Ends and Beginnings By Kayla Gayle Disclaimer: Standard issue applies here—I do not own them, if I did the third season never would have happened and it would still be on the air. Oh well…. However, I do own the characters of Carey, Esme, and the other Reno vamps. Do not use without permission, if you please. Special thanks to Susan Garrett, who is possibly the best of the best of Forever Knight writers. I owe her Vampire’s Anonymous series a great debt. Also Nancy Kaminsky's series of the above. Both great influences. Timeline is after Last Knight. Oh yes, this could be considered a kind of Dark Knightie story. N&NPakers may want to leave now, though she’s treated with great respect. Rating is most likely PG-13. Enjoy. Constructive criticism allowed, flames are not. This is a VAMPIRE story after all…. CHAPTER ONE The Raven was crowded that night. The thump of the techno music that LaCroix had been playing as of late was appreciated by the crowd—mortal and immortal alike. The one person in the club who was not seemingly having a good time was the tall blond man sitting in a back booth, sipping a glass of red wine. Or rather, bovine. Nicolas De Brabant—a.k.a. Nick Knight—had given up on human blood long ago. Fed up with being a creature of darkness, he wanted to walk in the light, to be mortal once again. He thought he had that chance this go around, for the coroner Natalie Lambert had been helping him to come back across. Now all was changed. Nat lay in a hospital, the victim of a mugger who stopped her, as she was about to enter Nick’s loft. Or at least, that was the story Nick told IA, and Nat had backed him up, when she woke up and was coherent. His “father” could not bring himself to stake his “son”. And it was LaCroix who flew Nat to the emergency room and then disappeared before anyone knew what was about. Tracy too was alive—sharing Nat’s room, by coincidence or not. Backup had arrived in time to save her, the hospital had her records crossed with another’s. Her father threatened to sue the hospital, and the uproar put more regulations into place to make sure that it did not happen to anyone else. To add to it all, Don Schanke was still living. He had been comatose since the plane crash. He had been mistaken for another, for Schanke had left his seat. He had just awoken several weeks ago, still shaky with his memories but still Schanke. Janette had left word as well; she was in her beloved Paris. Her mortal charge was with relatives of Robert’s. So all should have been well in Nick-land, but it was not. Pending investigation of the Lambert issue, as the Captain said, Nick had been suspended. Not permanently, he was assured. Just a temporary measure. Nick took another sip out of his glass. He grimaced at the taste. Since tasting Nat’s blood, the beast had wanted to take control. He felt a light tap on his shoulder and he turned to see a female vampire standing there. “Hi,” she said, brightly. “Hello.” “My name is Gilda MacGuffin. And you must be the infamous Nick.” Nick regarded her. Like all creatures of his type, he had a fantastic memory. Gilda just was not familiar. “No,” she laughed, knowing his thought train. “We’ve never met. However, everyone knows you—and your quest.” “If you’ve come to poke fun, I’m not in the mood,” warned Nick. “Not poke fun.” She said, as she gestured toward the empty seat opposite Nick. “May I join you?” A shrug from the noncommittal detective and the woman sat. “I just wanted to talk with you.” “About what?” asked a wary Nick. “Do you really wish to become mortal? Or just regain your humanity?” Nick thought about this a moment. Gilda continued. “Listen, I was brought across in 1304, not too long after yourself. It was in northern England. I too know the pressure the church pressed on us back then. You considered yourself a good Catholic; something that you thought lost when you came over. You were a knight of the crusades, after all. Going after the infidels in the Holy Land, questing for God and country.” Silence from across the table. Gilda sighed. “You wish to atone for your sins, to save your soul. You can do that all, Nick. As a vampire.” He looked up at her at that. “Tell me, do you use your—um—‘special skills’ often? Do you fly to a crime scene? Use your senses to help those in need? How many cases would you have solved, Nick, if you were human? Hmm? Think about it—no dramatic rescues, no hearing cries for help…and as for danger, well, you would have been dead. How many times have you been shot, or almost killed by a, how do you say, perp?” Nick shook his head. “That was different. I was trying to…” “No, you just don’t want your soul to be dammed. That is that medieval thinking once more rearing its ugly little head. You can still pray, Nick. Just not near any crosses. And fooling mortals into thinking you’re one of them is a worse lie. Your wanting to be like them nearly cost two partners their lives.” “One.” She shook her head. “Two. If you were mortal, you never would have solved the case that put your first partner on that plane. And if you had, you could have gone yourself. And your coroner friend, whom you claim to love? You were about to bring her over, make her what you despise. And poor Janette! She was mortal, you brought her across as well, against her wishes.” Nick had the grace to blush. It was all true, but who was this? Had someone sent her? “No, you like being a vampire. You like the power, the glory, just not the killing. You can be a happy vamp without committing murder, you know. You can drink human blood as well…” “That is what keeps me from coming across,” he said, parroting Nat’s words. Her laugh sounded like ice tinkling in a glass. “No, Nicholas. That is what keeps you alive, as it were. You are constantly hungry, are you not? That means you can lose control too easily. Human blood can be acquired without the hunt. I have a friend, and you have been in Toronto too long. All your human friends know about our existence. The sooner you leave, the more they live.” She handed Nick a business card—it belonged to someone named Cary Shelley. The address was Reno, Nevada. Suddenly a light shone in his brain, she was a type of Enforcer. This was a warning. Veiled—but a warning. Gilda rose to leave, touching a hand to her flame-colored hair. She held her hand out and Nick, ever the 12th century persona, kissed it. It earned him a smile as she kissed his cheek. “Heed my words well, Monsieur De Brabant. Adieu.” And she was gone, leaving behind a quite astonished vampire in her wake. CHAPTER 2 Nick glanced over at the clock on the bedside table: 3:30pm. He sighed. Since his lecture by Gilda the previous night, he had not been getting a lot of sleep. What she said weighed heavily on his mind. Did he like being a vampire? Was it really that? He tossed away the covers and shuffled to the bathroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Did his being a good cop have to do with his abilities? He thought back upon all the cases he had solved. He had picked up things with supernatural hearing, used his unusual strength when he had to. Then if he liked the fringe benefits of vampirism, what did he not like? He walked back into the bedroom and began picking an outfit for that night. All the while he was in the shower, shaved, dressed and prepped he thought about it. It bothered him. Nick walked down the stairs of his loft and into the kitchen. He opened the door to the fridge and stood staring at the green bottles. This was the key, the thing that was preventing him from…coming across. After a moment of indecision, he took a bottle and uncorked it. The he went over to the divan to sit. He took a quick drink and the phone rang. “Yeah, Nick Knight. I’m either in bed or incommunicado. So if you want to leave your name and number, go ahead.” “Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man. Placed on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great; With too much knowledge for the skeptic side, With too much weakness for the stoic’s pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest; In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast; In doubt his mind or body to prefer; Born but to die, and reasoning but to err; Alike in ignorance, his reason such, Whether he thinks too little, or too much; Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; Still by himself abused, or disabused; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled: The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!” Nick nearly dropped the bottle. That was Gilda’s voice, reciting Alexander Pope. The name of the poem escaped him and he rose to the bookcase and pulled one from the shelf. He opened it and found it: from Epistle II—An Essay on Man. Nick went back to the sofa and stretched out. ‘Know then thyself’, did he really know himself. He had been wore out and cynical when Janette brought him over, sick of all the killings in the name of God. Was he a force for good, or for bad? Was his 13th century morality, steeped in religion, to blame? The phone rang again and again Nick let the machine take it. It was Gilda again; damn she was haunting him now. But the message was a little different: “Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness: He is gracious, and merciful, and righteous. Well is it with the man that dealeth graciously and lendeth; He shall maintain his cause in judgment. For he shall never be moved; The righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance. He shall be afraid of evil tidings: His heart is fixed, trusting in Jehovah. His heart is established he shall not be afraid, Until he sees his desire upon his adversaries. He hath dispersed, he hath given to the needy; His righteousness endureth for ever: His horn shall be exalted with honor. The wicked shall see it, and be grieved; He shall gnash with his teeth, and melt away. The desire of the wicked shall perish.” Now it was Psalms 112, albeit a little different from the version he had learned. Was he a light in the darkness? Was he gracious, merciful, and righteous? No. ‘Well, why not?’ said a small voice inside his head. He had tried to live an upright life, or as upright as you could get and need blood to live. Was the police force possibly to blame for all his angst? Was theology? As it was, he saw death nearly everyday and all his mortal friends were in the hospital because of him. But what would he do? He had enjoyed teaching; maybe he could do that again. How could he be true to himself? He took another swallow of cow and picked up a remote and turned on the television. CNN was on, 24-hour news. Nick half listened to the stories, the top stories had passed and they were doing their fluff pieces. “A cold spell in the northern US has left many street people without shelter. With the recent budget cutbacks, more and more shelters are being forced to turn people away.” They then showed a picture of several woman and their children, waiting outside for a place to stay the night. Nick sat straight up. The rest of the piece was more of the same. Then it hit him—the De Brabant Foundation. ‘He hath dispersed, he hath given to the needy’. He thought about Jennie and Topper, all the homeless souls he had let share his basement. Maybe he could do something for them? Nick put the bottle down, rose, and walked over to a desk in the corner. He turned on the computer that sat there and composed a little note to Aristotle… Nearly three hours later, Nick shut down his computer. The e-mails had been sent, the letters written, plans made. He walked into the kitchen, poured himself another drink and pushed the button for the elevator. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The 96th Precinct was bustling that night. It was a full moon and it seemed to bring out every crazy in Toronto. Captain Joe Reese sat at his desk and wished the events of the past few months had not happened. They sure could use Tracy and Nick right about now, not to mention Natalie Lambert. Try as they might, Grace and the gang at 26 Grenville just could not keep up with the brilliance that was the young doctor. Detectives kept poking their heads in all night, keeping him updated about their cases. Not expected was the silence that permeated the station and the figure that stood at the door, knocking. Talk began as soon as the figure entered the office. “Knight?” said Reese in amazement. “Your suspension is almost over, thank God. We could sure use you.” “Actually, Captain, about that,” the detective seemed out of sorts, as he walked to Reese’s desk and laid a piece of paper on it. “I’ve thought it over a long time,” he continued, as the Captain read the contents, “I think its time for me to move on. Nat…Dr. Lambert will be home soon, Tracey and Schanke will be out of the hospital in about a month. I’m still a suspect, even though I’ve been cleared. Trace and Don would make a good team.” Nick swallowed. “So, it’s final. Here’s my badge and gun.” Nick handed over his weapon, wrapped in a holster and, reluctantly it seemed to Reese, his badge. The Captain stood. “Knight, you don’t have to do this. The talk will die down and you’re one of the best we have in Toronto. I realize it’s been a rough few weeks, but…” “You don’t understand, Captain. I need to do this. I need to make a fresh, clean start away from here.” Reese shook his head in resignation. “I sure wish I could change your mind.” The former homicide detective shrugged. “I wish you could also.” And with that, he walked out of the office and away from the precinct. He drove next to the hospital where his friends from this life were staying. Nat and Tracy had been put in the same room. With stealth (vampire stealth, Nick wryly noted) he was able to get into their room. Nat was sleeping, but Tracy was awake. Her eyes opened wide when she saw who it was and she mouthed his name. “What are you doing here?” she asked, sotto voce. “I’ve come to say goodbye.” Tracy started at that. Nick held a hand up. “It has to do with everything. I also have something I need to tell you, I think you should know.” He took a deep breath. “I should have trusted you. You kept Vachon’s secret, you would have kept mine.” It took the blonde in the bed a few beats to respond. Then she slowly nodded, as if pieces of the puzzle had come together. A tear fell from her eye, remembering the dashing Spanish vampire she had come to fall in love with. “As you know from him, there comes a time for us to move on. It’s my time. There are too many memories here, I need to make a clean break.” “Does she know?” asked Tracy, gesturing to the sleeping woman in the next bed. “About me being a vampire? Yes. Me leaving? No.” “I think you ought to tell her.” Nick nodded. “One more thing, I think you and my old partner should team up. I’ve talked to Reese about it. You’ll do good together, as long as you can stand polka music.” Tracy nodded. Nick sighed and kissed her on the forehead. “It has been good to know you, Tracy Vetter.” He then walked over to the sleeping Dr. Lambert. This was going to be harder. He shook Nat and she turned over, sleepily, and with some problem, given the IV in her arm. “Nick, what a surprise,” she said, weakly. Losing almost all her blood had made recovery difficult. “Thanks. How are you doing?” “I’ll live,” then she laughed at her joke. “And you?” Nick sat on the bed and told her of his visit with Gilda. “I think she’s right, Nat. There are parts of me being whom I am that I like. The “superpowers” you could say. But I don’t think I can keep up this looking for mortality. After all, I was going to bring you into the darkness, so things must not be all that bad.” He tried to smile. “And it’s just time to move on. Too many close calls, too many lost.” “But you’ve made so much progress! You’ve held crosses, eaten food! It’s just an addiction…” The vampire shook his head. “No, it’s ingrained. Remember your experiments? The extra nucleotides? It’s in our blood, literally. I’ve never told you this, Nat, but I’ve always been half starved most of the time I’ve known you. I think the reason I almost killed you was because of that. Plus, putting the monster to bed is getting harder. No,” he said to her unspoken question, “I will not go back to killing humans. There must be a way to reconcile both man and vampire, and I will find it.” Nat could make no sound, except for the tears running down her cheeks. Nick took her in his arms and held her for a good long while. Then he let go and left the room, the hospital, and got back into the Caddy. He had plans to make and Reno was a flight away. CHAPTER 3 Instinct told Nick that it was almost sundown. He yawned and stretched and looked around at the room where he slept. It was a large room, decorated in late Victorian. It was a little fussy for his taste, but the 4-poster bed was extremely comfortable. He arose from the bed and padded over to the heavy drapes and opened them. A blackout shade covered the window as well and Nick pulled it up. The sun was just dipping over the mountains in the background, lighting them up in a rainbow of hues. That, he thought, would be nice to paint. He sat in the window enclosure and thought about his week in Reno. Aristotle and Larry Merlin had taken care of all of the finer details of his emigration from Toronto to the US. There were a lot of forms to fill out and he had to update his passport. Arrangements were made for the sale of the loft and the storage of most of the items contained within. LaCroix was bemused by Nick’s sudden decision, but approved, in his LaCroxian way. He actually saw his “son” off at the airport. The flight was long—departing at 6:30pm EST and arriving in Minneapolis at 7:45pm CST. Then he had a layover of an hour and a half before departing and arriving in Reno at 10:51pm PST. All together, it was a flight of over 7 hours, and it was not cheap—costing over $1200. He found a hotel shuttle and it took him to his room downtown at the Eldorado. Though it was late, Nick decided to call the number on the card he had been given. He wasn’t really surprised when a chipper voice answered. “Good evening, S & G Enterprises. How may I help you today?” “Cary Shelley, please.” “Yes, sir. One moment, please.” A pause. “Sir, transferring call.” The phone rang and was picked up by someone, who transferred him to someone else, who handed him off to a third person. Nick was getting exasperated when a male voice came on the line. “Yes sir, Mr. Shelley is expecting your call.” “May I speak with him?” “I’m sorry, Mr. Knight, but Mr. Shelley is out of town on business. However, if you would leave your hotel and number, Mr. Shelley will contact you the moment he gets back.” “And when will that be?” “Not sure, sir. I do not handle Mr. Shelley’s travel arrangements. I am afraid that the one responsible for that is not working tonight. But I am sure Mr. Shelley will be back within the week.” A sigh. “Do you know where he went?” “No sir. Mr. Shelley’s travel plans are handled by another department.” Around and around it went for almost 20 minutes, then Nick hung up the phone. He was not in a good mood when he called the automated VIN service. After listening to a myriad of menu choices (at $5.00 a minute), he finally found a source for sustenance, and they delivered. So, for the next three days, Nick explored the city. It was a 24- hour town, for nothing seemed to close. He got into a poker tournament at the MGM, saw the Superstars show, watched the acts at Circus Circus, and generally toured. The atmosphere of the city was as the American’s would say, laid back and comfortable—a truly Western town. But there was another side: the Reno Gospel Mission and St. Vincent’s were all within walking distance of downtown. Nick saw more than one homeless woman and child while on his nightly walking tours. He also learned to spot them at the Copper Ledge in the CalNeva, counting the change for the tax on the .99 cent breakfast, sans drink. So the time passed, at least it wasn’t boring here. On Tuesday, he took the elevator up to the 20th floor and paused by his room. Someone, or something, was inside. He carefully swiped his key card and opened the door. There, sitting in a chair looking out the window was a figure. Nick (not really needing it, but out of habit) flicked on the light. The man in the chair smiled at him. He was drinking out of a water glass—human by the smell of it, and of a rather good vintage at that. The vampire had dark hair, hazel eyes and an average build. Nick could not tell his age, but sensed he was not very old at all. He was dressed immaculately in a charcoal gray Armani suit. Jeanette would like this one, Nick thought to himself. The man stood and approached Nick with his hand out, they stood about the same height. “Hi, sorry to knock you into a cocked hat. I’m Cary Shelley.” Nick took his hand and smiled at the quaint expression of surprise. “I got called off at the last moment on some business and had to leave rather suddenly. I do apologize for having you cool your heels.” The blond vampire shrugged. “Not a problem. I was out exploring.” “What do you think of it?” asked Cary, with a small smile. Nick considered. “Interesting place.” “So, it’s near daybreak. Ready to go?” said the other, going to the sink and rinsing out his glass. “Go? Go where?” “To check out. You do need to go house hunting, don’t you? And to get things settled, I was told of your plans. Plus all these folks will be coming up here around candle-light, and you don’t want people to suspicion, do tell.” All Cary got was a blank stare. “I do apologize for my slang, sometimes I forget myself,” he grinned. “It’s a failing.” Nick waved it off, and realized what he had said was true. Due to his hours, people would wonder. “And where do I stay?” he asked. “Well, since I put you out, you can stay at my place. I do have a few extra bedrooms, and it is the least I can do.” “Fine,” said Nick, finally. If it had to be, it had to be. “Let me pack…” “All done.” All done? Nick raised an eyebrow at that and a quick glance around the room told him it had been. That was cheeky. “They do have automated check out,” Cary said, helpfully and indicated the phone. What was going on here? Nick walked to the instrument and within minutes was checked out of the hotel. Out the door, down the elevator and through the lobby they walked, in silence. Cary handed the valet attendant a ticket and the man soon enough brought around a brand new Lexus sedan. “No flying?” asked Nick, as he entered the plush interior of the vehicle. “Too many people,” stated Cary in a very matter of fact voice. He drove carefully out onto Center Street and turned left at Fourth, then right onto Virginia. A sign indicated I-80 and he drove onto it going west. Several thoughts came to Nick at once, as he looked out the window. First, this was a vamp that had money and flaunted it. Second, the relaxed atmosphere extended to its undead citizens. Thirdly, who gave this guy the authority to decide that he needed to leave the hotel, and take his luggage? A sigh caused the driver to look at him. Though it was dark, Nick’s vampiric sight could make out the mountains up ahead. Cary spoke up, to break the uncomfortable silence. “So did you have a smooth flight?” he inquired. “I did, all the connections were on time, no turbulence. And you?” A sort of smile. “I own my own Lear, so my flights are always smooth.” If you got it and could get away with showing it, Nick mused. “Well, that’s certainly a different way of flying.” Cary laughed. “You could say that. I use mortal pilots, different ones for each flight so they never suspect. Humans are none too bright anyway, when it comes to us. And I had to fly to South America, which is a little far to fly myself.” He pulled off the highway and started south. “Reno is rather easy to navigate, Nick. 80 runs east/west, 395 runs north/south, and McCarren circles the city.” He stole a glance at his passenger, who was still looking out the window. “You drive, do tell?” “I do,” said Nick and explained about the Caddy. Presently, they turned off onto a side street or three and Cary stopped at the entrance to a housing development. “Gated community. This area is called Caughlin Ranch.” He informed his passenger, as he pushed a button and the gate slid back. The car drove through and down several curvy streets before arriving at the end of a cul-de-sac. Cary used the remote to open the gate to his home and drove into the garage, as the door opened and the sun began to peep over the horizon… So now, several hours later, he was ensconced in a 19th century bedroom with modern amenities and at a total loss for one of the few times in his long life. His stuff had been already hung up and put away before he had entered the house. He got up and picked out his outfit and headed for the private bath. The tub was an old fashioned claw handled one, and the sink was a pedestal, but the stall shower was very up to date, indeed, with its four showerheads. CHAPTER 3 Instinct told Nick that it was almost sundown. He yawned and stretched and looked around at the room where he slept. It was a large room, decorated in late Victorian. It was a little fussy for his taste, but the 4-poster bed was extremely comfortable. He arose from the bed and padded over to the heavy drapes and opened them. A blackout shade covered the window as well and Nick pulled it up. The sun was just dipping over the mountains in the background, lighting them up in a rainbow of hues. That, he thought, would be nice to paint. He sat in the window enclosure and thought about his week in Reno. Aristotle and Larry Merlin had taken care of all of the finer details of his emigration from Toronto to the US. There were a lot of forms to fill out and he had to update his passport. Arrangements were made for the sale of the loft and the storage of most of the items contained within. LaCroix was bemused by Nick’s sudden decision, but approved, in his LaCroxian way. He actually saw his “son” off at the airport. The flight was long—departing at 6:30pm EST and arriving in Minneapolis at 7:45pm CST. Then he had a layover of an hour and a half before departing and arriving in Reno at 10:51pm PST. All together, it was a flight of over 7 hours, and it was not cheap—costing over $1200. He found a hotel shuttle and it took him to his room downtown at the Eldorado. Though it was late, Nick decided to call the number on the card he had been given. He wasn’t really surprised when a chipper voice answered. “Good evening, S & G Enterprises. How may I help you today?” “Cary Shelley, please.” “Yes, sir. One moment, please.” A pause. “Sir, transferring call.” The phone rang and was picked up by someone, who transferred him to someone else, who handed him off to a third person. Nick was getting exasperated when a male voice came on the line. “Yes sir, Mr. Shelley is expecting your call.” “May I speak with him?” “I’m sorry, Mr. Knight, but Mr. Shelley is out of town on business. However, if you would leave your hotel and number, Mr. Shelley will contact you the moment he gets back.” “And when will that be?” “Not sure, sir. I do not handle Mr. Shelley’s travel arrangements. I am afraid that the one responsible for that is not working tonight. But I am sure Mr. Shelley will be back within the week.” A sigh. “Do you know where he went?” “No sir. Mr. Shelley’s travel plans are handled by another department.” Around and around it went for almost 20 minutes, then Nick hung up the phone. He was not in a good mood when he called the automated VIN service. After listening to a myriad of menu choices (at $5.00 a minute), he finally found a source for sustenance, and they delivered. So, for the next three days, Nick explored the city. It was a 24- hour town, for nothing seemed to close. He got into a poker tournament at the MGM, saw the Superstars show, watched the acts at Circus Circus, and generally toured. The atmosphere of the city was as the American’s would say, laid back and comfortable—a truly Western town. But there was another side: the Reno Gospel Mission and St. Vincent’s were all within walking distance of downtown. Nick saw more than one homeless woman and child while on his nightly walking tours. He also learned to spot them at the Copper Ledge in the CalNeva, counting the change for the tax on the .99 cent breakfast, sans drink. So the time passed, at least it wasn’t boring here. On Tuesday, he took the elevator up to the 20th floor and paused by his room. Someone, or something, was inside. He carefully swiped his key card and opened the door. There, sitting in a chair looking out the window was a figure. Nick (not really needing it, but out of habit) flicked on the light. The man in the chair smiled at him. He was drinking out of a water glass—human by the smell of it, and of a rather good vintage at that. The vampire had dark hair, hazel eyes and an average build. Nick could not tell his age, but sensed he was not very old at all. He was dressed immaculately in a charcoal gray Armani suit. Jeanette would like this one, Nick thought to himself. The man stood and approached Nick with his hand out, they stood about the same height. “Hi, sorry to knock you into a cocked hat. I’m Cary Shelley.” Nick took his hand and smiled at the quaint expression of surprise. “I got called off at the last moment on some business and had to leave rather suddenly. I do apologize for having you cool your heels.” The blond vampire shrugged. “Not a problem. I was out exploring.” “What do you think of it?” asked Cary, with a small smile. Nick considered. “Interesting place.” “So, it’s near daybreak. Ready to go?” said the other, going to the sink and rinsing out his glass. “Go? Go where?” “To check out. You do need to go house hunting, don’t you? And to get things settled, I was told of your plans. Plus all these folks will be coming up here around candle-light, and you don’t want people to suspicion, do tell.” All Cary got was a blank stare. “I do apologize for my slang, sometimes I forget myself,” he grinned. “It’s a failing.” Nick waved it off, and realized what he had said was true. Due to his hours, people would wonder. “And where do I stay?” he asked. “Well, since I put you out, you can stay at my place. I do have a few extra bedrooms, and it is the least I can do.” “Fine,” said Nick, finally. If it had to be, it had to be. “Let me pack…” “All done.” All done? Nick raised an eyebrow at that and a quick glance around the room told him it had been. That was cheeky. “They do have automated check out,” Cary said, helpfully and indicated the phone. What was going on here? Nick walked to the instrument and within minutes was checked out of the hotel. Out the door, down the elevator and through the lobby they walked, in silence. Cary handed the valet attendant a ticket and the man soon enough brought around a brand new Lexus sedan. “No flying?” asked Nick, as he entered the plush interior of the vehicle. “Too many people,” stated Cary in a very matter of fact voice. He drove carefully out onto Center Street and turned left at Fourth, then right onto Virginia. A sign indicated I-80 and he drove onto it going west. Several thoughts came to Nick at once, as he looked out the window. First, this was a vamp that had money and flaunted it. Second, the relaxed atmosphere extended to its undead citizens. Thirdly, who gave this guy the authority to decide that he needed to leave the hotel, and take his luggage? A sigh caused the driver to look at him. Though it was dark, Nick’s vampiric sight could make out the mountains up ahead. Cary spoke up, to break the uncomfortable silence. “So did you have a smooth flight?” he inquired. “I did, all the connections were on time, no turbulence. And you?” A sort of smile. “I own my own Lear, so my flights are always smooth.” If you got it and could get away with showing it, Nick mused. “Well, that’s certainly a different way of flying.” Cary laughed. “You could say that. I use mortal pilots, different ones for each flight so they never suspect. Humans are none too bright anyway, when it comes to us. And I had to fly to South America, which is a little far to fly myself.” He pulled off the highway and started south. “Reno is rather easy to navigate, Nick. 80 runs east/west, 395 runs north/south, and McCarren circles the city.” He stole a glance at his passenger, who was still looking out the window. “You drive, do tell?” “I do,” said Nick and explained about the Caddy. Presently, they turned off onto a side street or three and Cary stopped at the entrance to a housing development. “Gated community. This area is called Caughlin Ranch.” He informed his passenger, as he pushed a button and the gate slid back. The car drove through and down several curvy streets before arriving at the end of a cul-de-sac. Cary used the remote to open the gate to his home and drove into the garage, as the door opened and the sun began to peep over the horizon… So now, several hours later, he was ensconced in a 19th century bedroom with modern amenities and at a total loss for one of the few times in his long life. His stuff had been already hung up and put away before he had entered the house. He got up and picked out his outfit and headed for the private bath. The tub was an old fashioned claw handled one, and the sink was a pedestal, but the stall shower was very up to date, indeed, with its four showerheads. Soon, Nick was dressed and ready—for what? He glanced at the time on the nightstand—6:38 p.m. Still at a bit of a loss, he exited the room into the upper hallway. He looked over the balcony to the foyer below, wondering. Then he heard the noise. It sounded like growling, but not of a vampire kind. What was going on? What had he gotten himself into? Was this why LaCroix was so amused. Come to think of it, Aristotle was a little shocked also, when Nick had told him where he was relocating. Undecided for a moment, Nick walked up to the room at the end of the hall—the master suite. He gingerly opened the door and his mouth dropped onto the floor in shock. Soon, Nick was dressed and ready—for what? He glanced at the time on the nightstand—6:38 p.m. Still at a bit of a loss, he exited the room into the upper hallway. He looked over the balcony to the foyer below, wondering. Then he heard the noise. It sounded like growling, but not of a vampire kind. What was going on? What had he gotten himself into? Was this why LaCroix was so amused. Come to think of it, Aristotle was a little shocked also, when Nick had told him where he was relocating. Undecided for a moment, Nick walked up to the room at the end of the hall—the master suite. He gingerly opened the door and his mouth dropped onto the floor in shock. CHAPTER 4 Now, it was a known fact in the lore of the Undead that corpses and animals did not get along—Dracula fiction and “children of the night” aside. Sidney, Nat’s cat, never did warm up to Nick and he never had any real success with any other animal. So imagine his surprise to walk down the hall and into Cary’s bedroom and see him playing tug-of- war with a large dog. On the bed, in gray flannel pajamas, Cary was pulling on one end of a rope and the German Shepherd was on the other end. Nick’s mouth fell open. Cary glanced up, with a sheepish grin, and let go of the rope. The dog took this as a sign of success and moved toward the foot of the bed to chew on its trophy. “I’ve had her since she was three weeks old,” said the dark vampire, as a way of explanation. He got out of the bed and pulled on an old- fashioned Banyan. It was a calico morning gown with flared skirts, rather popular a century ago, but not worn since then. Once again, Cary managed to date himself. “She also watches the house while I’m out, and I’ve trained her to keep watch on the maid.” He slipped into a matching pair of bed shoes, and yawned. “I am, to acknowledge the corn, a rather late riser. But, never mind that, we need to find you a place to stay, and also for your—center, shall we say?” With that, he led the way out of the room and around the corner and down the wide staircase. This led into an octagon-shaped room and into a rather large room. It had red carpet on the floor and gray print wallpaper. The room was chock full of John Belter furniture—elaborate chairs, both a piano and pianoforte, two large fireplaces—Nick had not seen such a room since, maybe, Gone With the Wind. “Have a seat and I’ll get breakfast.” Nick sat in one of the velour chairs with the rosewood scrollwork. It was not to his taste and not a room you could be very comfortable in. Cary came back carrying two glasses and a newspaper. He gave one to Nick, who sniffed at it. It wasn’t exactly blood--. “Plasma. Perfect early evening drink, sort of like a human’s fruit juice.” “No, thanks,” said Nick, putting the glass down. Plasma, still human. Cary looked at him quizzically. “You know, Nick, plasma is donated nowadays. If you’re really serious about this homeless thing, you’ll learn that a lot of people down on their luck donate plasma for money—willingly. Taste it, you’ll see.” With another sigh, Nick picked up the glass of orangy liquid. He took a sip and had to admit it had a sort of fruity, sweet taste. He also picked up the donor, a single mother who had to get diapers for her baby and so she made the trip to the center to donate a pint. He supposed if he had to drink human, at least it was volunteered human. “See, told you. I wouldn’t have given you regular, a good host knows their guests habits.” Nick shook his head. This guy seemed to know an awful lot about him. Cary took out the classified section and opened it to real estate. “Lots of warehouses here. But I’ll presume you want something close in, so people could get to it, right?” That did it. “How do you know I need a warehouse? Or about the center? Or about the blood?” demanded the former detective. A shrug. “The vampire community is not large, Nick. When a big bug such as yourself, with your age and money, decides to absquatulate, usually the leader of the community where he goes is notified. So, Aristotle notified me. Well, technically, he notified Andy, who told me.” “So Andy is the leader of the community here?” “No, I’m the biggest toad in the puddle. Yes I know, “ he answered to a curious look, “I’m too young to have the position, someone not born in the woods to be scared by an owl should have it. I’ve heard it all, do tell. But that’s a lot of bunkum. I am part of a codfish aristocracy, I’m death on diplomacy, and I ask no odds of anybody. Plus I was appointed by the Council, and they did have their reasons.” A smile from Nick, and a question. “When were you brought across? Eighteen hundred and what?” “My slang again, huh? As I’ve said, and you might have surmised, I’m not very old.” Cary said this with a bit of petulance, as if used to people saying things about it. “1897.” That took the other aback. He suspected from his speech, Cary was not old, but just over a century? Usually the oldest vampire in the community would be the leader; hence LaCroix led the community in Toronto. So the undead in Reno must be awful young, or Cary must be awful ruthless. “So,” said he, clearing his throat, “anything good in the paper?” Cary grinned glad for the change in conversation. He was used to having to explain himself but it did get tiring. “Yep. Here’s one at 200,000 square feet, off Mill Street. That should be big enough.” Nick nodded. “I’ve been doing some research on this. Most homeless woman are that way because they cannot find resources like child care, so they have to take minimum wage jobs to survive and that will not support them to find a flat.” “So, you want not only shelter, but an entire program? Daycare, work programs, et cetra?” “I do. That way we can make these woman self-sufficient.” “Makes sense.” A thought. “So, will you live on property, or would you need a house?” “Since I can only help at certain hours, I think living on site would work.” “No doubt,” said Cary, dryly. “And only women and children?” “Yes. Maybe if there’s a need, single fathers and children or families.” “Well, with no religious affiliation, this should be easy to get past the City Council, who has to approve the zoning and permits.” That thought had not occurred to Nick. Cary looked amused. “Don’t worry. I know someone on the council who could get it pushed through. It’s just that most of the shelters in town are affiliated with some kind of church. That makes it harder to get things approved, as the government does not want to give money to such groups. But you’re going have an easy time at this, I reckon.” “Are you always so helpful to vampires trying to make mortal lives easier?” “Let’s just say that I think that a shelter for woman and children is a great idea and leave it at that, alright? And no, usually I do not want to make their lives any simpler then they have it.” The rest of the evening was spent looking over the ads trying to come up with a good location. Cary, once you got through the reserve and the 19th century phrases, proved to be an agreeable host. Later, when Nick popped open a bottle of his favorite bovine vintage, Cary just blinked and said nothing, which was tactful. Around 3 in the morning, Nick got the grand tour of the house. What Cary called the keeping room (actually just a large family room), led through the circular sitting room into a formal front parlor, or living room. Through the foyer and past the front staircase was the library. Up the stairs, were four very large bedrooms, all with tremendous canopied beds and walls in print wallpaper. Cary’s room had a unique feature: tucked away behind a door that Nick figured was a closet, was a staircase leading to a turret, a perfect landing and taking off place. Plus the front bedrooms led to a covered balcony which ran across the front of the house, another place which facilitated flying. A high brick wall that from the second floor gave a view of the city below surrounded the backyard. It also gave a nice cover for any special vampiric abilities. There were no flowers, for the yard was xeroscaped for the high desert environment. The back staircase led to the kitchen and a rear parlor off of this and then back again into the keeping room. In all, it was a home that fitted vampires very nicely, no one would ever suspect that a supernatural creature lived here. Soon enough, rosy fingered dawn came over the mountains to the east and that meant bed. Cary joked that he could never stay up past 7am. The next night, they went to dinner at one of Reno’s better restaurants with a woman named Toni Ivey—the City Council member Cary knew. She was tall with raven colored hair and blue eyes, and was human. Nick never was one for such schmoozing, but Cary was very good at it. He used his devastating good looks along with all of his vampire seductive qualities to get this unsuspecting lady to plead Nick’s case before the next meeting the next night. Nick attended this and made a good case, especially when they it was a purely secular venture. So, without any public debate he got his permits. The next step was finding a place. The building first mentioned by Cary turned out to be the best. It was a long building with office space and warehousing. The warehouse would be turned into the sleeping area, some of the offices would be the daycare, and the rest would be for other projects. Plus there was a grassy area that could be fenced in and made into a child’s playground. Nick met with the people from Project Restart and they seemed grateful for his help. All the rest of the week was spent going over blueprints. His living quarters would be on the second floor, over the sleeping quarters, since they would be empty during the day. It was big enough for all his things and he even managed an inner office away from any windows. He still stayed at Cary’s house, as it would take about a month to get everything habitable for anything at all. Speaking of Cary, Nick found out he owed the company S & G Enterprises. What they did there was still a mystery, but they had a nice office around the Longley Lane/Peckham Road area, only open nights, or second and third shift as they called it here in Reno. He worked from 8pm until 5am, vampire banker hours. They also got along famously for Cary was hard to rattle and nonjudgmental. Nick’s longevity and what he had seen and done fascinated him, in turn. As an Eastern City dweller when he lived, Cary was enthralled by Nick’s adventures around the world during the late 1800’s, especially during the Civil War. By Friday of the next week, Nick needed some R&R from his plans. Everything was going smoothly, but he needed some excitement like he had gotten from police work. He thought wryly that he would not want to be a homicide detective in Reno, there was no real crime. Break- ins, car theft and other larceny went on, but not a lot of murder and mayhem. So he was amiable to Cary’s suggestion of going out on the town. Where they actually went was a club called Bloodlines. Not for reasons Nick first thought, but named for the horses on the walls. It was a dance club, like The Raven, but not as Goth. It was sort of a vampire version of a yuppie bar, with a strict door policy. Cary had told him to dress and he was glad he had. The bouncer knew Cary and treated him with a kind of awed respect. Nick supposed that came from the fact that the dark vamp was the leader of the pack. Led by a door hostess to a table, they sat. A cocktail waitress came up. Cary ordered for them both, telling Nick for the time being to just drink regular until they knew him. Not liking it, Nick agreed. A bottle was soon set down and the bloodwine was poured. The vintage was excellent, the blood expertly cut with Bordeaux. They sat there watching the dancers when Nick noticed a slinky redhead and a blonde approach from behind Cary. A low, almost unnoticed growl in the elder vampire’s throat alerted Cary to their presence. The redhead put both arms around Cary’s neck and turned his head towards her for a kiss. Her friend sat next to Nick with a smile. Cary turned back. “Nick Knight, Jill Collins,” he introduced the redhead. “And that’s Sonya Modell, our southern belle.” Jill took a seat next to Cary, still hanging on and laying kisses all over his neck. He untangled himself from her arms. “When’d you get back?” he asked her. “Yesterday. Don’t you pick up messages anymore?” she pouted, as another vampire came up to the table. “Cary!” greeted the short Latin woman. He got up and kissed the other on the cheek. “Maria, how have you been?” “We just got back from New York, what a hassle.” She looked around. “Paul? Where did he go?” A heavyset vampire came up, carrying a bottle. “Ty’s newest,” he explained to the group, as he held out a chair for the Latina and then sat. “Nick, meet Maria Ruiz and Paul Silasi. Paul, Nick was in Italy for the Renaissance.” “Were you?” A moment of silence, as if he was trying to place Nick. Then a glimmer of recognition. “One of LaCroix’s? I think we may have met.” Nick admitted to that. Soon others came up until there were at least 20 bloodsuckers at the table, including Tyler Peery who owned Sangster Winery, maker of fine bloodwine since the early 1800’s. Nick knew of Sangster Wines, they were sold at The Raven. Only two others made an impression on Nick. One was Alexi Borisnovo, who Nick didn’t quite trust, for some reason. When asked what he did, he told Nick with a cold smile that he solved problems, but was not an Enforcer. The next vampire was an Enforcer. This was Colin—pronounced Nick was informed as Cole-in, like the appendage in the body. Three archetypal vamps of Colin’s type—Sylvester, Josiah, and Trent, trailed him. Also a female Enforcer named Peg Hannlin, who spoke in a broad Scotch accent. Used to silent types such as the trio, Nick was stunned by Colin and Peg. Colin was charismatic, in his way and Peg was just loud. Then over came another female vamp whose eyes alighted upon Nick and made a beeline for him. She pushed Paul, who was sitting next to him, out of his chair. This caused the other to grumble and to grab another seat from the next table over. Cary, in conversation with Alexi and Colin, looked over. “Ah, I knew it,” he said with a broad smile. “Nick Knight, Esme Ruto.” CHAPTER 5 “Enchante, Monsieur. You must be Nick,” said she, in a slight French accent. “I’ve heard you described.” “Enchante de faire votre connaissance,” replied Nick, kissing her hand. “Merci.” “I knew you’d two get along,” smiled Cary. Nick would have blushed if he could. “So, do you like it here?” asked she, with a tone that implied that the question could be applied to Reno, Bloodlines or both. “Thus far,” Nick answered, noncommittally. “Bon. Ou, logez-vous?” still in French. Then in English, “Where are you staying?” “With Cary.” The blonde vampress raised her eyebrows at this and looked toward Cary, who shrugged. “His house is being built, Esme. Would you rather he stay in a hotel?” “C’est vrai,” she admitted. “That’s true.” She turned her attention back to Nick. “I hope he’s being hospitable.” “He is,” said Nick, in a cautious tone. What was going on here? “So, qu’est-ce que vous faites dans la vie?” asked he, changing the subject. “I own VamCom. It’s a vampire online security firm,” she said, to his puzzled look. “You have computer problems, identity problems—you come to us, vous comprenez. Reno requires police cards for any money or liquor handling, they check with the FBI and other government agencies. That could possibly be a risky problem and we do operate sans tamboures ni trompettes.” “Like Larry Merlin.” “Oui, the Bill Gates of vampire computer programmers,” Esme acknowledged. “He’s the best there is, and helped us with le commerce. He deals mainly in Canada and the East Coast. My firm does things mainly for the West Coast. We also deal somewhat with the Asian community. And how is your little venture coming along? Ca y est?” Since Nick needed certain legal documents, it only made sense that she knew about his plans. He told her about the building and the way that he was trying to work with the various service agencies in town. There was a definite need for a shelter, for a place to stay for the homeless. Esme nodded in agreement. “It is needed, Nick. I just wish we had something like that when I was younger, that you could run to when everything was destroyed,” she said, wistfully. “That’s why the Community is not against you building this thing.” Glad to have another sympathetic ear, Nick outlined all his plans. Esme readily agreed to help, and even volunteered to buy computers for the center. After all, she pointed out, with the new millennium coming, everyone really needed to know how to run one. “And if you are nice to me, mignon, I will even get someone to teach a class, d’accord?” “Avec plaisir,” smiled Nick. The reverie was broken by Paul, who leaned over to Nick and started asking him how Aristotle was. That started them telling stories about the different vampires they knew. Esme even knew a few—for instance, she knew Janette. They met it seemed during the French Revolution. Somehow that did not come as much of a surprise to Nick. The music changed and varied couples started getting up to dance. Esme looked at him and he knew what was coming. Sure enough, it came. “Voulez-vous danser?” she asked, coyly. Looking around, Nick saw everyone had gotten up to either visit someone else or to dance. He shrugged and resigned himself to this. He rose, helped Esme from her chair like a good noble, and they soon found themselves on the dance floor. The music was from the 1940’s—big band. Nick never considered himself much of a dancer, but dancing was perhaps beside the point. Esme pulled in tight and he tensed a little. Too soon after Nat, too soon after Janette. Esme looked up at him; she was shorter than the coroner was, but taller than the other was. Unlike them, but like most of the women he had dated in the past eight centuries, she had blonde hair. Like them, she also had sapphire blue eyes. In a way, she reminded him a lot of Janette, less the seductress maybe, but they were strikingly similar. His partner interrupted his thoughts by asking about life in Toronto. He told her about the loft, The Raven, highlights of his job. The good things, not about anything recent. She asked after LaCroix. “Do you know LaCroix as well?” he asked, incredulously. “The vampire world is not a big place, Nick. If you’re around long enough, and active enough in the Community, you usually meet everyone at one time or another, n’est-ce pas. Also, LaCroix is very old. Anyone over 2000 years is bound to be known, if just for that.” Nick looked off into space. “Let’s not talk about him, entendu?” He was surprised how easily he lapsed into French with her. He had not done that often with Janette, though she did it often with him. Presently the music changed over into something that might be played by The Raven’s new management. He begged off the floor and led her back to the table. It was then that he noticed that everyone was making his or her good-byes. Paul clapped him on the shoulder. “Ring me up if you want to talk and Cary’s in a mood,” he said, gently. He took the arm of his ‘wife’ Maria, as he called her, and left. “Hey, I’ve got a great deal on your variation. Call me and let me know, Cary’s got the number. It’s becoming more popular nowadays. Some of the new breed do not like to kill anything at all!” This from Tyler Peery of Sangster Wineries. “Have fun, sugar. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. Or not,” laughed Sonya, with an air kiss to his cheek. “Have Cary explain the rules if he hasn’t already done so,” the Enforcer, Colin, told him. “I want a copy for my records.” “The rules?” asked Nick. “Yeah, rules. Signed and witnessed, thank you.” “I didn’t know there were written rules,” said Nick, wondering when the Community decided to do this. “Welcome to Reno, my friend. It’s a different world.” Colin held out his hand and Nick took it, the first time in his existence he had done that with an Enforcer. In fact, if you had told him just yesterday that he would be doing it, he would have scoffed. Different world, indeed. Cary came up, Jill on his arm. “Ready to go?” he asked. Nick looked at Esme, should he or shouldn’t he? Well, why not? A little female companionship might be just what he needed. He held a hand out to her and she gave a slow smile as she took it. Jill giggled, earning her a jab in the ribs from her date. They exited the club and the valet brought around Cary’s car. The Caddy had just arrived and Nick had not yet had a chance to register it. Esme it seemed flew in, earning her a hard look from the Community leader and a hiss from her back at him. Jill had rode with Sonya and another vampire friend, Allison. “So the night is still young,” Jill practically sang out. “Where to now?” No one had any real suggestions, so Jill suggested bowling. Friendly enforcers, all right. Signed rules and jobs for this rather preppy, affluent Community, ok. Dancing and hanging out in a nightclub, fine. But bowling? Nick’s mouth dropped. It was no wonder every vamp in Canada had grinned when he told them about his destination. He could not even imagine LaCroix, Aristotle, Larry, Janette, Alma, or even Vachon (well, maybe Vachon) bowling. Vampires did not bowl—or at least not till now. Still stunned with the very suggestion of this very Schanke-like outing, Nick soon found himself at the Reno Hilton, which had 24-hour lanes. They received their shoes and found some of the heavier balls. It was nearly deserted, so no one thought twice about a 110- pound woman like Jill hefting a 20-pound ball. Nick had bowled once in his life, good old Donny had badgered him into it. Of course, he used to play bowls during the Renaissance, but that was not like this. They decided to play men versus woman. Jill turned out to be an excellent bowler, maybe that was why she suggested it. Esme was middling, with every throw she examined her manicure. Cary was not bad, but he probably did this a lot with the redhead now on the lane and lining up her spare, which she made. Nick decided that he did not fare too badly, considering. The girls won anyway, and Jill was not shy about letting the two males know it, as they got into the car once more. Nick decided that he liked this upbeat vampire. She had certain flair to her. It surprised Nick not one iota when she told him she was brought across in 1930 and had been a real ‘jazz-baby’ before then. She looked as if she would be at home in a cloche dress and a roadster with a flask of gin by her side and a boyfriend who owned a juice-joint. In fact, that was how she described herself to him, using 20’s slang just as easy as Cary used Victoriana. Esme peppered her speech with French words and phrases, again reminding Nick painfully of Janette, or Erica, or even Alyssa (though she was Austrian). The one person she did not remind him of was Natalie Lambert—in no way, shape, or form. Since it was still early by their standards, only about 1am, Jill suggested they pick up a couple of movies to pop into the VCR. Nick found out then the difference between his former home and his new one—you could find a video rental store open this late. The foursome earned looks from the patrons of the store. Nick wondered briefly what they looked like to mortal eyes—2 very handsome men and 2 very beautiful women. Then he sort of snorted at his own vanity, though it was true. Jill led the way to the Classic aisle and found The Blue Dahlia with Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake. Esme picked out Marie Antoinette with Norma Shearer and Tyrone Power. Cary passed on everything, though he stopped at Martin Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence, with Michelle Phifer and Daniel Day-Lewis. He just sort of sighed and went on. Nick didn’t pick out anything at all. Interview With the Vampire made him pause a moment and think about Emily Weiss. Soon they were back in the car discussing movies. Jill declared that she loved Alan Ladd and anything with him in it, even Nevada Smith. She made the suggestion to Esme that if she fixed her hair differently; she could have that Lake look. “C’est con, impossible to do any work with,” huffed up Esme, glancing at herself in Cary’s rearview mirror and holding a hand to her hair. “You do remember, l’ami, that during World War 2, the government made her pull her hair back.” “Oh, banana oil! What do I care about what the government did?” exclaimed Jill. “I think that the hairstyle’s the cat’s meow, and you are being a wowser.” “By the horn spoons, stop. This is becoming a picayune conversation. Esme, she was just making a comment. And Jill, some folks are interested in mortal doings.” That quieted everyone down and Nick blinked once or twice. Three different ways of speaking from three very different era’s. This was going to be an interesting rest of the night. CHAPTER 6 “He is a real sheik,” this was Jill speaking of Alan Ladd. She sat with her feet up on the Chippendale divan, in Cary’s lap with her head against his chest and his arms around her. She sounded and looked very content, as if there was not anywhere else she would rather be. Jill had kicked off her heels and her legs looked very long to Nick, who hadn’t seen such intimacy in a while. Nick himself sat on the matching camelback loveseat with Esme next to him. He had taken off his blazer and it was hung over the arm of the seat. They were watching the movie in the Library—really the dining room. However, as Cary told Nick, he did not need one, so he converted it. All around were tall, built in bookcases. One of the bookcases had some panel doors, and behind this was the entertainment center—television, VCR, surround sound system—the works. “Just look how Veronica Lake looks at him, like he’s lunch or something,” she continued and sighed. This movie was new to Nick, though it appealed to the detective in him. It was the first original Raymond Chandler penned for the screen and took many twists and turns. It concerned Johnny, the Alan Ladd character, who comes home from WW2 and finds his wife, Helen, has turned into a party girl. After a disturbing revelation about their late son, Johnny leaves and gets picked up literally by Joyce, the Veronica Lake character. Helen soon is shot, but by whom? Nick enjoyed the flick, a perfect example of film noir. Jill’s chatter shattered enjoyment of the movie somewhat though. She had lived in Hollywood during the 1940’s and knew a few of the stars. Cary kept telling her to hush, in a very soft way, punctuating each occasion with a kiss. These grew in ardor as the movie progressed, so Nick presumed that Jill had a reason in her mind to keep talking. However, he could not stop feeling he was on strange double date where one pair got along, and the other just sat. By the end of the movie, the dark haired vamp and his red headed date were completely enthralled in each other, not even noticing or even caring about the other couple in the room. They broke out of it, somewhat, when Esme cleared her throat. Nick could see the slight gold flecks in Cary’s hazel eyes. Breaking off a vampire in the midst of passion could be very deadly to human and non-human alike. After all, vampires lived by seduction—their whole manner and being revolved around it. It was why human victims were so readily found, why they were so mesmerized by them. “There is a time and a place, tu trouves pas? Do you not think?” she inquired. “You are a wowser, Esme,” shot back Jill. “However, you are correct.” She pulled her date to his feet. “A ce soir, and have fun.” She giggled at that and Cary gave her a very disapproving look. She replied to this with a kiss and they walked out. Soon a door was heard closing and then came a couple of barks, a whine, and a growl. Esme laughed at the sound. Nick stared at her, as she took the rewound movie out of the machine and popped in the other. “Jealous dog Cary has, n’est-ce pas?” Nick had to laugh at this, and realized that it had been a while since he really laughed. Esme came to sit back down and, with the remote, fast-forwarded through the ads and stopped when she saw the black and white MGM lion. “I would figure Jill liked Ty Power,” remarked he. “Bien sur, however, she likes Cary better.” Another small laugh from Nick. “I’ve noticed.” He looked at her curiously. “And you?” “Like Cary? Romantically? Mon dieu, mignon, I don’t even know if I like him as a vampire. Besides, cher, he is too beautiful, no?” “Unlike myself,” cracked Nick, putting an arm around her and surprising himself by doing so. She thought a minute. “No, cher,” she said, stroking his cheek, “you are handsome. Cary is pretty, and vain. Besides, Helena would keep me away if I even was so inclined.” On screen, Norma Shearer as Marie Antoinette was just arriving in Paris. They watched a while. “She did a good job, but was way to old to play this part. After all, Marie was just 15 when she came to Versailles, and just 19 when she became queen.” Nick agreed. “Robert Morley, however, does capture the essence of Louie.” “Oui, he does. I always felt so sorry for him, and for her. What fun days, before the Revolution, and the styles created by Rose Bertin! All the fringe ruffles, lace, and tassels. Oh la la—the headdresses! All that flour and paste! Mon dieu! It is a good thing vampires do not get lice!” That got a laugh from the other, a real chuckle. They watched some more of the movie and Nick noticed that the grandfather clock read nearly 5:30, almost dawn. He felt the slight scrape of teeth and something moist on his neck, just above the collarbone. He sort of turned and was greeted with a very soft kiss to his lips. Nick responded to this for a moment, then pulled away. Esme looked at him wide-eyed. “Mon cher, did I do something wrong?” she asked, in a hurt voice. He looked away and sighed. “No, it’s not you. It’s me.” She considered this and gave him a comforting smile. Nick noticed her perfume—some sort of oriental scent of jasmine and spice. “How so, mignon?” she asked him, softly. Another sigh. “It has been a while since I’ve been with another woman,” he told her, honestly, to her raised eyebrows. “But, cher, with your charm and your looks, how could…I mean, it’s just not in our nature.” Nick got upset at that. Esme gave another soothing smile and ran a hand through his hair. “Cher, tell me. I can see something bothers you, no?” “Oui,” affirmed he. Esme pulled her legs up and put her arms around them, shut off the television, and gave a decidedly French gesture for him to go on. But could he? How could he explain about what happened the last time he was with a woman? Kissed one? That had been Nat, and look what happened to her. Of course, he reasoned, there was a bit of a difference—his partaking of any blood would not harm Esme. But the very memory of that night and the aftermath still haunted him. Could this undead beauty understand the love he felt for a mere mortal? The hell with it, he thought. If it ruined the night, so be it—que sera sera. “I was in love with a human back in Toronto, a very gentle but strong woman. She was trying to help me. Then a friend of hers committed suicide, and I thought I lost a friend as well, my human partner on the force. So one day she comes to me and asks me to bring her across. What could I say?” He rose from the settee and walked toward the wall, leaning on it. “I tried to discourage her, but my heart was not really in it. So, I took her, and as LaCroix would say, I took too much. She almost…died. And that was that.” He turned to face her. “I left Toronto and came here, to find myself I suppose.” Esme was very quiet and sat staring at him for quite some time. The grandfather clock chimed 6:30; the day was upon them. No light came through the heavy drapes on the window, though. Then she rose from her place and came to him, putting her arms around him and kissing him deeply. “I understand, non cher. Mortals have their own power over us that is why we try to avoid them. This woman, is she well?” “She’s alive, and a resister.” “I too was once in love with a mortal,” admitted Esme, speaking now in French, as if English could not convey the story. “His name was Jacques. However, the temptation proved too much. I was just a fledgling then, and could not stop the thirst, so he did not survive the encounter. But I went on, as my maker told me to do. And so must you, you’ll never be happy or whole until you move on. Remember her in your most cherished memories, mignon, but do not let them overwhelm you. You are strong, you have immortality—you too will survive. You hide too much inside, let the feelings out, let them guide who you are, what you want.” Nick was silent, wondering at her words. For a moment he stood there, arms at his sides. Then he put them around her and kissed her, softly at first and then with more passion. Esme responded in kind. He gallantly picked her up and made his way to the stairs and then up and into his room. The dog was lying at Cary’s closed door, looking very sad as only dogs can. Nick put Esme down when they reached his door at the end of the hallway. “Are you sure of this, mignon. I do not wish too push you too fast. You need time to heal, perhaps?” “I do, Esme. And the healing begins here,” he asserted, closing the door. “Do you think you can cure the wounds?” She gave him a long, slow, seductive smile, kicking off her shoes and undoing the clasp at the back of her dress. “Cure, cher? That I do not know,” she stated, stepping out of it. She grabbed his tie and led him over to the bed. “Ease, oui. Most definitely." CHAPTER 7 Esme turned in Nick’s arms and glanced at the clock on the nightstand—9 am. She looked up at him and reached out to brush a stray blond lock from his face. “She must have been extraordinary, non?” “Who?” asked a rather drowsy Nick, fluffing up his pillows. “Natalie, your doctor friend. I saw it in your blood, cher. It must have been difficult to leave her.” A sigh from Nick, who came to the realization that he sighed a lot. “It was, but it had to be done. As you alluded to, Esme, mortals who love vampires usually wind up dead or a member of our club.” “Umm,” agreed she. “One more factor, cher. The Enforcers—the Code will be obeyed. Do they know of your Natalie?” Nick nodded. “They do. Nat made herself a friend to the Community during the fever scare we had. It killed off quite a few of our kind up there and she discovered the cause and the antidote. For that reason, she’s given a pass.” “As I said, mignon,” concurred Esme, “an extraordinary woman.” A thought came to Nick suddenly. “Speaking of Enforcers, Colin said something about rules and signing. Is this true?” Laughter from Esme, who kissed his neck. “Oui. A Cary Shelley Idea.” This said with a bit of sarcasm. “There is this organization of vampires in New York, human for the most part. Anyway, Cary attended a coven house meeting there on one of his infamous whims. They had a list of rules they gave new members and this impressed him, so when he become leader here, he adopted them.” Nick took note of the fact that whenever Esme made a long speech, she lapsed into French. The sound of his native language sounded strangely soothing to his ears. “So you actually have to do paperwork?” he prodded, remembering how much he disliked it. She nodded. “A contract, if you will. They bring out that pen that pricks your finger; they draw blood into the cartridge, and you sign you name with that. According to Colin, and I have no cause to doubt him, this binds you to the Community and all the regulations therein.” “So you sign in actual blood?” asked an incredulous Nick, and she nodded once again. He shook his head, what had he walked into? “And if you don’t sign?” Esme opened her cerulean eyes very wide. “They kill you.” She sighed and drew his head down to kiss him, as if to banish any bad thoughts. “And it is not a pleasant death, either. You are made an example to the Community of what happens to rogues. Trust me, mignon, it is better to sign, and it’s not that terrible.” She was silent a moment, then—“Nick?” “Yes,” he answered, playing with a strand of her pale hair. She pulled away from him and sat straight up. He put his hand in back of his head and smiled at her, watching her long hair play around her face. She was alluring as only a vampire could be, but she was not smiling. “This is very serious, mignon. Do not ever tell Cary about your love for a mortal. If you do relate the tale, do not let him know she lives. In Cary’s eyes, that is a capital offense—it breaks the first rule of the Code. And do believe me when I tell you, friendship aside, he will let Colin know and then God help your Natalie.” “But—“ “Nick, the Enforcers in Toronto will confer with the Enforcers here in Nevada and they will not spare her—no matter what her relationship with the Community. Colin is very inflexible in this matter; he will give no quarter. Worse, Cary and he could decide to give the case to Alexi, in which case even LaCroix couldn’t save her. So please, for your sake and hers, mon cour—never breathe a word that you and she were lovers. Friends, tolerable. Lovers, no.” Nick lay there quietly for a moment. His thoughts moved back on several remarks he heard Cary make in passing. If what Esme said was correct, he would need to tread lightly until he was sure of his footing. All of a sudden, he needed a drink. Pushing aside the covers, he reached for his pajama bottoms and slid on his slippers. Esme watched him curiously as he put his robe on and tied it around him. “Cher, are you alright?” “I’m thirsty.” To which she pulled her hair seductively away from her neck in offer. “No, I need something stronger, perhaps.” “Cary does have some curare down there.” Nick chuckled at that. “I’m not that thirsty.” He leaned over the bed and kissed her lingeringly. She gave him an intense look when he pulled back. “I’ll be right back, would you like anything?” he asked, solicitously. She shook her head and Nick walked out of the room and down the back stairs to the kitchen. Cary’s kitchen was a vampire’s kitchen. It shone, as no cooking was ever done there. Glasses hung upside down above the center island, reminding Nick again of The Raven, but there was no food, no plates, no silverware, no pots and pans. A bombe desk stood where the stove should have been. There a huge refrigerator, as well as an individual freezer. Past some glass shelving, which held a set of unused china, was the pantry. This was temperature sensitive and held nothing but bottles of blood, wine, liquor, liqueur and combinations of the four. From floor to 15 foot ceiling on two sides, it was stocked full. Nick opened the refrigerator door and took out one of his bottles, then went into said pantry and got a bottle of wine—regular red wine. He mixed the wine and the blood in a carafe he found in a cabinet and took a glass down from the overhead rack. He then went into the back parlor and stretched out on the Empire sofa. It was then that he noticed the presence of another in the room. He turned and saw Jill standing at the piano, staring at him. She padded over to him and sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the parlor. “Can’t sleep?” she inquired. “Just thinking. How about you?” “I got hungry,” she said, indicating her glass. “Cary literally sleeps like the dead during the day, totally immobile. So I usually eat something at this time of day.” Nick had to grin at that—fledglings. He decided to seek out her opinion on the living, and asked her straight out. Her answer surprised him. “I love them. I love their strengths, their foibles. They are very ham-and-egger. I love to eavesdrop on them when they don’t know and listen to their petty problems. In fact, I don’t even kill them right away during the hunt. I stay and jaw with them awhile, asking all about them and their lives. But since I usually feed on the dregs, the stories sometimes make no sense.” “The hunt? I thought hunting was not allowed?” Jill got a bit of a giggle out of that. “Technically, it’s not. However, you can get a license to hunt. As long as you follow the rules and pay the fees, you can in a limited capacity.” Nick started at that. Licenses, fees, contracts—this was what modern vampirism had come to. “More Cary ideas?” he asked, cautiously. “You’ve been talking with Esme,” she tittered. “Yes, I’m afraid my darling is a bit of a control freak.” She took a sip of her drink. “So, how was the movie?” “Fine.” “Where is Esme?” asked Jill, coyly. “Sleeping, by now,” he answered to Jill’s delight. “Good! Esme needs someone nice,” she said, to Nick’s surprise. “I thought you didn’t like Esme?” “Gosh, no. Truthfully, she’s a bit of a blue nose, but I still want to see her settled with some keen guy instead of the cake-eaters she usually goes with.” She giggled. “And you seen nice enough, not really an egg.” Nick smiled at the compliment under the slang. Lucky for him he lived during this decade, and during Esme’s, and during Cary’s. “So, does Cary consider you middle aisle material, or is it just for fun?” That got a real chuckle out of her. “I swear Nick, you just slay me! Just when I was thinking you were a real wet blanket, you come out with that!” She wiped the blood tears out of her eyes. “I wish. You know, Paul and Maria got married—in some sort of pagan ceremony. But they are legal man and wife! Cary’s the Darb, but never in a kajillion years would he even consider a steady relationship.” Nick took a sip of his drink. It was almost gone now, and the wine was affecting him, which was what he wanted. Alcohol did that to vampires. They could not eat, but mixed in with the blood, they could take in liquor and wine without it—red only. White did not settle right. “Why?” He asked. “Cary seems to be a settled sort of creature. As for marriage, I was married once,” he thought of Alyssa. “Well, twice—sort of,” he thought of Janette. It was sort of a marriage, that century together, wasn’t it? Jill sighed, a long resigned sort of sound. “Simple. Helena.” That name again. Esme had said she would not want to deal with Helena, but why? He thought back and could not think of anyone he had met last night by that name. “Who’s Helena? Is she out of town?” A bitter laugh from the redheaded flapper. She rose from the rocker and crooked her finger at Nick, who followed her into the Keeping Room. The room was dark, naturally, and she turned on one of the lamps. She gestured to the pictures above the twin fireplaces. Oil paintings of the same women, in two scenes and poses, were above each. Nick noticed the flowers underneath them, fresh cut, in sort of a tribute. The woman was blonde with green eyes that looked as if they could pierce your soul, if you had one. Her hair was up on her head, Gibson Girl style in one, and long Rita Hayworth in the other. She seemed a preternaturally beautiful—white skin, rosebud lips—Nick felt himself react just by looking at the portraits. Jill looked at him sort of amused. She cocked her head to one side, as if used to seeing this sort of response. Then, it seemed to Nick later, she gave him kind of a warning. “Don’t let Cary see you act like that to her or he’ll rip your head off. But, in any case, that’s the infamous Helena.” CHAPTER 8 “The infamous Helena,” repeated Nick. He looked at Jill. “So who exactly is she? Someone Cary lost, perhaps?” Here he trailed off. “Lost? Not really, no. Helena is his maker,” stated Jill, simply. “And she left him.” “His maker” came the echo from him. “Why did she leave? And when?” “She left because she did not want to be tied down to anyone. She had never brought or even thought of bringing anyone across until him, and has never since. When she left is more difficult to say, for she comes back every once in a while. Usually when he has a problem. She can sense when he’s troubled or bothered with anything or anyone. Then she shows up and he’s lost to her, completely. He loves her—only her. Everyone else, he likes in varying degrees.” “So why would Esme say she would not want to deal with her?” “Because Esme is no dumb Dora. Helena tolerates me, for she knows that I would never cause any harm to him. But then again, I’ve been carrying a torch for him since I was human.” Nick puzzled this. Cary did not look the fathering type. Jill noticed the look and knew the question that was coming. “No, he did not bring me across. Our paths crossed in 1924 in a speak owned by a friend of mine. I did some part-time hoofing there; he came in—hunting. Very bold, Cary can be. I was to be dinner—but my boss interrupted before he could inflict the bite. But I never forgot him. Years later, I was looking through VM and lo and behold—there he was in a story about S & G Enterprises. I transferred to San Francisco, where he was living at the time and renewed acquaintances. So, maybe Helena considers me fated to be,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know. But Cary,” and here her voice took on that warning tone once more,” is very jealous of her. When I say he’ll rip your head off, I do mean that literally. He did that one time in Bloodlines to a young vampire that said something insulting about her. He was called before the Council on that one, but Helena once again intervened, and it all blew over.” “Why would the Council listen to her?” inquired Nick, swallowing. “Because, she is a child of Lilith, an original Limim. She was not made a vampire; she was born a vampire—to Lilith herself and the demon, Samael. Very ancient, very powerful—and I do believe that her blood has affected Cary’s disposition at times. She’s been known to do complete blood drains.” Blood drains. Nick involuntarily shivered. To do a blood drain meant that a vampire was just about sucked dry of blood and then was given blood back. It was not used often, as it was potentially dangerous. But it would account for some of Cary’s iciness, being brought across by a demoness. Another shiver from him and he drained his glass and then rose to pour another. He thought about what he knew about the origins of the vampire. Some said it happened in Egypt, others in Italy or India. According to some legends, Lilith was the first wife of Adam and she was cast out. Some say she was born at the same time as Adam and Eve, intertwined with her demon spouse. From them came the first vampires—succubae and incubi. Nick was silent; this was too much to contemplate. “If you’re really curious,” Jill continued, “Alexi has an extensive collection of our lore. He’ll be glad to show you.” “So,” Nick managed to swallow, “Cary was brought over by a succubus?” Jill blanched some, not easy for a vampire to do and finished her drink. “Never say that to either of them. Cary, I think, has a mental block against the thought of it. That I think was a present from Helena. I also think that his eternal devotion to her has something to do with her blood.” “How did they meet?” asked Nick, in a small voice, chilled to the bone. “He was supposed to be her meal. According to them both, she took one look at his face and couldn’t do it—she told me that she could not waste such beauty. So she took him in and basically held him hostage for about a month, very undecided about if she should kill him or not. Again, Cary would tell a different tale, but she would not let him leave. In the meanwhile, he fell hopelessly in love with her. Her feelings I do not even want to think about, Nick. But in any case, she made him what he is. Spoiled him by bringing him victims to kill and took general care of him. When she left, she left him a small fortune and introduced him to Paul, who made sure the fortune stayed intact.” “So did she break into his home or something to feast on him? What did his family say?” Jill broke into peals of nervous laughter. “You really don’t know anything about Cary at all, do you? He has never told you this story? Well, he did tell me this in bed, so maybe he has to be in the right frame of mind. He was living on the streets of the Five Point section of New York and was 22 years old. His mother had died in cholera when he was 10 and his siblings were dead of various causes. His father was in the Tombs for the rape and murder of Cary’s little sister. He had been living in an orphanage from the time he was 13 until he was 16, then turned out into the streets. He was also dying of what we would call today bronchial pneumonia. His doctor was an advocate of Benjamin Rush, so that meant blistering, purging, sweating, puking and bleeding. That in itself was fatal to him, so she sort of saved his life by bringing him across. I think that has a lot to do with it as well, as he sees her as an angel, not a demon.” She turned toward the fireplace, blood tears in her eyes. Then she turned to look at Nick. “Cary’s mortal life was a waste, that is why he is the vampire he is. That’s why he hates humans. His time in the orphanage turned him against religion as well, I don’t think the nuns and the lay brothers were so kind to him. So if he seems standoffish or cold at times, that’s why. I think demons pursued him even before Helena came onto the scene.” With that, she collapsed into a chair. Nick sat as well, holding her hand, comforting her. Her grief at her lovers’ problems was palpable. She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes. “I’m going to bed, I just want to hold him for a while.” And she was gone with a vampire’s speed. Nick leaned back and meditated on everything. Suddenly, he was not even tipsy anymore and dead tired all at once. He picked up his glass and put it in the sink, Cary being a stickler for cleanliness. He rinsed it and put the carafe in the refrigerator. Then he walked slowly up the back stairs, contemplating. Why had Gilda sent him here? To befriend a vampire that was brought over by a demon who predated time? Dear God, what would LaCroix say? Did he know? Nick opened the door to his room and looked at Esme sleeping there, her long flaxen hair making a pillow around her head. Natalie, why aren’t you here? He thought. I could really use you. He brushed all thoughts of her out of his mind as he took off his robe and slippers and climbed into the bed. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The ringing of his cell phone disturbed Nick’s rest. He looked at the clock and groaned—5:30. In vampire time, that was the early part of the morning. He sleepily reached for the instrument and said hello. “Hi, Nick Knight?” came a female voice. It sounded vaguely familiar. “Yeah, this is he,” he yawned. “Mr. Knight, this is Bethany Powers—you came to see me about CASA training?” Oh yeah, he had. CASA training was the guardian ad litem program for children in the court. It stood for Court Appointed Special Advocate and the volunteer workers stepped in when a child’s parents were going to court for abuse, jail, etc. They worked to find the children placement in permanent homes instead of being shuffled around the foster care system. Nick figured since he was going to be working with homeless women and children, some would definitely be from a neglect and abuse background so he decided to go through the training. He had been doing that for the past week, unbeknownst to anyone at all. “Yes, Mrs. Powers, I remember you.” “Bethany, please. And I have a favor to ask of you.” She paused and Nick waited. “A mother and her child were just found in Wingfield Park, the child was beaten as was the mother. They are afraid to go home and this being the weekend; the shelters are all full. I tell you, you are a lifesaver with your program. Anyway, I know you don’t have any kids and that you’re not married, so I wonder if you can take them in until Monday, when we can get them into a program out of town. The father is really twisted.” Nick felt an urge to laugh, not at the poor child and her mother, but at the absurdity of the situation where he would need to bring humans into the home of what he had recently found out was a callous vampire. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. But then again, what would Cary have become if they had CASA workers in a New York slum in the 1890’s? And since, as Jill more or less implied, he was an abused child himself, maybe having this battered child would not matter. Or maybe it did. Or--. Nick had to snap himself out of it. Bethany was on the phone imploring him now. “Let me talk to the guy who owns the place I’m staying until my house is done. Can you hold?” Bethany assented to this and Nick once more got on his robe and, barefoot, went down the hallway to Cary’s closed door. He hesitated a moment and then knocked. No answer, so he cracked the door some, calling out the name of the occupant of the room. Still no answer. Nick went into the room. Cary’s bedroom was huge, and it also contained a separate sitting area and a bathroom almost as big as Nick’s room. The blond vampire walked carefully up to the huge 4-poster bed and looked at the inhabitants. Cary was, for all means and purposes, dead to the world. Jill was lying on his chest with her arms around him, exactly what she said she was going to do. Now, Nick had a problem for waking a sleeping vampire was exceedingly dangerous. A vampire’s entire system shut down while they slept—they did not even parody breathing or even have any measurable vital signs. The blood just did not flow through the body when they slept as much as it congealed and dissipated. So, the vampire when awakened needed new blood to replace the clotted fluid in their bodies. Hence, waking what was basically a corpse was fraught with peril. Startled awake, they came up in full vamp mode and attacked with an animal instinct that which disturbed them. Vampires had been known to injure people when they awoke for just that reason, they just reached out blindly and assaulted those who agitated them. Nick knew this from plain experience, he had not killed when he woke up, but had come close. He looked at them and then very gingerly tapped Cary on the shoulder. No response and Nick tried again, a little bit more forcefully this time. This worked and Nick looked at Cary’s red eyed gaze, noticing a little bit of fang under his curled lip. “Cary, it’s me, Nick. I don’t mean to disturb you but I need to ask you something.” “What?” came the answer, almost in his mind, it was so low. Quickly Nick summed up his problem. He stopped a couple of times when the others eyes closed as if in a trance. But he agreed to let them stay, or at least that was what Nick thought he had said, it wasn’t really clear. He went back to the phone and gave his assent for them to stay and gave them the address. He phoned the guard at the gate and told him to let them pass through. Half hour later he was showered dressed and ready for them. He had decided to go for the casual look of black jeans and a sweatshirt Nat had given him. He sat on the medallion Queen Anne serpentine sofa and waited. The doorbell rang and Nick got up to answer the fancy entrance door with its sidelights and transom. The door was grayish/white on the outside to match the exterior and cherrywood inside to match the hall. Why a creature who could not stand light would want a door with windows in it was a mystery to Nick, though he could appreciate the beauty of the door. He opened the door to find Bethany, another CASA worker, and a thin woman with a bruised face and an equally forlorn child. He ushered them in, noticing the way the child brushed her hand over the sideboard. They walked into the parlor and sat the mother and child seemingly reluctant to do so on such furniture. Nick then came to the realization that the house contained no food—or anything to eat on or with, vampires being on a purely liquid diet. As for the mortals’ liquid, he could only offer water or alcohol. He excused himself and went into the kitchen and picked up the phone. The local supermarket had a delivery service and Nick ordered in soda, fruit juice, and varied microwave-able meals. After he hung up, he entered back into the parlor and proceeded to put everyone at ease—being a cop had helped him in that respect. He soon won over the child, Jessica and her mother, Judy. They had no real belongings except the clothing on their backs and Nick idly wondered whether there was any clothing in the closets in the other rooms. They soon said their good-byes to the two CASA workers and Nick, after putting away the groceries, led them up the front staircase and into the bedroom nearest his. The way the hall was arranged had that door opposite Cary’s door. Nick stole into the master suite and found a nightgown of Jill’s and this he gave to Judy. Jessica was given one of his shirts, and it hung on her. For that matter, so did Jill’s outfit, as the red haired vampire was model tall. The pair had taken showers at the police station, and they were asleep the minute their heads hit the pillows. Nick closed the door and rounded the corner to see Jill staring at him. She sniffed and dropped her mouth in amazement. She took his arm and led him into his room, awaking Esme. “Are you crazy? Humans in this house?” she asked, incredulously. “Cary will go bonkers, ab-si-tive-ly bonkers. Do you want them dead?” “Nick, why did you bring people into this house, c’est pas vrai!” Esme was beyond shocked. “Mignon, what will they eat? There is no food in this house.” “I ordered some.” Jill’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You have food in this house?” she said, slowly with a pause between every word. “People food in Cary Shelley’s fridge? Oh my God.” Nick exasperatedly explained the situation to them. He told them his reasoning, what with Cary’s childhood and all. “But Nick, he doesn’t want to remember his mortal life. Why do you think he lives like a swell?” This from Jill. “He’ll get up, hungry. He’ll smell them and then he’ll kill them. You won’t have a chance to tell him. Oh my God!” she exclaimed again and sunk down on the bed. Their vampiric ears picked up the sense of someone waking up. Jill took a hurried look at the clock. They heard the shower going in the distance. Jill shook her head and walked out of the room, telling them she would try to mellow him out. “Maybe you should go stand guard near their door, mignon. That way he’ll have to fight you to get in.” Nick took this sensible advice and walked down the hall and sat on the top step, waiting. CHAPTER 9 Though normal hearing would not have picked up on it, Nick’s sensitive ears picked up the nearly silent football as it came down the back stairs. He looked up from the divan where he was sitting to see Cary enter the room. He looked rather tired, even though it was late in the evening. “Took an extra long nap, I see,” teased Nick, guessing at why the younger vampire was so late in arising. “Would have been refreshing, too, if I had been sleeping,” this said rather deadpan as Cary shuffled into his immaculate kitchen. Suddenly he stopped and sniffed—such an alien smell, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He shook his head as if to clear it and reached into the dishwasher for his mug—this was a large ceramic thing that had his name imprinted on it—and a glass decanter. He walked across to the refrigerator, opened the door—and felt his mouth drop to the floor. There was FOOD in there—milk, eggs, soda—in his icebox! He blinked one or twice, as if to clear his vision (futile, really, since it was perfect) and reached behind one of Nick’s horrid bottles to a bag of fresh blood. This he opened by the slicing of one end with a sharp eyetooth and poured some into the mug and the rest carefully into the decanter. He then placed his breakfast into the microwave and set the timer. It had taken a lot of trial and error to get the temperature correct—right at 99 degrees. Cold blood was good when mixed properly, but it had a tendency to taste clotty when taken alone. The timer rang and Cary took his mug and blew on it a little as if to cool it, a totally unnecessary gesture, but habit. He took a long sip, held it in his mouth a moment, and then swallowed. A tingling spread over him as the liquid hit his body. There was no feeling, thought the dark haired vampire, as that taste of warm blood upon first arising. The only thing that even came close (and in all honesty, possibly surpassed it) was the rush of taking living, pumping hemoglobin from a human. Another sip, using the same ritual and everything in the house seemed insignificant as the blood started to hit his extremities. Cary was still young enough to almost go into a state of ecstasy at the taste of this sustenance. After a minute, he passed though the pantry, the library, across the main hall, and into the front parlor. This was his usual routine when he awoke, just making sure everything was secure and in its place. He took the tape out of the machine, pushed a Hummel figuring on the sideboard in the hall back into place and stopped short just before the downstairs sitting room. Once more he blinked as if seeing a mirage and bent down to pick up the item that caught his attention—a candy wrapper, human scent still on it. His greenish eyes yellowed some and he took a very big sniff at the bottom of the stairs that led to the second floor. He caught just the faintest whiff of something and felt his veins tighten as something akin to hunger arose. He absently put his cup on a coaster that stood upon a serpentine console table near the foot of the staircase and looked up to the top of the stairs. Nick, keeping a rather watchful eye on him, noticed this immediately. He took in Cary’s form—straight but trembling slightly as he stared up to where Judy and her daughter slept. The ex- detective saw the eyes of the other turn an almost saffron color and noticed him unconsciously lick his lips, fang teeth clearly visible. Nick quickly put down the magazine he had been reading and, with some haste, stood in front of Cary on a higher riser—a hand held out to stop him from proceeding further. “What is going on?” asked the younger creature in the monotone that some vampires took when around living food. Nick could almost hear the bloodlust in his voice. Hurriedly the blonde vampire explained about the CASA visit. Cary’s anger was palpable. Older and stronger, Nick knew he could hold the other back, but it would be a struggle as the thirst was taking Cary over. Nick swallowed. Fighting a hungry vampire as almost as deadly as waking one up. He knew this from experience. After all, how many times had he fought and won against the much older LaCroix? Rage made them stronger, and hunger more so. “I did ask,” began Nick, lamely. “While I slept? I would agree to a stake through the heart and a necklace of garlic while I sleep!” Cary growled. “Look, all things considered I had thought that in this instance you would be a little more understanding.” For the third time that evening, Cary was left open-mouthed. “Land sakes! Why would I be so understanding?” Nick briefly wondered about the can of worms he had just opened. After all, Cary had not been exactly forthcoming about his past. “Just everything you went through as a human, I did think that given the circumstances you wouldn’t mind giving them shelter.” The look that passed over Cary’s handsome features at this statement gave Nick serious pause. “What in tarnation is that supposed to mean?” asked Cary, in a very dead voice, staring Nick straight in the eyes. “I mean while you were mortal, all you went through as a child—" the older vampire stopped then, as Cary was physically shaking with anger. “What did I go through as a child?” came the question back with emphasis. Throwing caution to the winds, Nick related some of what he had been told, without mentioning who had told him. It seemed wise to err on the side of caution in this respect. Cary, however, did not react as Nick figured he would. Instead of getting irate, he got so cold that Nick actually involuntarily shivered. “Helena,” began the other, his voice packed with ice, “is not some hell-spawned demon. And yes, Nick. My mortal life was not the best, but that’s why I made the decision to become a vampire. And tell me why, by the horn spoons, I would care about some mortals and what happens to them, for God’s sake.” “But…” “What? Should I spare any human who hasn’t had a good life?” Cary sniffed. “I’d probably starve, and animals are not an option.” “Look,” Nick placated, “it’s only one more day. On Monday they go to the shelter. If my place had been ready, I’d put them up there. Think back on the past, my friend. If someone had been there to save your sister, wouldn’t of you have been happy?” The blond vampire noticed some color come back into the other’s irises. Just then, however, they heard a soft sound, someone muttering in their slumber. The hunger came back to Cary and he was up the stairs in a thrice. The sudden move had taken Nick by surprise, and he followed with some alacrity. Jill was already blocking the door when Nick arrived on the top riser. “No,” she stated, in a quiet voice, causing both male vampires to stare at her. “Wait.” With that, she disappeared into the main bedroom. Nick took this distraction as the opportunity to stand in from to the entrance to the guestroom. By this time, with his prey so close, Cary had become a predator. Nick had not seen such ire from one of his kind in quite a while. It reminded him of LaCroix, in its way. It then struck him that Judy and Jessica would think the dog was in front of their door, such was the low growling. In the back of his mind, Nick thought what this might do to his friendship with the younger vampire. Nick never really had ever had friends whom he could be himself with. Schanke had been fun, but Nick was always on alert around him. Vachon had been too young. Forget about Tracy. Nat had been a friend, but he even had to keep a watch on himself around her. But with Cary and crew he could relax in the company of others of his kind. Nick surprised himself with how much he missed that, needed that. Eternity could be a lonely thing, as he well knew. It was strange though; he mused, watching his friend try to figure out a way past him, that he would become chummy with such a pure bloodsucker. The younger vampire harbored no doubts about his existence. Cary’s face was now one of perfect fury and frustration. He knew what he wanted, but could not get to it. Nick suddenly wished Esme was there, instead of having to run off early on an emergency call from the office. Between the two of them, they could subdue him. Without warning though, Jill was back, a small smile on her face. She took Cary by the hand and led him into his bedroom. Nick followed, curious, then stopped. On the floor, propped against a chair, was a human—a very large human. The man had to weigh a good 250 pounds or more and has rather tall. This, Nick reflected, was a true feast. He took a look at Cary, who had a glazed look in his eyes. Jill gestured at the man, inviting her lover forward. It had been quite an interval since Nick had witnessed a feeding. Every night creature had his or her own way of doing this. Some toyed with their victims, some seduced. Some bit hard; some took their time. Some approached from behind (Nick’s preferred method), some from the front. It was different techniques for the same purpose. Cary combined some of these. He slowly walked up to the mortal, looked down at him, and then looked over at Jill. The man stopped groaning and stared up at Cary, part in wonder and part in fear. Nick could now see the bruise on his temple where Jill had struck him. The dark vampire knelt by the confused man and for a second, Cary was very tender indeed. He smiled softly, never taking his eyes off his victim and never showing his fangs. He gently touched the welt on the man’s head and then smoothed back his mussed blonde hair, running a forefinger down his cheek. Under Cary’s steady gaze, the man turned eerily calm as if mesmerized. The human, oblivious to the danger shuddered as the vampire pulled his head to the right and licked his neck at the carotid artery. The victim shut his eyes and moaned at this, as if in pleasure. Then came a small snarl as Cary leaned into his neck and bit down—hard. A keening sound came from the man, like a cross between a sigh and a moan. With a sudden realization, the man futilely tried to struggle out of Cary’s grip. This was stopped soon enough though as his tormenter languidly drank. Nick managed a small swallow, forcing down his own nature at the smell of fresh blood. He could see the human slowly stop struggling as he slipped into death. He felt a tug at his arm and came out of his near trance. Jill pulled him out of the room and shut the door partway. “I know how you feel, Nick, but it was the only way,” she sighed. “If it makes it all Jake, though, that was * not * a nice mortal in there.” “No. No, it was probably for the best,” the older vampire admitted. “Cary can get murderous in his bloodlust,” she explained. “Truly horrific. He’ll be more rational after this.” Nick forced a nonchalant laugh. “That certainly was a big fellow.” The red haired vampire laughed at that then got serious. “As you know, detective, he would do better that some waifish model. Take me as an example. I’m 5’9” and weigh about 115 pounds. That means I only have maybe 7 pints of blood in me. Now that giant in there,” she indicated with her head, “has about 12 or 13 pints in him. A much better meal, don’t you think? I mean, golly, don’t we want our beloved Cary completely satiated?” “You’re right, of course. However, I just cannot get past the fact that this would be considered murder one.” Jill shrugged as Nick thought that if not for this person, Cary would probably now be snacking on mother and daughter. In fact, he still might, Nick thought morosely. ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was a good half-hour before Nick decided to look in on his friend. Cary sat against the chair with the mortal lying beside him—dead. Nick could see the blue lips and the first stages of rigor mortis on the corpse. But it was the brunette vampire that caught his eye, for Cary was in a full on blood trance. There really weren’t words for what Cary was feeling at the moment. Nick smiled to himself as he remembered the only good thing about feeding on people. What Cary was experiencing was beyond expression and was, in most vampires’ opinions, better than any human emotion or desire. It was everything—warmth you felt down to your toenails and through every nerve and fiber of your being. Cary shivered some in his bliss and drew himself into a ball, closing his eyes with a contented sigh. At the moment, Nick could set fire to the room and his fellow creature would not notice. The blood had him—as potent as any opiate on the street. Jill walked in and gave her beau a very sensuous look. Cary’s moment was sort of private; watching him was very voyeuristic, almost like being a peeping Tom. Nick knew Cary had to assimilate his victim’s memories, and most vampires took a distinct pleasure in this. The russet haired vampire smiled at him and ran a hand through Cary’s raven hair. “Better?” she inquired, gently. Cary could just nod. Jill kissed his cheek and left the room. After a moment, Nick left as well. CHAPTER 10 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I wish I loved the human race; I wish I loved its silly face; I wish I liked the way it walks; I wish I liked the way it talks; And when I’m introduced to one I wish I thought, ‘What jolly fun’. ---Walter Raleigh ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In the end, it was a good hour before Cary made an appearance in the back parlor. He came over to Jill and kissed her on the mouth. “Thank you,” he said, simply. She smiled at him in reply and flushed up rather prettily for a vampire. “Couldn’t have you munching those particular guests, hmm?” she teased. “What did you do with the body?” “Dumped in a gorge over Slide Mountain.” Cary sat in a wing chair and stretched out. He looked at Nick, who was trying not to show any emotion about this killing. “Speaking of guests in my home—.” “I said I was sorry,” Nick was beginning to get exasperated at this. “I really did not know how little you cared about mortals, especially ones in distress.” This said with just a touch of sarcasm. “Do you think of cows when you take your nourishment?” Cary challenged him, calmly. “Do you think humans think of the animals they eat? You have eggs in my icebox. Isn’t that preventing new chickens from coming into this world? Unless you or they, meaning mortals, plan on turning to plants for food, why should you care about them? Why should I?” Nick was silent for this was an old LaCroixian argument. Cary sighed a bit at his silence but continued. “There is a food chain in this world. That movie, that cartoon—‘The Lion King’? What was that song?” He looked at Jill, harbinger of all pop culture. “’Circle of Life’”, she provided. “Yeah, that one. We are higher up the food chain than them. Same as they are higher up the chain from animals. Like that picture of a big fish eating from fish smaller than they do. This is how I think about humans. Was my outlook soured by past events? I would guess it was, yes.” Still no response. “Look Nick, without blood a vampire dies. Our systems just dry up, that’s just a fact. It’s all part of the change we go through when we’re brought across. Our whole body changes, everything. That’s why we can fly, have superior strength, yada yada yada. You can’t change back. Oh sure, there are some fluke cases of it happening, but it’s very rare. Sort of like a human being born with two faces, there are cases of that you know. Forever is forever, once you’re in you can’t back out. That’s why so few vampires live to your age, Nick. They can’t stand the idea of eternity.” A shrug from Nick and Cary plugged on. He had to have him understand why mortals in his home were not a good idea. Besides, Cary rather liked the camaraderie that had developed during the last few weeks. A thought hit him suddenly. “Nick, did you come to this unlife willingly? Or were you raped into it?” That got a reply, finally. “No, I was told what to expect and what was going to happen. I was seduced into it, yes, but I went willingly.” A nod from the younger vampire. “From what I’ve heard of your maker, that sounds about right. Now let me ask you something else. Tell me a good thing about mortality? Why would you want to be human?” “The sun,” answered Nick, without hesitation. “To taste food, all the foods of this age---hotdogs, marshmallows, suvlaki, coffee, donuts. To hear the birds sing, see the butterflies and all the colors of the world. To see the green of the grass and the trees, the reddish clay, brown dirt. To see turquoise seas and blue skies. Heat, glorious heat---warm hands, warm feet. Human love, going out to a movie or to a grocery store without wanting to devour the patrons. The list goes on and on.” Cary sort of snorted at this. “Well, Nicolas,” he said, giving Nick’s name its French pronunciation, “several things to your list. First, the sun is rather highly overrated. Even mortals are recognizing this by using sunblock to keep it away. Personally, I have never been a big fan of it, even when I was alive. As for food, I’ll give you some of the modern things. I’ve always wanted to try a cheeseburger myself, but Ty makes bloodwine that have the taste of at least some of those things. Ask for number 28, it tastes like chocolate, or so I’ve been told. As for the colors, you call pull on a VR machine or watch the movies or the television. The heat is fixed by heating up a fireplace, or pulling a heater to you. They have these electric space heaters that you can adjust to have heat on just you. And if you get too cold, you can always find something to snack on.” This said with just a hint of a smile. “As for going out among them, feed well and you don’t have to worry about the hunger.” “True, all of it. But how about human love, Cary?” Jill looked at the dark haired vampire at this question. He looked away for a moment. “Love. Human love? What is so wonderful about human love, Nick? Let me tell you, our way is much better, I think. We have no fear of any disease, no bodily fluids, and no worry about unexpected consequences. And, if you wish to be crass about it, a mortal orgasm does not even come near the feeling of drinking from your partner. This is why, if I might opine on it, that vampires can only find contentment with other of their nature.” “Exactly!” exclaimed Jill, causing both males to look at her. “I was not exactly * chaste * when I was mortal,” she chided. “But the only real sexuality came when I was brought across. Vampires are sensualists at heart. Our skin, our senses are all heightened. A simple caress from one of us, a simple kiss, is much more erotic than the same from any human. And the blood, well, it’s just the cat’s meow. Nothing can compare or come close to it.” “True, all of it, true,” Nick admitted, reluctantly. “But virtual reality, to get back to the previous topic, does not beat sunlight. Just to * chew * on food, that is something that cannot be replaced.” “Alright,” conceded the darker vampire. “I’ll give you chewing.” “Finally!” laughed Nick. Then he got sober. “So, our guests, can they stay? It’ll only be till Monday then they are out of here and into a safe place.” “And this place is not safe, I mean, besides the fact that they could lose their lives at any given moment. I really do not think that anyone would be so foolish as to try to harm them here!” This said with a bit of a chuckle. “But fine, okay, they can stay just till Monday, but keep them away from me. I will not take any responsibility for any mishaps that may occur. Oh, and all the nauseating food goes as well. I will not be ill anytime I go to my icebox.” “You know,” Nick mused, “I ate french fries once.” “How did they taste?” asked Jill, as they had come after her time. “Salty and chewy. I loaded them down with catsup. That was sort of tangy tasting.” “I tried to eat a candy bar one time, soon after I came across. I took one nibble and got very ill indeed. It brought the fact that I was a vampire to me better then anything else. No candy and no pop. I did manage to eat a grain or two of sugar from a packet, though.” A laugh all around at that. Then Nick had a sudden thought, since Cary was in such a congenial mood. “Cary,” he began, cautiously, “ why do you hate humans so? And human love is nothing to sneer at.” Jill’s cornflower eyes widened at this statement. She wondered if her lover would actually answer this. To her surprise, he did. “Human love? To be honest, Nick, this is one emotion that I have no experience with, at all. The first love I felt from any creature on this earth was from Helena. Maybe you had an idyllic childhood filled with warm memories. I know Jill did---mama, papa, grandma, brother. I didn’t have that luxury.” Cary was silent a moment, before he went on. This was obviously painful for him. “My grandparents were left back in Ireland when my parents came to this country. Da was escaping a theft charge and my mam had run off from the hardscrabble life of her parent’s potato farm. They met on the boat and married here. Of all the children, five died—4 boys and 1 girl. Three brothers survived, besides my sister and me. My one brother, Jarlath, he died of diphtheria when he was about ten. The other two—Aiden and Donagh, joined one of the many gangs that were around back then. Donagh was the follower, Aiden was the bully. He and Da were one and the same. “Mam, her name was Maeve, worked at making cigars, and we all helped. Well, at least, my sis Sorcha and I helped.” Cary snorted. “Da worked very rarely, usually down at the docks. He was also big into dog fighting—kept a terrier that could go for 15 to 20 rats in the pit. Aiden was a bloke buzzer. He used Donagh as the stall, and he was the hook. Aiden was also not above panel thieving. The leatherheads knew them, Aiden was sent to the Tombs several times—.” Jill interrupted this narrative for some questions. “Um, darling. What are a stall and a hook? A leatherhead? Bloke buzzer? Honey, I was not born then, please elaborate for me, hmm?” She came over to kneel by his chair, smoothing his hair back as she made her request. Nick grinned. “Sorry. My brothers were pickpockets; stall and hook are terms used by them. Leatherheads are cops. A bloke buzzer was a pickpocket who specialized in stealing from men. A moll buzzer was one who stole from women. The Tombs was the prison.” The red-haired vampire nuzzled his neck as a way of thanking him for that, though it was not really needed. “Continue,” she told him. “Cigar making was only part time work, though. Mam was really good at cutting feathers from cocktails, and Sorcha was also. I was not and Da thought that we needed to work to earn our keep. ‘Ye didna work, ye don’ eat’, that’s what he always said. So I went over to the envelope factory at 3 and ½ cents a thousand. We went in just after sunrise and didn’t get off till after the sun went down.” “No school?” asked Jill. She had never heard this part of the tale before. “School?” Cary laughed. “That took money off the table, and that was a sin in my family. Same as church. Mam went, but Da wouldn’t let us go, we had to do chores then, or work. Hell, it wasn’t until I got to the Home that I realized that Jesus Christ was not a swear word. Of course, we were supposed to go, but it wasn’t really enforced back then—we’re talking the mid 1880’s Five Point district here, don’t forget.” “Anyway, Aiden always thought that I was too pretty for any boy. He was always trying to get me to come along with him. Or trying to get me into the streets, where I could make real cash, as he so nicely put it. Mam would not let this happen—and Da wasn’t too keen on the idea at all. ‘It’d be too much of a hassle wit the leatherheads, me boyo,’ he’d tell Aiden. ‘Tow tis a good idea, aye, this is at that. But no.’” “Now, Da was usually drunk, as I said. I was the one to go to the slop house, the saloon, to get the bucket for the beer. Whiskey was too expensive. And then I had to haul that heavy bucket home and woe to me if I spilled a lick. Then off would come the belt and a right thrashing. But the next morning, off to work I’d go. Broken arm, black eye, busted ribs—off to work. And I had to keep up as well. The factory bosses did not like it and I was let go. Boy, did I get a good beating for that! Anyway, I soon found another job in a glass factory. Worked from about 5pm to 3:30am. I made more money, anyway—a whopping 64 cents a day. I was a carrying-in boy and walked miles to and fro carrying those red hot bottles to the oven.” “How old were you?” Jill, brought up in a decent midwestern town, was appalled. Cary shrugged. “Got the job in the envelope place at 6, I think. The job in the glass place at 8.” He looked away. “Anyway, Mam got caught up in the cholera outbreak when I was about 9, in 1884. I came home from work one day and she was dead. That’s when Da decided that we were moving from that flat to another one—a rear tenement. The front room was about 12 square feet and the bin in the back for the bedroom was about 6. We had two windows that opened on the court, but our building was smaller than the front building, so there was never any sunlight that shown. Not that I got to see the sun much, working 7 days a week. We paid $6.00 a month for that third floor flat. At least our old apartment was a front building. Da refused to work at this time and my brothers had moved out. Sorcha was working making pants. I remember the day she came home because her hand slipped and she lost a finger in the machines. I had to take her round to the doc, because Da was at the groggery.” “Then when I was about 11, the cops came around with the child welfare people. It seemed they arrested Da for the rape of my sister. When she protested, he got mad and choked her to death. I won’t say what he choked her with, I didn’t understand how for years it could happen.” At this, Cary got very quiet for a few moments, then let out a long sigh. “They took me to a founding home run by the parish church. The only good thing was that I did not have to go to work. The bad thing? Ever read that book Oliver Twist? Sort of like that, but worse. At the time, my health was not the best. I was born with weak lungs, and the life I led caused asthma. I had trouble breathing and was always wheezing. This made me a target for the older boys. Plus my face got me into a lick of mess as well. I’ve always wondered if I were ugly, then maybe I would have been left alone. And the brothers were no better, always coming in at night. I learned to sleep all crunched up, or under the bed. Better to sleep with the bugs than other night terrors. Since I never went to church, I was treated badly for that. First time I used the Lord’s name in vain, the nun beat my hand so hard I couldn’t move it to make a fist.” “I finally could take no more and told the head of the church what was going on when he came to visit. Guess who got into trouble? Me. When he left, I was taken out and beaten worse that Da or Aiden ever got me. A month later, they kicked me out—I was all of 14, with no skills.” “I had trouble getting work with my lungs the way they were. But I finally did get work in a garment factory. As long as I could stand, they kept me on. More long 10-hour days. Finally, by my 17th birthday, I couldn’t work anymore. I couldn’t breathe. So I landed on the streets, doing any odd job I could beg. Aiden came along occasionally and tried to get me to do a different kind of street work, but I refused that. I had enough of that in the Home.” “Finally, a female friend of mine took pity on me and took me to the doctor she used. This doc was more familiar various sexual diseases and pregnancies that resulted from my friend’s occupation, but he managed a course of treatment. I consisted of Quinine in two-grain doses; three times a day and laudanum in small doses, as well as iodide of potassium. Now, the Quinine was not bad, bitter tasting, but not bad. Like soda water. The potassium was also not too bad, I mean it was basically salt. The trouble was the laudanum, which was basically a mixture of alcohol and opium. All three taken together was not good. In fact, I became so addicted to the laudanum; I couldn’t work at all, lost my job again. I slept in flophouses or on the streets.” “It was actually a bowery bummer who took me to another doctor. He thought that at 19 I was too young to be living like a ‘feral animal’. Now the MD he took me off the medicines I had been taken. This was a good thing. The bad thing, he was a Rush disciple. Ever hear of Dr. Rush?” Nick nodded. “He was an influential professor who believed Negro’s were black because of leprosy, tobacco caused madness and other strange beliefs. If I recall, and I worked as a doctor during the Civil War, he prescribed bloodletting, blistering, purging, and sweating treatments. Yeah, I remember Benjamin Rush.” “So you know what my treatment was. I was bleed about a pint a day, every day. The blistering was the worst, for they first had to burn you to get the blisters. Then came the course of calomel, which caused you to vomit, to be polite. Oh, don’t forget the mustard plasters! Oh, and the laxatives to cause the purge, that was pleasant. In fact, sweating was the least offensive. And none of these things helped one iota, though I didn’t know this at the time.” “All I knew was that I was constantly weak, couldn’t breathe right. I could barely eat, everything came back up. But that was fine, as I couldn’t afford food most of the time anyway. Of course, my brothers made my life a living hell as well. Too high and mighty for them. They and their gang would be after me all the time, just for the hell of picking on someone weaker then themselves.” “By the time I turned 20, I was in a state of depression. Nothing but misery everywhere. I didn’t have a girl for I could not breathe long enough to do anything and they all thought I would make them sick anyway. My clothing was stolen or taken from where I could find it—the dump mostly. Sometimes I was lucky and found shoes, most of the times I used cardboard in the winter and just went without in the summer.” “Then Helena found me curled up on a grate in an alley one cold, rainy night. I was supposed to be dinner, you see. But she couldn’t kill me. She told me later that my face saved my life, such as it was. She took me in, kept me for over three months, seduced me and finally made the decision to bring me across—I was 21 years old.” “So you see, Nick, humans mean nothing to me. Twenty years of poverty, neglect, abuse of all sorts--and you expect me to like mortals? Why? The vampire community took me in right off. Helena became lover, mother, angel, wife—everything to me. Now, you tell me something. Why should I have compassion for them, when they did nothing to help me? Not the cops, the church, family, nobody. Do you know I never remember anyone actually hugging me with affection as a child? Mam didn’t beat us, but she did neglect us. But heck, she worked her fingers to the bone and was beat as bad as us all. Plus, Da’s sexual activities bordered on rape at the best of times. She didn’t have a chance, for her parents were taskmasters as well.” For a while, the three sat there in silence. Jill had red streaks down her face from her tears; she never guessed how bad it had been. “But because of the circumstances, the two you have upstairs can stay. Perhaps if they did have such services when I was younger, I would have had a different life. But living well is the best revenge, as they say. Here I am, over a hundred years later—rich, successful, powerful. And my tormentors? Dead. Revenge is sweet, when you have the means.” Nick paled some at that. “But enough of this maudlin junk. You, Nick, have paperwork to complete before tomorrow. So we might as well get at it.” He turned to Jill. “Darling, can you excuse us while we tend to business?" CHAPTER 11 Cary’s office, such as it was, was off the foot of the staircase in the octagonal study. There was room to pass from front parlor to keeping room, and then the rest of the room was the office. An odd place in Nick’s view, but as Cary rightly pointed out, he did live alone. Off to the side of the plantation desk stood two Martha Washington chairs. The desk faced the windows, obliging Cary to have to turn his chair to the side to look at his visitors, as the chairs were all placed to the right. Directly in back of the office chair was a couple of wingchairs. On the left, on another table looking out of place stood his computer equipment. There was also a copier and a barrister type case, used for files. Most noticeable were a few items that took Nick’s interest. The first was a spectacular three door cherry bookcase. The second was the two cherry rope twisted high back parlor chairs. They had brass finials and ball and claw legs. Nick, knowing a little about furniture, thought it looked like Hunzinger. Rare indeed. Nick was handed a plain, grey pocketed portfolio while he took a seat in one of the rather uncomfortable Martha Washington chairs. He opened it while Cary took a seat in his rather more comfortable desk chair. Inside the folder were quite a few forms, all in triplicate. He looked up. “Might as well get started,” commented the dark haired vampire, turning on the overhead lights. “Colin should be here in just a few minutes, I called him. After all, as a witness to your signature and who better than an Enforcer, hmm,” Cary smiled. “Now, if you open up, you should see the first form is your hunting license.…” “I won’t need one of those,” Nick told him, rather forcefully. “I do understand your feelings, Nick, but you still have to prove that you can do it. You don’t have to * pay * for the thing if you don’t want it. The cost, by the way, is $2000 a year, in advance…” “That’s quite a lot of money,” mused Nick. “True—but hunting is a privilege in this day and age and we do not want fledglings just going out and killing the population at large, so we try to regulate it. You want to hunt, you pay for it. But first you need to fill out the proper documentation to prove you know how, even if you don’t.” Nick sighed, what a bother. He picked up the form and read it over; the first part was mostly standard information with vital stats to fill in about him. Then he looked at the second page and his mouth dropped. He looked up at Cary, incredulous. “I can’t do this. No, moreover, I won’t do this.” This said rather adamantly. “We have to know that you know what you are doing.” “I’m 800 years old; I know what I’m doing.” Nick angrily shook the paper. “I won’t kill.” “Nick…” “No. LaCroix couldn’t get me to do it. You certainly won’t.” Cary’s turn to sigh. “Just give me a moment and let me figure this out, alright?” Silence for a few minutes, and then a knock was heard and Colin entered, followed closely on his heels by Alex. “Cary,” greeted the Enforcer, with a nod of his head. “Nick.” Nick nodded acknowledgement as Colin took a seat in one of the wing chairs. He carried an attaché chase. Alex swept the newly transplanted vampire with a disdainful look. Nick wondered at this. The Russian had certainly taken a dislike to him rather quickly—wh