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Last Call
by Calliope Monsoon




He honestly didn't know how Janette had done 
it all those years.  Another evening spent leaning 
against the bar watching his children play with 
mortals.  Another sip from his glass, and he 
thought about Janette, how she had somehow found 
this amusing, had spent most of the this century 
as a club owner of one sort.
     He was immensely bored.  While there were 
worse ways to spend eternity, at the moment he 
could think of precious few of them.
     Not that this little endeavor was without its 
particular set of problems which, at times, could 
be amusing.  The boy from several months ago, the 
one Natalie Lambert had tried to "help."  That had 
been interesting, and he'd learned quite a bit 
about the good doctor in the process.  Not that it 
would matter in the end, but information was the 
most powerful weapon of all, a lesson Nicholas had 
yet to learn but one he suspected Natalie Lambert 
understood all too well.
     But mostly he found himself mediating petty 
disputes between his children and the other 
clientele.  Some of them knew, or perhaps it was 
better to say that some of them hoped, that in 
their pathetic way they felt part of some huge 
conspiracy.  To the younger vampire crowd it was a 
sort of game, one he strongly disapproved of, but 
indulged as long as it didn't get out of hand 
simply because it made this task, his "job" here 
more interesting every now and again.
     It wouldn't be much longer, though.  Janette 
had charged him to take care of the strays.  As 
far as he was concerned, he'd indulged that folly 
long enough.  It would be time to move on soon...
     There, over in the corner. 
     The mortal female had been in here every 
night for the past several weeks, having caught 
the eye of a new young vampire in town named 
Charles.  They sat in one of the back booths deep 
in conversation.  As he watched, Charles smiled 
gently, then reached forward to gently grasp the 
woman's wrist.  He toyed with it, stroking the 
inside with his thumb, his attention casually 
fixed to the girl's face all the while.
     She was well and truly under his spell, 
staring back at Charles with a dreamy expression 
on her face.  As he watched, Charles lifted her 
wrist to his lips, planting a soft kiss on it, 
lingering, tasting for several seconds.  The 
barest hint of gold tinged his eyes, and he waited 
expectantly for Charles to rise and lead her out 
into the night to find his pleasure.
     When the couple continued to sit, he lifted 
his glass to his lips.  Just before he took a sip 
he whispered Charles' name.  No mortal in the room 
heard him, could possibly have heard him but from 
the subtle shift in activity he knew that every 
vampire had. 
     That was all that was necessary.  Charles, 
still holding the girl's hand, and she really was 
quite lovely, he had to admit, rose and led her 
across the room.  As he passed the bar Charles 
glanced over, then quickly dropped his eyes, but 
not before he noted that there was no longer any 
hint of gold in the other vampire's eyes.
     It has been replaced with the barest traces 
of fear.
     And that subtle hint of fear had spread about 
the room.  He noted with, savoring the liquid in 
his glass, that they were all just a bit more 
wary, that they were all taking just a bit more 
care in their conversations with the mortals.
     With a sigh he set his glass back down on the 
bar.  Occasionally he allowed things to get out of 
control, but not too out of control.  It made this 
current incarnation just a bit more tolerable.  
But he didn't allow it often, and only when there 
was something to be gained in addition to 
entertainment.  It was all too easy, and while 
there was a part of him that was pleased over the 
fact that all it took was a mere raise of his 
eyebrows and a pointed look, it also helped to 
contribute to his restlessness, his need to be 
done with this place, to move on and find new 
challenges.

***

It didn't look like much from the outside, 
Natalie thought.  Gray brick building, windows 
boarded up, ominous black door.  She had a bad 
feeling about it.
     It could just simply be that this wasn't her 
type of place under normal circumstances, and 
she'd never been much of a party-goer at these 
conventions.  But this time around most of her 
interns and assistants were young, and saw this as 
a social experience as much as a professional one.
     Which is was, she had to admit.  The 
socializing could sometimes be as important a part 
of professional networking as were attending 
symposia and presentations.
     They'd gone out to dinner with Phil and 
several researchers from Columbia.  Natalie had 
been all too eager to spend the evening with 
Philip Carter, one of the top forensic 
pathologists in the field, and she'd been anxious 
to have the opportunity to compare notes.  A few 
of the interns had been adrift, so she'd gathered 
them up and invited them along, accompanied by 
several of Phil's graduate students.  
     They'd had dinner at an excellent Italian 
restaurant, though they'd turned out to be a 
slightly larger crowd than the restaurant was 
prepared to deal with without a reservation, but 
they'd managed to get several tables without too 
much of a wait.  The dinner took quite some time, 
however, and by the time they'd finished it was 
nearly nearly ten.
     On their way out Phil had suggested this 
club.  He'd been to it once before;  several of 
his graduate students spoke highly of it and 
seemed quite enthusiastic to go.  Natalie tried to 
bow out, but Phil had been rather insistent.
     And truthfully there was a part of her that 
decided that it might be fun to do something that 
she didn't normally do, to let her hair down so to 
speak.  Grace, and Jill in particular were working 
on her to join them, and so she finally gave in.  
It would be good, she thought.  She spent far too 
much time in work mode, and lately she'd been 
tense and irritable.  Nick . . . well, it was an 
understatement to say that Nick's recent setback's 
were a contributing factor.  She felt as though 
she'd aged 20 years in the time she'd known him.
     So she made up her mind.  And even led the 
way into the club.
     The inside was even less appealing, Natalie 
thought, taking in the lack of decor and the rough 
clientele.  She'd never cared much for The Raven, 
but compared to this place, it looked like Casa 
Loma.  There were a few tables and some chairs 
scattered around in one corner of a large, high 
ceilinged room   Everything was painted black, and 
someone had run several strings of white blinking 
Christmas lights in and around several of the 
pillars and around the speakers located near a 
raised stage in the center.  It stank of stale 
beer and smoke and perfume.
     With a sidelong glance at two of her youngest 
interns, she realized she should never have 
brought them here despite the fact that they were 
both of legal drinking age.  When she looked 
closely at them, however, she decided that they 
looked far more at home in this place than she 
did.
     Natalie started when someone shoved a wet, 
cold bottle into her hand, and she looked up to 
see Philip's graduate student grinning at her as 
he saluted her with his own drink.  What the hell 
was his name, she asked herself frantically.  
Mark...something, she thought as he guided her to 
a nearby empty table.   She didn't have the heart 
to tell him that she absolutely hated beer.
     "Isn't this place great!" Sheryl said, 
grinning enthusiastically.  Natalie watched as she 
took a long swallow of her beer, and thought about 
just how long she'd have to stay in order to be 
polite.  There was something about this place she 
didn't like.-an odd feeling of being watched that 
she couldn't quite put her finger on.  Instead she 
nodded and surreptitiously glanced around her at 
the other patrons in the room. 
     While it wasn't early, it obviously wasn't 
late enough for the regular crowd because the club 
was more or less empty.  A sullen woman with pale 
skin and far too much eyeliner, wearing a leather 
jacket, stood behind the bar.   A cluster of 
similarly clad men and woman were gathered around 
a table nearby having an enthusiastic conversation 
about something, though Natalie couldn't quite 
make out what they were saying above the music 
issuing from the loudspeaker.  Several more were 
near the door.
     And their group, looking incredibly out of 
place, even the ones who'd said they'd been to 
this club before.  Maybe they dressed for the 
occasion when it wasn't an impromptu excursion.  
Natalie didn't know.   But she secretly admitted 
to herself that none of these people, save for a 
few of the youngest members of her group, looked 
like they belonged in this place.  Nor did they 
look particularly comfortable.  
     They were showing off, she realized.  Trying 
to impress the tourists.
     She could remedy that easily enough, she 
thought.  Half an hour, tops, then she'd make 
excuses for her entire group.  Unless she was 
seriously wrong here, she had a feeling the ones 
responsible for their being here in the first 
place would be just as glad.  Satisfied, Natalie 
leaned back in her chair and lifted the bottle of 
beer to her lips.  One whiff, however, and she 
hastily placed it back on the table and glanced 
around the club one more time.
     More people had arrived, and as she watched 
them move across the floor to the bar a peculiar 
chill ran up her spine.  There was something about 
them, she realized, watching them intently.  She'd 
spent enough  time around them to know, had 
developed a sixth sense over the years.  This 
group of impossibly attractive people striding 
across the floor as if they owned the place...
     They were vampires.
     Natalie was certain.  Watching them 
carefully, she willed her heart rate to slow down 
even as she shrank back further into the corner.  
They didn't even have to speak when they reached 
the bar;  five beer bottles with no labels 
appeared as if by magic in front of them.  If you 
knew what you were looking at it wasn't hard to 
figure out that those bottles didn't contain beer.
     Drinks in hand, the five of them spread out 
around the club, and Natalie realized with horror 
that one of them, a tall, thin blond kid dressed 
all in leather, was heading for their table.
     "Hey," Grace said, nudging her.  Natalie 
nearly jumped out of her skin.  "He's looking 
right at you. "
     "What?" Natalie said, turning frantically to 
track him again.
     "He's not bad.  A little too white for my 
tastes, but not bad."
     "Grace, lets get out of here," Natalie said, 
rising.  Grace's hand on her arm stopped her.
     "Damn, girl, you are skittish!" Grace
exclaimed, dragging her back down into the chair.  
"He's just gonna ask you to dance."
     "No, I really think we should go," Natalie 
said emphatically.  "We don't fit in here, and 
this place is dangerous."
     Grace laughed.  "It's just a seedy little 
club in New York City, Nat.  Would you just relax 
and let your hair down for once?  Dance, have some 
fun, and especially forget about Nick Nightmare 
for a few hours."
     The blond vampire was getting closer, a 
strange, guarded expression on his face as he 
approached the table.   Hurriedly, Natalie turned 
to Grace and spoke very quietly.  "Grace, just 
humor me, OK.  Help me get  everyone together and 
lets get out of here!"
     Grace frowned at her for several seconds.  
"You're really afraid," she finally said.  "Nat, 
what's gotten into you?"
     "Please!" Natalie said, squeezing Grace's 
hand.  Any second now, Tall, Blonde and Dangerous 
would be at their table.
     Nodding slowly, Grace finally relented.  "You 
owe me an explanation," she said, turning to 
locate the rest of their group.  "Uh-oh.  Looks 
like you just lost your dance partner," she said, 
pointing to where Laura, one of the youngest 
interns in her office was leading the vampire onto 
the dance floor.  Natalie paled slightly as he 
turned and looked back at her, a predatory smile 
on his face.
     Just then, the music slowed, and Natalie 
watched as he pulled Laura positively against him, 
and they began to dance together suggestively.  
Thinking quickly, Natalie said, "Come get me in a 
minute or two."   Then she jumped up and moved 
quickly toward the couple, Grace's protest drowned 
out by the loud thrum of the music.
     "Mind if I cut in?" she asked as she 
approached the couple.  Natalie couldn't believe 
she was doing this, but she didn't see any other 
way to get Laura away from him.  If she tried to 
pull her away the young woman would undoubtedly 
protest.  While there was some merit to the idea 
of causing a scene, Natalie much preferred the 
idea of getting her people out of here quietly.  
That way also had a lower risk of anyone getting 
anything more hurt than their pride.  And if she 
caused a scene, she'd likely be the only one 
tossed out of here, leaving the others at the 
mercy of the vampires stalking the dance floor.
     "No!"  Laura snarled, just as he said, "Of 
course!"  Their voices clashed just beneath the 
din of the music.
     He solved the problem by shoving Laura away 
from him.  "Go on home, now, little girl," he 
added sarcastically before sweeping Natalie into 
his arms and moving away from her.  Natalie was 
vaguely aware of Laura gaping at them in outrage, 
but realized quickly she had far more serious 
matters to worry about.  He'd locked his arms 
around her back, and was holding her uncomfortably 
close, so much so that her feet barely touched the 
floor and she had no control over where he was 
leading her.
     Which was toward the back corner.  Natalie 
twisted her head, in the hopes that Grace was 
getting everyone together and would come to her 
rescue.  Instead, the table where they'd been 
sitting was empty.  He whirled her around 
suddenly, so that Natalie could look out over the 
dance floor to see Grace dancing with one of the 
women in the group of vampires, a dreamy 
expression on her face.
     Natalie had barely any time to register that 
when she felt her dance partner nuzzle her neck.  
She shuddered.  "My, my," he whispered, his lips 
brushing her ear, "but you're a frightened little 
bird."  He pulled back abruptly and looked down at 
her, his eyes golden and predatory.  "Why is that, 
do you suppose?" he asked.
     Natalie's felt her heart give one last beat, 
then go still.  For a moment or two she was pretty 
certain that was the last time it would ever beat, 
and that she would die right on the spot.  But a 
second later, it kicked into high gear, thundering 
in her chest and causing the vampire holding her 
to smile.  A wave of cold terror raced over her, 
and Natalie fought the urge to faint.
     "Don't be stupid," she finally managed to get 
out.  This earned her a hard stare as his smile 
faded into a hard line.  "There are too many of 
us.  We don't want any trouble."  She paused and 
licked her lips as they stood motionless in the 
shadowed corner, her small frame locked against 
his tall, lean one.  "Just let me go.   We'll 
leave immediately."  No response.  "We don't want 
any trouble," she repeated.
     He continued to stare down at her, his gray 
eyes fixed on hers, without blinking.  Natalie's 
attention was drawn quickly away by the sight of 
Grace dancing but this time with someone else, a 
male.  She wasn't certain he was a vampire.
     "No, no, no," he whispered, moving his hand 
from her back to catch her chin, turning her so 
that their eyes met again.  "Forget," he 
whispered.  Natalie felt his attempts to control 
her mind-it was a sensation that could only be 
described as an intense mental pressure, like an 
enormous balloon was being inflated inside her 
brain that crowded out everything but the desire 
to surrender, to submit.  Instinctively Natalie 
struggled against it, tearing her eyes away.  
LaCroix had caught her once when she'd thought 
herself immune;  she was terrified of falling into 
that abyss again, and would not go willingly.  
Even so, a part of her realized that giving in 
might be far wiser.  Resistance would seal her 
fate, and possibly the fate of those with her.
     If she'd thought submitting to him, allowing 
him to make her forget, would somehow ensure the 
safety of her group she would have tried that.  
But that was impossible,, so she attempted to fake 
it.   Natalie looked up into his eyes and tried to 
relax in his grip by slowing her breathing.
     Fixing her eyes on his she willed herself to 
stop trembling.  Unfortunately, she was doing a 
terrible job, she realized, as another tremor run 
through her.
     He felt it, too, she realized, when he 
abruptly withdrew from her mind.  He pulled away 
from her suddenly, but locked his arm around her 
neck, so that she basically hung at his side like 
a sack of potatoes.   Natalie grabbed his wrist 
and tried to pry it off her shoulder.  She 
realized that whatever hopes she'd had of getting 
out of here quietly were gone.  
     Which meant there was absolutely no reason 
not to scream, now.  Natalie managed to pull in a 
mouthful of breath, but her scream was cut off 
before it began when he  shifted slightly to clamp 
his hand over her mouth.  "Ah, ah," he cautioned, 
lifting the finger of his other hand to his lips.   
"No screaming.  It's a rule."
     Natalie screamed anyway, the hoarse sound 
muffled by his hand pressed against her lips.  
Jerking back with all her strength, Natalie 
managed to shift it just enough to get her teeth 
around the edge. as she kicked and punched him.  
Biting down with all her strength, she felt her 
teeth sink into his flesh, then tasted the 
metallic tang of blood accompanied by a strange 
tingling in her mouth.  Natalie firmly told the 
clinical part of her mind that tried to analyze 
the situation to shut up, and bit down harder.
     For the most part, her captor was completely 
oblivious to her effort.  Natalie was vaguely 
aware of him waving someone over as she was 
dragged through a nearby door.  With a quick pull 
he freed his hand, then she spun away from him 
violently as he released her with a shove.  When 
she hit the nearby wall, she hit it hard.  The 
impact drove all the breath from her body.
     He caught her as she started to slide 
bonelessly to the floor, but she was only dimly 
aware of his voice as he spoke to another person 
who had entered the room behind them.  "Tell the 
others to play nice, then send her friends off 
with a story," he said curtly.  Then he turned and 
smiled down at her.  "I found us a new toy to play 
with," he said.
     His companion leaned forward and favored her 
with the same cold smile, then turned and eagerly 
left the room.
     Desperate, Natalie looked around for an 
escape route, anywhere safe that she could bolt 
to.  But she was in what looked like a basically 
empty storeroom that was dimly lit by a single 
bulb hanging from the low ceiling.  A few wooden 
crates lined the walls, and a desk was tucked into 
one corner.  A sign above the desk said "No 
screaming" in large red block letters.  The only 
exit was the door she'd just been dragged through.
     As her breath returned she began to feel 
every ache and pain in her body from being slammed 
into the wall.  She was going to be mighty bruised 
tomorrow, she thought.  Then her mind stopped cold 
as she realized that for her, there probably was 
no tomorrow.
     Partially releasing his hold on her, he 
lifted the hand she had bitten up and inspected it 
with a grim smile.  She could see small drops of 
blood gathered around her already fading 
teethmarks.  Lifting his hand to his mouth, he 
licked the remaining drops of blood off, then 
leaned closer to her.  Fascinated in spite of 
herself, Natalie watched his fangs drop slowly.  
"I bite too," he whispered, his face inches from 
hers, then he leaned forward and ran his cold 
tongue across her lips, gathering  the tiny flecks 
of blood she could still feel tingling against her 
skin.
     Natalie gagged, and jerked her head to the 
side.  She tried to scream again, but he grabbed 
her chin in a tight grip and turned her face back 
to him, kissing her roughly.  She felt his cold 
tongue force its way into her mouth, and 
shuddered, even as his other hand grabbed at her 
skirt and began pulling it up, giving him access 
to the flesh of her thighs and buttocks.  His body 
pressed her tightly against the wall so that she 
couldn't slip away from him.
     In sheer rage and disgust, Natalie growled 
deep in her throat and bit down with all her 
might, catching his tongue between her teeth.  At 
the same time she brought both hands up to the 
side of his face and dragged her nails across the 
skin of his cheeks and eyes as hard as she could, 
feeling the flesh furrow beneath her fingers.  She 
tried to slam her foot against the top of his 
instep, but missed.
     With a bellow of pain, he pushed himself away 
from her.  Natalie was ready.  As soon as he moved 
she tried to dart around him, but he caught her 
arm in a crushing grip and swung her around 
roughly, his free hand coming around for a blow to 
her face.  Natalie saw it coming, but had no time 
to react, and the blow knocked her across the 
room.
     He was on her again, instantly, dragging her 
up by her hair and slapping her again, though this 
time she was able to partially block the blow.  
Pushing her against the wall, he grabbed both her 
hands in one of his and pulled them up over her 
head, pinning her there helpless.  His eyes were 
bright red, matching the rivers of blood that ran 
in streaks across his face.   But she was 
especially horrified to see that he was smiling 
again as he brushed at a bit of blood trickling 
out of his mouth with his free hand.  "Good!" he 
said hoarsely, pressing closer and nuzzling her 
neck.  "I like it when they fight," he said as she 
felt his fangs scrape across her jaw and neck.
     "Hey man, slow down," she heard another voice 
say.  She hadn't heard the door open.  "The 
others'll be in for show and tell in half an 
hour."  The only acknowledgment her attacker gave 
was to breathe deeply against her neck and nod his 
head.  At the same time, however, she felt his 
free hand roam across her body, eliciting another 
deep shudder.  She responded by lashing out with 
her legs, but he effectively stopped her by 
leaning against her more firmly and digging his 
fingers into a particularly sensitive area.
     She tried to hold still then, to block out 
the feel of his hand sliding across her breasts 
and down her back, of his fingers working loose 
the buttons of the blouse she wore.  Every calming 
breath she attempted to draw, however, ended 
upcoming out in a wracking half-sob that started 
deep in her abdomen and worked its way to her 
throat with agonizing slowness.
     "Looks like she gave you some trouble," the 
other one said as he walked past her field of 
vision and perched on the corner of the desk.  He 
was younger than the one holding her, at least in 
terms of physical features.  Natalie guessed he 
couldn't be more than sixteen, and there was a 
viciousness to his features, a hardness about the 
eyes.  That, and the sharp fangs in his mouth, 
made him look a bit like a cat.
     "This is a mistake," she managed to rasp out.
     "You know, I wish you could have picked 
another one.  This one's old," Cat-Boy said, his 
lip curling in disgust.
     Natalie tried again.  She obviously couldn't 
fight her way out of this.  Maybe it wasn't too 
late to reason with them.  "I'll be missed," she 
gasped out.  
     He stopped nuzzling her and pulled back, 
grinning down at her.  "It was the only resistor I 
could find," he said, turning slightly to look at 
his companion.  "Only the resistors, remember."
     "Right," the other one laughed.  "Our 
community service."
     "I'm an ME in Toronto," Natalie said quickly, 
determined not to give up.  There had to be a way 
out of this.  "I have friends," she added, 
emphasizing the term.  "Friends who'll be very 
upset if I disappear."  Natalie hated making it 
sound like she was on close, personal terms with 
most of the vampires in Toronto.  But this was an 
emergency, and she figured they owed her one.  
Right now, she'd say just about anything to 
escape.
     The scratches she'd left on his face were 
fading rapidly, the flesh knitting back together 
again right before her eyes.  But he addressed her 
this time.  "Doesn't matter," he grinned, his hand 
moving up to roughly caress her face.  "You're in 
our territory now.   Most of our kind thank us for 
getting rid of troublemakers like you.  Didn't 
anyone ever tell you that you get burned when you 
play with fire?"  He moved to kiss her again, his 
fingers tightening ominously around her wrists.  
Inches from her face he paused and breathed, 
"This'll only be unpleasant if you want it to be.  
You could go out with a real bang."
     He pressed his mouth against hers again, 
roughly, his hand on her face forcing her to 
endure the assault as his  strength and his weight 
held her prisoner.  A wave of nausea washed over 
her as she tasted blood on his tongue, and feebly 
she tried to struggle again.  Her efforts were 
rewarded with a sharp punch to her ribs that 
Natalie knew instantly broke several of them.  
Between the pain and the air being driven from her 
lungs, her vision began to swim and she was 
certain she was going to black out.  When he 
pulled his face back from hers she pulled in a 
gasping mouthful of breath, that ended in a cry as 
the expansion of her lungs caused pain.  
     Dimly she could hear both of them laughing as 
she struggled to breath and remain conscious 
against the agony.  They were laughing at her, 
laughing at her suffering, laughing at her feeble 
attempts to fight back as they systematically beat 
it out of her.  Natalie knew that if she didn't do 
something immediately her only chance to survive 
this nightmare would be gone.  One of them said 
something about checking out the goods, and she 
felt hands on her again, pulling at her clothes 
and exposing her skin. 
     This was it.
     Instinctively, Natalie closed her eyes and 
drew in another painful breath and blurted out the 
first word that came to mind.  "LaCroix" she said.  
     She'd intended to shout it, but it came out 
as a mere mumble.
     Apparently, that was enough, she realized 
after several groggy moments.  All movement in the 
room had stopped, and the two vampires were 
crowded closely around her, staring at her.
     "What did you say?" one of them asked.  The 
question was accompanied by a rough shake that 
disoriented her even more and caused shards of 
agony to slice through her upper body.   She was 
going to go into shock soon.  But she managed to 
form her lips around LaCoix's name again, to 
answer his question. Then the room seemed to 
explode with motion.  "Get her purse," the blond 
one said, flicking the order at his companion as 
if used to giving them for a long time.  "Find out 
who he is."  The other vampire complied quickly, 
lifting her bag from the desk and dumping its 
contents out.  He quickly scrabbled through it and 
found her wallet.  Opening it, he first located 
the cash she had in there and quickly pocketed it.  
This earned him a sigh of exasperation from his 
friend, along with a warning glare.
     "Natalie Lambert," he said, holding up her ID 
and reading from it.  Then his face sobered.  
"Toronto," he added ominously.  Natalie watched as 
the two of them eyed each other and her warily.
     "So," her captor said slowly, "You've seen 
LaCroix at..." his eyes flicked over her quickly, 
"At his bookstore?"  Natalie quickly shook her 
head.   "Oh yeah," he said angrily, pulling her 
hands up slightly causing her to gasp again.  "If 
he's such a good buddy of yours, what's he do for 
a living?"
     Natalie didn't have much strength left, and 
it hurt to talk, but she managed to whisper two 
words.  "Raven," she said.  He nodded.  Then, 
"Nightcrawler."
     "Shit!" the dark-haired one said, throwing 
her wallet down and running his hands through his 
hair.
     "Go make the call," the one holding her 
shouted, though she could feel him shifting 
nervously against her.. 
     "Go make the call?" he repeated.  Then he 
shook his head emphatically.  "I'm not making the 
call," he whined.  "You make it!"
     Pressed against her as firmly as he was, 
Natalie felt his snarl vibrate through her body.  
He twisted his head abruptly, and started to say 
something to the younger vampire, but seemed to 
think better of it.  Instead, he lowered his head, 
and in a few moments turned to face her again, his 
features normal.  Except for something in his 
eyes, his normal gray eyes, that hadn't been there 
before. 
     Fear.
     He was afraid.    Very afraid.
     Good, a small, vindictive voice in her head 
whispered.  You should know what it's like to be 
afraid, she thought.
     Abruptly, he released her, and caught her 
beneath the arms as she started to fall to the 
floor.  "Get a chair," he commanded, then sat her 
down almost gently in it as soon as it appeared.  
"Watch her," he said, then turned to leave the 
room.  At the door, however, he paused.  "Don't 
touch her!" he warned, waving a finger at his 
friend.
     "Just make sure you tell him I never laid a 
hand on her."  That earned him another growl.
     Then the room was quiet, though she could 
sense the nervous energy as her guard anxiously 
paced the room.  He never took his eyes off her.  
For her part, all Natalie wanted was to slip into 
some numb oblivion and deal with all this later.  
     But the doctor in her began rapidly assessing 
her wounds.  Definitely broken or bruised ribs, 
both from being punched and shoved.  She could 
feel the side of her face swelling from where he'd 
slapped her, and god knew what other types of 
marks he'd left on her while he'd pawed at her.  
That last thought made Natalie shudder, and she 
quickly put it out of her mind.
     "Man, we're dead," he was muttering, now.  
"We are screwed!"  He whirled to face her.  "I 
should just kill you now!"  His movements became 
more panicked.  
     Natalie sat still and watched him warily.  If 
he were to attack her she knew she had absolutely 
no fight left in her.  All those resources were 
gone, and with the chill creeping into her body 
she knew that shock was setting in.  She'd need to 
get to an emergency room quickly.
     He came to stand directly over her.  "Shit!" 
he snarled again, and she could see his fangs were 
down and his eyes were bright red.  He moved 
toward her.  Natalie screamed and pushed back with 
her feet with all her might, tilting the chair 
back so that she was dumped onto the floor with a 
thud that hurt like hell.  Desperately, she 
scrambled away from him on hands and knees.
     The attack never came.  
     Natalie heard the door open, then a shout.  
Then silence.  
     When she dared to look up, both vampires were 
standing over her, but the blond one held the 
other tightly by the throat, his feet a few inches 
off the floor.  After a moment, he dropped him 
down and shoved him against the wall.  "Get her 
wallet and purse together and get rid of it," he 
said.  Natalie didn't like the sound of that.
     Sullenly, the vampire gathered her things 
together and exited the room without looking back.  
They both watched him go.  Then he turned and 
glared down at her, before helping her to her 
feet.  Natalie was shaking by this time.  They 
were going to kill her, she was certain.  Invoking 
LaCroix's name had been a huge mistake-he'd given 
them permission to get rid of her.  It solved all 
his problems, she realized.  She'd made a huge 
mistake.
     He grasped her by both shoulders and shook 
her slightly, though not hard.  "Look at me," he 
ordered.  It took several seconds for her to 
manage it, but Natalie finally decided if she was 
going to die, her killer was going to have to look 
her in the eye while he did it.  "Here's the 
drill," he said.  "Your friends think you went 
back to the hotel with them.  They were going to 
be just as surprised as everyone else when you 
wound up missing the next day.  Do you 
understand?"
     Why is he telling me this, she wondered, but 
nodded automatically.  "You did go back with them 
last night.  But then you started to feel sick, so 
you went out for some medicine."
     Natalie frowned.  That would be stupid, going 
out late at night in a strange city by herself.  
She opened her mouth to protest that she'd never 
be that dumb when it dawned on that he was giving 
her a cover story.  Presumably while out, she'd 
been attacked.  Mutely, almost afraid to hope, 
Natalie nodded.  "Someone tried to rape you, but 
you fought him off.    You never got a good look 
at him.  Do you understand?"  Natalie nodded 
again.
     "I need...hospital," she said after a second 
or two.  He grimaced, and started to shake his 
head, then took in her appearance and changed his 
mind.  "OK,  I'll take you to a hospital, but 
you're going to have to get to the emergency room 
yourself.  I can't be seen with you."  Then he 
sighed, and glanced down at her again.  Natalie 
flinched when he reached out to touch her, but he 
only began straightening her clothes.  Once he was 
satisfied, he looked up at her once more.  "Two 
things," he said, holding up two fingers.  "One, 
tell...him....I'm sorry.  And that I didn't know."  
He paused and licked his lips, and when he looked 
back at her, his eyes blazed yellow.  "Two, I 
don't ever want to see you again.  Anywhere.  You 
see me, you run the other way."  His words were 
clipped and angry, and there was no mistaking his 
meaning.  "Do you understand?"
     Natalie nodded again.  As he moved to help 
her walk, Natalie shrank away from him with a 
small whimper.  She couldn't bear to have him 
touch her again.  He merely shrugged, and turned 
to lead the way, check to make sure she was behind 
him as they moved out into the now mostly empty 
club.  Several of the vampires looked at her, and 
Natalie was certain she saw resentment on their 
faces.  
     To try and stay focused, she mentally 
reviewed their story, and what she'd have to do to 
back it up.  It was better than falling to pieces 
right now, which was a luxury she didn't have 
right now.
     Instead, she began making a list.  She'd have 
to make note of the streets near the hospital.  
And she'd have to clean her fingernails in case 
they wanted to take samples.  
     And she had to decide what she was going to 
say to Nick.
     And to LaCroix.

***

     He'd decided not to open the club this 
evening.   No doubt his usual patrons all had some 
contingency plan for the nights when he decided he 
simply wasn't in the mood for their games.
     The club was at its most pleasant when it was 
quiet, when no bodies writhed about inside her.  
It was peaceful.
     His show was long over, and LaCroix sat 
quietly at the bar, sipping from a glass.  
Waiting.  He was expecting a visitor tonight, 
though no one had called.  It was part of the 
reason why he'd canceled the evening's 
festivities, out of a small deference to her.  
He'd left instructions for her, and only her, to 
be allowed in when she arrived.  And she would 
arrive, sooner or later.  Of that he was certain.
     The last drops from the glass had just passed 
his lips when he felt a slight rush of cool air 
enter the club as the door opened.  Without 
looking up, he refilled his glass, well aware that 
she was standing expectantly on the steps, waiting 
for him to acknowledge her.  Taking a first sip, 
he sighed with pleasure, then decided to 
accommodate her one more time.
     Turning, he lifted the glass in greeting to 
her.  "Doctor Lambert," he said cordially.  "What 
a pleasant surprise.  May I offer you a drink?" he 
asked, gesturing her over to a seat next to him at 
the bar.
     "No thank you," she said, not moving.
     "And what brings you here this evening?" he 
asked.  He actually wasn't entirely certain of the 
answer, and decided that intrigued him.
     "I think you know," she said evenly.
     He placed his glass carefully on the bar and 
rose to his feet.  "I must say," he said, the 
faintest hint of sarcasm in his voice.  "I'm 
surprised you'd be out...'clubbing'...so soon, all 
things considered."  His smile was sly, and he was 
a little taken aback when she returned it.  Now 
that was a surprise.  "I'm afraid I can't 
accommodate you this evening.  But if you'd like 
to come back tomorrow..."  He let his voice trail 
off with the offer as her smile disappeared.  
LaCroix could see the bruises on her face, and 
there was a stiffness in the way she stood that 
was likely due to the broken ribs she'd sustained.
     "Nicholas reacted with his usual melodrama?" 
he asked, turning away to retrieve his drink 
again.
     She nodded.  "He did."
     "What did you tell him?"
     Now she moved forward, almost imperceptibly 
more at ease, he sensed.  She took the stool next 
to him at the bar.  "I told him...the official 
story.  For obvious reasons," she said.
     LaCroix smiled.  "A wise choice.  I doubt 
Nicholas would appreciate the fact that you called 
out to me for help."
     "And then he gave me a very long lecture on 
the dangers of going out by myself," she added, 
with a deep sigh.
     "You do live in a very dangerous world, 
Doctor Lambert," he reminded her.
     She looked up at him at that, then nodded 
slowly.  "I know," she said.  "Believe me, I know.  
The question is, why?"  She looked intently at him 
then.
     "Why didn't I just let them kill you?" he 
asked, taking another sip.  "It's a very good 
question.  What do you think the answer is?"
     "I don't know," she replied.  He could tell 
from her expression that she was telling the 
truth, and that that truth troubled her.  "It 
wasn't out of respect human life.  Or for me, 
specifically.  I know that."
     "And that bothers you," he stated.
     She shrugged, then nodded.  "I figure it's 
one of two things.  Either you did it for Nick's 
sake..."
     "A possibility," he said.
     "Or you'd like that particular pleasure for 
yourself," she added ruefully.
     LaCroix leaned back and laughed, vastly 
amused that she'd even broach the subject, let 
alone in such a direct manner. Though he'd never 
admit it to her, LaCroix admired her willingness 
to grasp the tiger by the tail in her dealings 
with his kind.  It was beyond stupid, and annoying 
most of the time.  But at moments like this, he 
had to admit he found it quite refreshing.
     "I suppose we shall have to wait and see, 
won't we?" he said, after a few moments.
     Satisfied, he watched a flicker of fear cross 
her eyes.  Then she drew a deep breath, and 
reached out to lightly touch his hand as it rested 
on the bar.  The warmth of her fingers nearly made 
him flinch, but he resolutely held still and 
regarded her with a well-schooled distant 
expression on his face.   "Thank you," she said 
earnestly.  "For whatever reason."
     And then she left, the same swirl of cool air 
that had marked her arrival ushering her out the 
door.
     He sat at the bar for a long time, briefly 
contemplating the implications of her visit.  Her 
thanks had been unexpected.  So unlike Nicholas in 
that respect, he mused.    
     But his mind quickly turned to more important 
and relevant matters.  Though it was a dangerous 
game, and one he'd quickly put a stop to, he had 
to admit that those two whelps in New York had 
come up with a form of entertainment that he 
thought was no longer possible in this modern 
world, one that he had not engaged in for many 
centuries.  It had the added benefit of 
fulfilling, as far as he was concerned, a 
community service as long as one was clever and 
careful to maintain a sense of order. 
     Images of Nicholas and Janette, in all their 
glory, came unbidden to his mind, and he nodded 
with satisfaction, losing himself momentarily in 
the memories.  
     Yes, it was an idea with possibilities.  
Should he ever find himself in the position he was 
in now, he would have to consider it further.

The End