn't get an answer.  She knew what she had to say.  "I'm not 
going...Not until you give me a good reason."  He turned on her with an 
intimidating stare and tone of voice. 
     "I *made* you!  *That* is reason enough."  It was said in anger, but his 
eyes had not changed colour.  Nat backed away, not wanting to believe she had 
heard those words.  She had been so happy.  Had her judgment been that 
flawed? 
     Without saying a word, and knowing how pointless it would be to argue 
with him, Nat left the room, but only to retire for the day.  She was going 
to find out why they had to leave Paris so abruptly, even if it killed her. 
 
     Four days had passed, and Nat and Lacroix had managed to avoid one 
another at every possible moment - or, rather, it seemed Lacroix had chosen 
to avoid her, sleeping elsewhere in the house and managing to rise and depart 
before her fledgling body would allow her to wake, thus escaping her nagging 
question, "Why?"  As much as they had been through in the previous weeks and 
months, Nat was surprised at the distance he had put between them, and, after 
the scene in the library, she had expected him to be anything but "laid 
back."  Indeed, she had wondered if the Lacroix of Nick's past had now risen 
up to control her. 
    Nat climbed into bed for the day, though she didn't think she would get 
to sleep for some time, in spite of her body's protestations to the contrary. 
 The strain of it was starting to get to her, and it brought home to her how 
very stubborn both of them were.  Neither, it seemed, was going to budge, and 
that wouldn't solve anything.  It would soon be five days since they had 
talked or spent time together; five days since they had shared the same bed. 
 Natalie wasn't about to back down from her stance, but neither did she want 
to go on living like this.  Just then, however, the sound of approaching 
steps caused her to hold her thoughts and her breath.  They stopped outside 
her door.  Nat waited and listened, but did not move.  The footsteps 
proceeded up the stairway to the rooms on the next floor, taking with them 
her hope of some kind of reconciliation this day. 
 
                                                      ******* 
 
     Amazingly, when Nat awoke the following evening, she found that Lacroix 
had not yet left house.  She dressed quickly.  She didn't want to lose him 
tonight. 
     Nat waited only a short while before she heard the front door open and 
close, and, looking from her open window, saw Lacroix ascend into the sky. 
 She followed as close as she dared, not knowing if he realised she was 
there, thinking that he must.  Was this his way of telling her the truth or 
was he so distracted by his thoughts that he was merely being careless? 
     They flew over the rooftops of Paris through the clear sky of a Paris 
evening, until they came to a poorer section of the city.  Lacroix landed, 
and Natalie, unhappy that she would actually think it, wondered what on earth 
could bring him to this neighbourhood.  Well kept though it was, it was not 
the sort of place she could ever picture him.  She followed him - at a great 
distance - down two streets and three dark alleys.  Finally, he stopped and 
leaned against a wall at the edge of one alleyway, staring at one of the many 
row houses on the other side of the street.  Nat approached as closely as she 
dared and followed his gaze.  Nothing happened for at least ten minutes, and 
she was beginning to lose what shred of patience she had retained, when the 
door opened, and someone stepped out onto the steps of the house. 
     Nick. 
 
     Before she knew it, she had tried to run to him, but Lacroix stopped her 
progress. 
    "You bastard!" she yelled as loud as she could without drawing attention 
to them.  "You probably knew about this all the time!!  Let me *go*!!!!!!" 
     Nat struggle in vain to free herself of Lacroix's iron grip. 
    "Ni--" she began to call out before Lacroix put his other hand over her 
mouth and drew her back into the shadows. 
     "It's no use," he told her flatly. 
     "What do you mean??!  Let me go!!" she replied, still trying to escape 
him. 
     "He won't recognise you." 
     Natalie stopped struggling momentarily. 
     "I don't believe you," she said with all the vehemence she could muster. 
     "He didn't recognise me," Lacroix replied as he grasped her by the 
shoulders and looked hard into her eyes.  "He won't recognise *you* either." 
     "Maybe that's just what you'd like me to believe," Nat began, "but just 
because..." 
     Her words caught in her throat when she glimpsed a woman stepping out 
from behind the same door, a woman holding a beautiful baby in her arms. 
 Nick kissed the baby and gave it a gentle caress on the head, then tenderly 
kissed the woman, telling her he would see her in just a few hours.  Nat 
stopped pushing against Lacroix and froze.  Tears welled up in her eyes.  She 
wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.  A moment later, 
the dam burst, and Natalie nearly fell to the ground in grief.  Lacroix 
caught her, however, and allowed her to cry herself out in his arms.  By the 
time she finished, all she could feel was a numbness of soul and spirit. 
     "Come, cherie," Lacroix said, placing a gentle kiss against her temple. 
 "I'll take you home." 
     As if she had lost all interest in life itself, Natalie absently nodded, 
allowed herself to be lifted up by Lacroix, and closed her eyes to the world. 
 
                                                   ******* 
 
     Back at the townhouse, Natalie sat in the library on the sofa before the 
fireplace, staring at the black nothingness.  Lacroix had set down a full 
glass on the table in front of her, but she didn't seem to see it, either. 
 She wanted to die.  Oh, how she wanted to die... 
     Lacroix sat down next to her and took one hand in his own.  She leaned 
against his shoulder, and he wrapped his other arm around her. 
     "What happened?" she asked weakly.  "How did you find him?" 
     "Quite by accident, I assure you," answered Lacroix, sounding sincere. 
 "Last week, I happened upon an exhibition of some new artistic talent one 
evening and found a work that reminded me of our Nicholas.  I made certain 
inquiries which, in turn, led me to him.  I found out that, for whatever 
reason, the only thing he remembers is his name, and *that* only recently." 
     "de Brabant?" Natalie asked. 
     "Yes," Lacroix replied.  "Just so.  No one it seems, including Nicolas, 
knows where he originally came from.  I tried to reach through the veil, but 
it was no use." 
     "Isn't there anything we can do?" she asked, drawing closer to him for 
comfort. 
     "There would be only...one thing that could return him to us," he said. 
     "No," Nat said, squeezing her eyes tightly and allowing more tears to 
fall.  "I - we - can't do that to him again.  He looked...so...happy." 
     "Agreed." 
     "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked Lacroix as she dabbed her eyes and 
shifted her gaze to him. 
     Lacroix smiled briefly, looking as if it was now his turn to try and 
stave off tears.  "I...thought...it would be easier if you never knew.  I, 
also, was afraid..." 
     "Of?" Nat asked. 
     "Losing you." 
     Natalie looked away from him and back at the fireplace, her feelings in 
a jumble.  She had loved Nick and always would.  She knew had come to love 
Lacroix. 
     "I should have trusted you more," he told her, "trusted in your word." 
     "Yes," she told him directly, "you should have."  She turned to look at 
him once more.  "Are we still going to leave Paris?" 
     "No.  Not unless your feelings have changed.  I would...prefer to stay 
and keep an eye on things, if you take my meaning." 
     She smiled at him for the first time in days and nodded in agreement. 
     "I want to make sure they're taken care of, too," she told him as she 
reached around and his shoulders and held him close.  "And can we go visit 
them sometimes?" she asked. 
     "Do you think that would be wise?" 
     "Oh, I don't mean, 'drop in for a visit,' she said as she laughed 
through the remaining tears, "just watch from a distance, make sure they're 
alright." 
     "My thoughts exactly," he whispered into her hair. 
     Some moments passed before Nat broke the silence. 
     "Lucien?" she asked. 
     "Yes?" 
      "Please hold me close tonight.  Hold me close and don't let go." 
     That night, Lacroix kept his promise. 
 
To be continued?
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