#5 Christmas Waltz

LaCroix smiled smugly at the innocuous sentiment. Of course, it was King Arthur's song, right as Lady Guinevere jumped into an adulterous affair with Sir Lancelot, and all of Camelot fell into ruins. Arthur was a fool.

How did someone simply love Nicholas? Even his mortal parents had not succeeded. LaCroix blinked back the memories of Nicholas's childhood, memories that he'd kept from him after the night in question, when he son had lost everything.

He flipped on the tape recorder and began his wild musings, sensing that tonight's monologue would need a lot of editing before he'd allow it over the air. Beyond the greeting of gentle listeners, his thoughts were not speaking now to Nicholas, as he often did, but to parents, partners, significant others, all those who were caught in the wake of a tempestuous relationship with such a difficult person. Nicholas was passionate and moody, giving and demanding, arrogant one minute, and wretched the next. And LaCroix loved him all the more for it. His existence before Nicholas was like a daguerreotype photograph, flat and two-dimensional, slightly faded with time, creased and nameless. Now, life was more than just Technicolor. Nicholas was an entire home entertainment system with surround sound and a wide-screen digital television. LaCroix had merely to remain in the center of the room and revel in his son. Only, Nicholas so often tried to push him away. LaCroix would not stand for it again.

Natalie turned on the radio. It was almost time for the Nightcrawler again. She felt a delicious wave of anticipation as she waited for the song to end and for his mellifluous voice to fill the morgue. He had not called her since they went dancing a couple nights ago. Of course, she could have called him, but she hadn't known what to say. And, if Nick had been old-fashioned, how much more so would his master be? Then, there was the fire at the Raven. They were overworked right now, as they tried to pick up the pieces and rebuild. Her heart ached for them.

Another song played, a strange one considering the station. CERK played mostly contemporary rock, and this was a country western song. George Strait, if she remembered correctly. She seldom listened to that genre, but he was better than most. His voice was pleasant to listen too, without the twanging slide that sounded like sick moose that was so popular among country western singers. And his songs often held more of a sentiment than the usual "I want my job back, my house back, my dog back...".

"It was the best day of my life" proved her right. It was a love song, of the love between a father and a son. She smiled wistfully, already sensing the topic of tonight's monologue would not be dedicated to her. She turned up the volume and resumed her work, as LaCroix gave his dark view of family.

"The pelican is a peculiarity in the feathered world. While it may seem a foolish, amusing bird at first, upon closer inspection its sincere love and devotion may be humbling. The parent builds its nest, lays its eggs, and waits patiently for its children to come into the world. Then it feeds them and cares for them, protects them from all danger, as they grow. In times of drought, the parent will even pluck at its breast until the blood flows, and it will nourish the hungry fledglings upon its own blood and life-source. Sacrificing it's own life if need be, for that is the way of a parent. Then one day these thoughtless, self-centered fledglings fly away without a backward glance, without so much as a single word of thanks. The parent is left alone, with nothing to show for its pain, other than the memory, and that too fades with time.

"I ask you, dear listeners... are you the parent? Or the fledgling? Do you have offspring that treat you with similar disrespect? Do they badger and annoy you, or rise up against you in defiance? Children, do your parents provoke you? Are your relationships not what they once were, not what they could be? Do you find frustration at every bend? Irritation in every nuance?

"The bonds of family are firmly forged, forever linked, entwined into our very nature... to turn against the ones who gave you life is like castrating yourself, tearing the life-force from your wretched existence. And yet, you say, how can you repair the bridges that have been destroyed by constant warfare? The paths worn away from immutable erosion of the raging winds?"

Natalie smiled. LaCroix was more eloquent than normal tonight. Nick had taken two nights off to hang around the Raven. Was he driving his master crazy? She strongly suspected he would be returning to work tomorrow.

"Love," LaCroix continued. "At times, we are reminded that it is a four-letter word. It is the source of our pain, our misery, our rage, and perhaps, for a time, we may try to drive it far from us, striving to live without rather than endure the torment a moment longer. But what are we without love? Mere shades of the once mighty beings we had been, colorless and flat, totally without substance. The poets proclaim that love is the only thing that is truly immortal. Well, they are wrong. But perhaps, an immortality without it, is the only hell.

"Tonight, my children, is dedicated to those who find love a challenge. Tell me about your love. Tell me how you face your challenge, tell me your victory."

Natalie burst out laughing. It was as close to asking for advice as she'd ever heard the old man come!

So, what words of wisdom would she share? She had been surrounded all her life with difficult people, stormy personalities, daring her to love them. Her abusive nana, her absentee parents, her crazy baby brother who was out to save the world regardless of the means used to get there. And Nick. Had she learned how to love him? How to live with him, or better yet, how to live without? No... she had no right to call in tonight... but perhaps, she would listen a while longer.

Nick tossed the sandpaper aside again. LaCroix would be busy for an hour or more... what better time to begin practicing for the Christmas Ball? He wiped his hands on his jeans and leaped up onto the stage. Grunting disdainfully at the pathetic little electronic excuse for a keyboard, he slipped into a boogie beat version of jingle bells.

Vachon grinned. Making music was always better than working. He joined Nick on stage and took his guitar, an extension of himself, to join in the song. Urs swung her hips to the beat as she worked, singing the lyrics in her deep contralto. Jingle Bells had never sounded sexier. Tracy laughed. Somehow, she didn't think it was appropriate for the Policeman's Ball, but it sure made the work go easier.

Jingle Bells turned into Jingle Bell Rock, and a host of other secular songs of the season. Tracy figured they would be fine, but wondered what Nick would do if someone requested a Christian carol. How much did that fear of anything holy affect her?

"Come here, Tracy," Nick called, interrupting her thoughts. She smiled and joined him.

"What's up?"

"It's time for your number," he said, grinning broadly.

"Nick! I can't sing. I'm not a singer. You heard the captain, he expects a quality program, and that does not include me."

"And you have a short memory, Baby. I agreed to do it, only if you sang, too." Nick started to play a familiar, peppy tune, about a child who watched her mommy kiss Santa Clause. Tracy rolled her eyes. It was juvenile, but not a challenging song.

"Even you can do it," he said. "Just be yourself."

Tracy sang it, stumbling a little over some of the words. He played several children's songs for her to sing. "Those are the ones you need to work on," he told her later.

"This is not going to be pretty," she grumbled.

"Oh, and I got you something," he said. Nick stood and reached into the back pocket of his snug jeans, withdrawing a slim brown paper bag.

"What is it?" she asked excitedly, as she accepted the gift. "It's too early for Christmas, you know."

She pulled out three skeins of silver embroidery floss and looked up at him questioningly.

"For your quilt," he mumbled, almost apologetically. "I thought maybe silver, for the names. You don't have to use it. I just always tend to give LaCroix stuff made in silver, and he gives me gold. Weird..."

Tracy interrupted his ramblings by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek loudly. "That is so sweet! Thank you! Where ever did you find this color? I've never seen it before!"

Nick shrugged off his embarrassment. "I get around," he explained numbly.

"Look, Urs! Silver will look great on the crimson satin! Our quilt is going to be so gorgeous!"

Urs smiled at Tracy. "Yes, it will. Why don't we get started right away, and we'll each sew one square tonight, just to see how it looks?" She pulled two small embroidery hoops from her purse and passed one to Tracy.

"I think I'll start with mine," Tracy said. "I put a lot of words in there, and maybe I'll need to edit it."

Nick leaned over Urs's shoulder and Vachon watched Tracy as they threaded their needles and began the stitches. The silver floss had a metallic thread in it that shimmered and sparkled, but made it difficult to work with. After experimenting around, they found the stitch that looked the nicest was also one of the most time-consuming- a satin stitch. The names would have to be done in a fancier block script, but the finished squares were perfect. Tracy's enthusiasm was infectious.

"Thanks, Nick!" she exclaimed again, hugging him impulsively.

"Time's up," Vachon warned. The girls stuffed their project back into their purses just in time as the soundbooth door opened and LaCroix stepped into his bar.

The ancient master looked at his progeny with an uplifted eyebrow. Nick shrugged and got to his feet. "Time to get back to work, Baby. The master is watching," he said lightly.

LaCroix glared at him wordlessly. Nick grinned as he returned to sanding. LaCroix wasn't the sort of vampire one teased very often, but once in a while, it was fun.

Rachel sat wordlessly beside her husband as the smelly bus lurched and bumped along its way. She tried to ignore the stares of the Englishers. She wasn't a sideshow! And she wouldn't do a thing to add to their entertainment, which meant that she would say nothing loud enough for them to overhear, either. If only she could have stayed home!

But Joseph had insisted she come along. This was to be a holiday. For six years they had been scrimping and saving, working like slaves to raise enough money to buy a farm of their own. He worked in the little city, returning only on weekends. She didn't even know for certain what he did, but his hands were always covered with black grime when he returned and his hair had a smell of machines. Rachel had stayed in their tiny, rented home, tending the garden, the children, and their few animals- the cow, chickens, and horse. It was a lonely life. They didn't have any Amish neighbors, and she never went anywhere.

Only her children kept her sane. Sarah was nearing five now, and eager to learn to read. Rachel taught her to print the alphabet and read a few simple words. Sarah helped her with the new baby.

Rueben was four. His black curls were so like her father's! Her throat constricted as she remembered the happy home she'd left behind when she accepted Joseph's marriage proposal. But she wouldn't think about that now. She wouldn't feed the gawkers' curiosity by letting them see her weep.

Little Mary was eight months old. She was a pretty baby, and the best behaved one she'd ever seen, including her many little sisters. Mary seldom cried. She never babbled and cooed. She just smiled. Rachel worried about her, wondering if her overly placid nature was the result of something terribly wrong with her. She mentioned that to Joseph once, and he had criticized her severely.

"Mothers!" he had shouted. "If the baby cries, it's colic, and if it's quiet, then it can't possibly be healthy! Good Lord! Why did you give me such a woman!"

And so Rachel kept silent. She didn't tell him that Mary could sleep through anything, even a thunderstorm. She didn't remind him that Sarah was already saying "mama" by that age.

Joseph snored softly. He shifted in his seat, bumping against her. Rachel looked at him dispassionately. He had a hard face. He was older than her by ten years, years he had spent working for others, always dreaming of a farm of his own. His hair was wheat-colored, his eyes the shade of a summer sky. His beard was thin. It didn't want to grow, like a man's beard should. It was a source of embarrassment to him. Unmarried men shaved their faces. Married men wore full beards. That was the Amish way.

The hair on his head was just as contrary. It was becoming thinner, and leaving more of his head bare each year. It infuriated him that strangers often thought Rachel was his daughter instead of his wife.

Rachel had been young when she married, but not that young. And six years of hard work had taken away any residual bloom of youth. Now, she suspected that she looked motherly, but his thinning hair and hard face lent a more grandfatherly air.

Poor Joseph, she thought sadly. He did work hard. No one could ever fault him for that. It wasn't really his fault that he had no sense of humor. He never enjoyed life. It was always a string of one struggle after another with him. Even this trip, which should have been a joyous one, a celebration of a new life, as they journeyed into the big city to buy their own farm! But Joseph was already fretting about how to get the fields prepared, and that he'd have to continue working in the little city until he could buy the plow he wanted. She had hoped that they might do something special on this trip- maybe eat in a fancy restaurant, or take a side trip to visit another Amish community. She was so lonely, sometimes she felt like she would just scream and scream, and no one would ever hear her.

Joseph didn't want to eat in a restaurant. They would buy only enough food at the store to make sandwiches, and they would eat that. Bread and cheese for breakfast, lunch and supper. She felt nauseated, and hoped it was just the traveling and not another child. God forgive her, but she didn't want another child. Not just now. Please, not until Sarah and Rueben were older!

It wasn't really Joseph's fault that she didn't love him. Poor Joseph. He deserved better.

Feeling tears threaten to spill, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep, holding her breath to conceal the sobs that shook her thin frame. "Dear Lord, forgive me," she prayed.

Nick yawned widely as he struggled to wakefulness. He reached out for Urs, but the bed was empty. Feeling a sudden fear, he opened his eyes and tried to sense her. Another vampire was in the loft. He heard her now, her soft contralto voice humming something as she moved. She was contented. He buried the fear, but now he was fully awake. Well, it was probably time to get ready for work, anyway.

The bathroom looked different. It even smelled different. Nick stared in a spotless mirror at the pale, sleepy reflection. What day was this? His housekeeper hadn't been by. Yet the damp towels and discarded clothing had been removed and every inch of the bathroom scrubbed bright. The air had a lemon-fresh scent. With a careless shrug, he stepped into the shower and finished waking up.

Shortly he flew into the kitchen fully clothed and ready for work. He thought he'd try to sneak up on his lover, as he concealed his presence from her. Urs had tied a dishtowel around her waist and was standing on a chair dusting the top of his refrigerator while she sang.

"Urs! Get down from there!" he said, more sharply than he'd intended.

Urs jumped, startled, and the chair wobbled out from under her. Nick flew to catch her just in time. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Good evening, my love," she said.

He felt too warm already, just at the sound of her voice. There wasn't time for that now. He had missed too much work lately. He'd better not show up so much as a minute late. "What do you think you're doing," he said firmly, trying to get his desires under control.

"Just tidying up a bit," she said lightly. She tried not to let his brusque tone of voice intimidate her. Nick was too moody. She tried to distance herself just a bit, to maintain a more even disposition. It was getting harder, for the longer they lived together, the closer she sensed his emotional upheavals.

"Well, don't," he snapped. He put her down and went to pour his breakfast.

"Why?" Urs asked timidly.

Nick chugged the first glass and refilled it. He'd grabbed one of her bottles by mistake, but it didn't matter any more. Nat was giving up on him, and he was giving up on himself. What was a little human once in a while, as long as he didn't have to kill for it?

"You don't need to slave in here. I have a housekeeper. If there's something you think she needs to do, then leave her a note!"

"You don't have to hire a housekeeper," Urs whispered softly. "Now that I live here. There isn't enough work to keep us both busy."

Nick glared at her. Was she intentionally baiting him this evening. "That's the point. You are not here to be my housekeeper. Let her do her job."

Urs did not let him see how much his tone of voice hurt. Her father used to use that dictatorial manner, when he was sober. But Nick was nothing like her father. He could be loving, and tender, and sweet. Right now he was just being stupid. Or a man. If there was a difference. Considering the topic closed, she moved closer to him. "Have a good time tonight, Nicky," she whispered as she gave him a hug.

Nick remained stiff and unyielding for a full minute. Then his anger seemed to drain from him and he responded with a warm hug and affectionate kiss. "You too, love," he whispered.

He took his watch from its box behind the couch and slipped it on. Then he drew his gun from the drawer, loaded it and slid it into the holster under his jacket. Urs had watched him perform this small ritual a number of times already and it still struck her as odd. Why would a vampire carry a gun? It must be one of those little-boy things, like wanting to play cops and robbers. He came back for his last kiss, then he left. Urs smiled at the empty apartment as she returned to cleaning the refrigerator.

~

Rachel shivered as the wintry wind blew right through her heavy shawl. She pulled it closer around Mary and hunched her shoulders, trying to keep the worst of the wind from finding her baby.

"Mama, I want to go home," Rueben said. He was a good child, but he must be reaching the end of his endurance. That had almost sounded like a whine.

"When's Papa coming back?" Sarah asked, her teeth chattering slightly.

"Soon, dear, soon," Rachel lied. When was he coming back? He should have returned hours ago. He had told her to sit on this bench in this park and wait, and when he returned, they would go to the restaurant for that dinner she wanted, to celebrate their new farm. That had been at noon. Now supper hour had come and gone. The sun had set. The park had emptied of people. Still she remained, frightened and very much alone. She had never learned more than a few words of English. How could she even ask for help? Why didn't he come back! She blinked rapidly, determined not to give into tears of worry and fear in front of the children. She would just wait for him. He should be here soon.

Nick whistled brightly as he parked at the precinct. Lately, it seemed like he spent more time off work than on. It was good to be returning. Tracy seemed a little distracted, not annoying him with her perpetual motion. It looked like it would be a great night all around.

The precinct was all bedecked with evergreen boughs, red ribbon, and tinsel. It looked a little cluttered, but the fresh pine scent was a welcomed change as it masked the stench of boiled coffee. The dispatcher wore a silly elf's hat, the pompom hanging down the side of her face. A small tree sat on a table in the back corner, and two officers were hanging the lights. Boxes and bags of unwrapped gifts were gathered under the table. It was the annual Toys for Tots drive again. Nick would bring in his token gift, along with everyone else, but the Brabant foundation would make a more sizeable donation privately. It was one of the few joys he found at this time every year, as he selected which toys to donate. It wasn't as much fun as mortal parents must enjoy, for he never saw the children's happy faces, but some of the parents sent thank you notes to the Brabant foundation. Not that he expected their thanks... but it was nice to know the toys were appreciated.

Reese came out of his office and smiled awkwardly at Nick. "How's your father doing?" he asked.

Nick shrugged. "He's a survivor. He's doing fine, Captain."

"We don't have any leads on the perpetrators, I'm sorry to say. A team from dayshift has the case."

Nick nodded, trying to look concerned. He knew the hunters had paid the ultimate price. He still couldn't summon up enough guilt to care.

"Welcome back, then," Reese said awkwardly.

Tracy paled at the gingerbread boy sitting on her desk. At one time she might have eaten it, although gingerbread was never one of her favorites. Now, though, the smell was nauseating.

Nick laughed. "You never quite get used to that," he explained. "Sudden gifts of food. But you have to smile and look nice about it, or you'll hurt a lot of feelings."

"Fine," she griped quietly, so only Nick could hear. "I'll smile, just as soon as you get it off my desk!"

Nick shook his head. "Deal with it. Put it in your purse or something."

Tracy pulled a yellow envelope from her desk and, peeking at her mortal coworkers, slipped the cookie inside and dumped it all in the trash. Nick sniggered. She smiled at him innocently. "Dealt with, bro."

They didn't have long to wait before a call came in. It was too bad really, cold weather didn't stop murder, holy days didn't stop murder, even natural disasters, like the asteroid scare a few years back, didn't stop the violence. On the contrary, when mortals should have been pulling together, offering one another support, the violence had escalated. Maybe things had been the same when he'd been a boy, but without television, radio, and newspapers, the violence had not been publicized.

Snow was falling again. It clung to the windshield of the Caddy, and as they pulled up behind West Side high the snow covered the schoolyard. Large wet flakes floated lazily about the crime scene. The shoulders and hats of the uniforms on the scene were sporting snow. Snow dampened Nat's eyelashes as she looked up at Nick and Tracy.

The body of a high school boy lay in the snow, still and cold, a small red pool stained the snow around him.

"No ID. on the body," Nat said sadly. It always bothered her when the victim was a child. This boy looked to be about seventeen or eighteen- not quite a child, really, but not an adult yet either. He was well dressed, in the expensive, casual attire of the modern rich. His blue denims cost more, his T-shirt was a designer label, the black and orange letter-jacket identified him as a student in this school, and the name-brand basketball shoes were still new. Nick tugged on the jacket to view the front. The large W was well decorated with pins and medals. Whoever the boy had been, he was gifted in basketball and music.

"So what can you tell us?" Tracy asked, interrupting the gloominess she sensed from her partner.

Nat shrugged. "Single gunshot wound to the back. Whether the killer was a crack shot or damn lucky, I don't know, but the victim died instantly."

"Time of Death?" Nick asked.

"I can't say for sure," she said. "The body's cold, but it is cold out tonight. Couple hours, maybe."

Tracy drifted towards a squad car where an uniformed officer was taking a statement. A man, with a dog on a leash, was speaking to them. He'd found the body while out for a walk. He didn't know the kid.

Nick laid a hand on Nat's shoulder consolingly. Then he wandered away from the body, looking, listening, reaching out with his senses. All was silent. The recent snow covered any tracks, if there had been any. It was time to go.

He was silent as he drove back to the precinct. Tracy turned the radio on to CERK. "You know, I think his is the only station in Toronto not spouting Christmas music," she said.

Nick stared out at the city streets. Two joggers, bundled in sweats, a late bus passed. Traffic was unusually heavy, given the hour of the night. The malls were open later from now until Christmas. A woman sat on a park bench... that wasn't unusual, but this woman was. She wore clothing from some past century, and three small children huddled about her. Nick stared as he continued past. Had she even been real? It must be a figment from his past, a memory. He slowed the Caddy and drove around the block. As he past the park again, the woman was gone.

"Did you get lost?" Tracy asked.

He just shrugged.

Back at his desk, Nick began flipping through the pages of last year's high school yearbook. It was a long shot, but maybe their John Doe would turn up, not in the pictures of graduating seniors, but maybe in the sports or music photos. Then he found it. Jason Wilton, Jr. A little more research revealed a home address. He called Nat first, then beckoned to Tracy sadly.

"Come on, Baby. Time to notify the parents."

She grabbed her coat and purse. "I hate these," she said.

"Everyone does."

The notification had been especially rough. The father hadn't been home. The mother was alone when they delivered the news. Nick had urged her to call someone to come to the morgue with her before she identified the body. She was in shock, unable to think.

"A neighbor, a friend? Your priest?" Nick had prodded. She gave the name of her minister blankly. Tracy actually made the call. Then they drove her to the minister's house and escorted them to the morgue.

The mother had come apart then. She screamed in anguish as she clutched her son to her. The minister took her in his arms and prayed. Nick needed to talk with them, but now was not the time. He gave them his card and left.

The bullpen chatter seemed a little more confusing than normal. Nick blocked it out as he slumped behind his desk. For half an hour he stared at his files, accomplishing nothing. When he glanced up, he saw the strange vision again.

The woman out of time, out of place, dressed in dark, antique clothes, with two small children gathered around her skirts and a babe in arms. Her face was expressionless. Nick stared. She didn't look familiar. She wasn't one of his victims, a ghost of his dark past. He was certain. She wasn't his type. So why was he seeing her?

"Weird, huh," Tracy whispered.

Nick looked at her curiously.

"That woman. She must be Amish or something."

Nick nodded slowly. Yes, that would explain it. But, it still didn't explain why she was here. She was just sitting there, on a bench, and no one was doing anything for her.

He got to his feet and went to the dispatcher. "What's the story? Whey's she here?"

Schultz shook her head. "No one knows. She doesn't speak English. I know a bit of German, but I couldn't understand her at all."

Nick slapped the desk gruffly and went to the woman himself. He hated to display his multi-lingual abilities in front of the other officers. They'd made such a big deal out of it when Schanke had told them that he knew Chinese. Tracy, then when she'd still been mortal, had told them he also knew Latin. He couldn't honestly add medieval German to that list! Still, how could he turn his back on her? It was nearly midnight. Her children looked exhausted.

He motioned to Tracy. "Help me get her into a room."

Tracy smiled at her. The woman spoke then, and Nick whispered quietly. "Entschuldigun Sie, bitte," he said, motioning for her to follow. She got up, lifting the middle child as well and followed Nick, as the oldest girl clung to her skirt.

Tracy closed the door. Nick held out a chair for the woman. When he spoke to her, a look of relief spread across her face and tears overflowed. She spoke rapidly. Tracy watched, enthralled, as her partner conversed easily. Several officers peeked in the window curiously, but Tracy moved to block their view.

Nick leaned back in his chair and looked at Tracy. "You're right, Baby. They're Amish. She says her husband brought them in to town today to buy land. She was supposed to wait at the park for his return, but after ten hours, when he didn't come back, she was afraid something must have happened."

"Where did he go?" Tracy asked. "Maybe we should start there? This is more a missing person's report than homicide, isn't it?"

Nick shrugged. "We can only hope. But I can guarantee there isn't another cop on the force who can talk with her. And I'm not prepared to explain how I know a language that is basically dead outside of the Amish community."

"So what do we do?"

Nick heaved a sigh. The woman had no money. Her husband had carried all of it. She had no friends, no place to go. "I can put her up at the loft for a few days," he said.

"Yeah, right. A woman and three kids in your bachelor pad. I'm sure she'd like that."

"I won't stay there," he said. "I'll bunk at the Raven."

Nick spoke to the woman then and told her his plans. She nodded quickly, wiping her tears away. Something she said bothered Nick. Tracy watched him flinch, saw the look of disbelief. She was beginning to understand him a lot better now. The woman had begged God's blessing on him.

"So what's the story, Nick," several others called out as he opened the door. Nick ignored them and went to make some calls. Tracy grinned at them.

"She's lost. We'll help her find her way home. Don't you guys have work to do?"

"But how-?" they asked.

She ignored them. "Say, little man," she said to the boy. "I bet you're hungry. And I know just where to find a cookie." She retrieved the yellow envelope from the trash, and took Nick's cookie from his desk as well. Showing them to the mother first, she saw the nod of approval, and gave one to each of the older children.

Nick first called Urs and asked her to toss some things for them into an overnight bag. Then he called Natalie and asked her if she'd get some groceries. Finally he herded Tracy, the mother and children into his Caddy.

AS he drove slowly towards the loft he wondered how was he always getting himself into these messes. The bet with Tracy regarding him and LaCroix would be much more difficult if he had to live with him. But the woman needed a place to stay. How could he put her up in a motel, when he didn't know what had happened to her husband? Hopefully, Urs would have all the green bottles concealed.

The woman looked frightened as he pulled into the garage. His loft and the dark elevator was rather different from the typical Amish house, he acknowledged. He reassured her, and lifted her son into his arms. The boy looked about five years old, and was nearly sleepwalking.

Inside, he shifted the boy to one hip, and pulled sheets and a blanket from a closet. Tracy asked how she could help, and Nick told her where to find fresh bedding for his bed upstairs. The woman followed Tracy, helping her to make the bed, as she laid the baby on a blanket on the floor. Just as they finished, the lift mechanisms grunted to announce Natalie's arrival.

She carried two large sacks with her and set them on the table. The woman approached hesitantly. Nick introduced them, half in German, half in English. "Natalie, this is Mrs. Rachel Schloss."

Nat smiled at her warmly as she pulled the food items from the sack. Guessing that natural foods would be more appreciated than canned ones, her sack held an assortment of fresh fruits, vegetables, a package of hamburger, and a jug of milk. The woman smiled shyly. She took some apples and sliced them, pouring milk for the children and urging them to eat.

"They've been waiting for Mr. Schloss since noon. I don't think they've eaten a thing all day," Nick said.

Natalie continued to unload the sacks, flour, sugar, coffee... small amounts of all the staples she knew Nick never kept on hand. "Ask her if there is anything else she needs," Nat suggested.

Nick did, but the woman was nearly speechless. "Mr. Knight, you have done so much already," she replied in her own language. "But, I am putting you out of your home?"

He shook his head. "My father lives in town," he explained. "I will stay with him. And I will do all that I can to find your husband."

She nodded, turning away from him to hide the fresh tears that filled her eyes. Nick admired her strength and courage. She was lost, alone, penniless... a stranger in a strange land for modern Toronto was as strange to this Ontario native as her antiquated culture would be to any modern woman, and yet she was holding herself together.

Nick then showed her how to use his phone. He knew that it was not totally forbidden in their culture, only that phones were not allowed in the home. If they had one, it was installed in the barn and used like any other tool. It was to perform a task, not interrupt family life. But, she would need it to get in touch with him, and he might need to call her, as well. He showed her which preprogrammed buttons to use- one was the Raven, two was work, and three he set for his cellphone. Then he bid her goodnight.

Nick figured he'd better not just drop Urs off at the Raven with a suitcase without speaking first to LaCroix. He waited at the bar until he heard LaCroix's monologue end and music replaced his silken voice. Then Nick went inside the soundbooth without knocking.

LaCroix glanced up at him, his face carefully neutral.

"May Urs stay with me upstairs for a few days?" he asked, coming right to the point. He had to be getting back to work.

LaCroix lifted his eyebrows at his son while he considered the request. Nick hadn't asked if he could stay, just assuming that he was welcome. LaCroix smiled. His protégé was a little thickheaded and presumptuous at times. Still, he loved this confident, princely bearing. He nodded his assent.

"But, tell me, Nicholas, what is wrong with your loft?"

Nick glanced downward, the hesitation implying that LaCroix was not going to approve of his answer. He waited, wondering if Nicholas's generally defiant behavior would return.

"I have a young mother and her children staying there," Nick answered softly.

LaCroix snorted. Nicholas would expect no less.

"But only for a while. She was desperate and her husband is missing."

"This new penchant of yours for collecting strays needs to stop, my son, before we run out of room. However, Caspian has chosen to adopt the young Trevor."

Nick heaved a sigh of relief. "Will he be a good master?" Nick hoped he hadn't saved Trevor from death by starvation, only to have the young vampire regret it for eternity.

LaCroix glared at his son. "Caspian is an old friend, Nicholas. He will protect his fledgling with his life and teach him our ways. That is enough."

Nick held his master's stare evenly. A heavy sadness filled him. Even after all these years, LaCroix didn't have a clue. It was all about dominance and control with him, not friendship. Nick blinked, and turned to leave.

"Nicholas," LaCroix said suddenly.

Nick stopped, his back still turned to him.

LaCroix arose from his chair and came to stand behind him. He placed a hand on Nick's shoulder tentatively. "I believe Trevor will be... happy... with Caspian."

Nick nodded, his throat feeling strangely constricted. "Thanks," he muttered. Then he left.

LaCroix stared at the closing door as the emptiness left in the wake of his son's departure filled the room. He smiled as he reflected on the upcoming nights, with Nicholas living again under his roof, even if only temporarily. Perhaps, Nicholas would not give up bringing home strays? Then LaCroix could look forward to more days spent in his company!

Nick smiled at Urs. "It's okay," he told her. He brought her up and unlocked the door for her. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, a promise of more to come at the end of his shift.

"Good night, Nicky," she whispered.

He grinned. "Until later, then."

"So, how to we go about finding Mr. Schloss?" Tracy asked, as they returned to the precinct.

Nick shrugged. He didn't have a clue. They could call the hospitals and notify the police department. A strangely dressed man with a beard but no mustache, maybe carrying a large sum of money and speaking imperfect English should stick out like blood on new-fallen snow. And he had come to buy land, supposedly, so they could contact the title office, the deeds department, the banks... but Nick felt a suspicion that Mr. Schloss might have met up with a swindler, and following those logical leads would prove fruitless. He told Tracy as much.

"So, we can have day shift run down those leads, anyway," Tracy said, learning from Nick how to pass on unwanted tasks. "After all, those places aren't open after hours."

He grinned at her. She was a quick learner. "Sounds good to me."

The police precinct was even worse than Nick had imagined. His coworkers were so impressed with his ploy-lingual abilities, and they would not let it drop. Finally, he'd had to hypnotize a handful of officers and "unimpressed" them. Tracy's giggling hadn't helped much. He was working on a killer headache, and bottled blood was not going to fix it. Not this time.

Reese wasn't happy about the way Nick had just whisked Mrs. Schloss off, either. Until her husband turned up dead, it wasn't Nick's case. Nick tried to point out that her children were exhausted, and no one else could communicate with her. Reese just shook his head, doggedly determined to make Nick see that procedures existed for reasons. Nick was getting nearer to losing control all together. Finally Tracy came to his rescue.

"Um, Captain? Can I talk to you, privately?" she asked, slipping in to his office. "It's really important."

Nick took the escape she offered, and fled to the quiet solitude of the locker room to drain the luke-warm flask he kept there. Although Tracy was too exuberant, and impulsive, and even childish at times, it was rather nice to have another vampire around.

Tracy grinned. She'd just spent fifteen minutes blabbing away without managing to say anything at all. Reese had been so confused, that he just nodded and agreed with whatever he thought she might possibly be saying. When she sensed that Nick was more under control, she smiled at her boss with relief. "Thanks, Captain. You've been a big help!"

Joe shook his head. Maybe he was coming down with something again? His head felt fuzzy. Something still seemed up with those two. What sort of games were they playing? Well, he'd been wanting them to develop a partnership....

"I just want to swing by the loft, before going home," Nick told Tracy later.

"Nick, it's late. Do you thing that's a good idea?"

"Hey, Baby. It's only late if you work the night shift. For the day crew, it's early. And she'll be up. She's expecting me."

Nick glanced at the sky before parking inside his garage. With Tracy along, he had better make sure to get home well before dawn. Not only could she not tolerate the sunlight, but also LaCroix would be sure to break a few bones if he was late. His.

He held the lift door for Tracy, then followed her into his loft. The usual sense of ownership was not there to greet him. It was still his place- his piano, his bike, his home entertainment center... but he wondered at the eagerness he felt to hurry "home" to LaCroix's... .

Two of the children were still sleeping. The baby was sitting on a quilt on the floor, playing contentedly with a string of wooden beads. She looked cleaned and dressed, and her easy smile suggested she was fed as well. Mrs. Schloss was in the tiny kitchen, kneading a lump of bread dough.

Nick smiled at the industrious woman. "Good morning, ma'am," he said. "How are you holding up?"

Her smile was shy and tentative. "Good morning, Mr. Knight," she replied. "The children are fine. They seem to think of this as a big holiday. I am afraid that they will miss the big city when we return."

"I'm sorry, but we haven't found anything yet."

She shrugged, blinking back moisture that filled her eyes. "I expected as much."

"Why?" he asked, surprised.

"If you had found anything, I think you would have come immediately, rather than wait until morning."

Nick nodded. She was right.

"Do you know of anyone to whom he might have told his plans? Perhaps where he used to work?"

Mrs. Schloss shook her head sadly. "I do not even know where he worked," she confessed. "He was very private. He never talked about it."

"Do you need anything?" Nick asked, changing the subject.

Mrs. Schloss shook her head. She divided the bread into loaves and set them on a pan to rise.

"Well, I'll be heading home then. Call me, if you need anything."

Tracy stood, smiling wistfully at the baby. "Cute kid," she said. "She's so quiet. They don't make babies like that much."

Nick waved to Mrs. Schloss as he hurried Tracy through the door.

"I can't wait for the weekend," Tracy said as they neared the Raven. "Do you think our tree will be okay?"

"I don't think we can go, Trace," Nick said.

"But you promised!"

"But, what about Mrs. Schloss? I can't just go off and leave her, can I?"

Tracy flopped on LaCroix's couch and pouted.

"What seems to be the problem?" LaCroix came into the living room to greet his children. "Cutting it close, aren't you, Nicholas?"

Nick had known he would say that. He was getting predictable. "I'm sorry, LaCroix," he said simply, diffusing the situation immediately.

"Nick promised he'd take me back to his cabin this weekend, and now he's reneging."

LaCroix turned to his son. He was looking forward to their absence this weekend as well, as he expected to spend the time with Natalie. "Nicholas, what has possessed you to break your word?" His tone of voice was slightly sarcastic. He was not above breaking his word if it suited him, but his son placed more value on honesty and other mortal virtues.

"Well, I can hardly go off and leave Mrs. Schloss alone, now can I?" Nick repeated angrily.

"Why not?"

Nick ignored the question for a moment. He flung open the refrigerator and took a bottle out. Hunger was making him irritable. That damn bet. Tracy wouldn't want him to blow her surprise. And he didn't especially feel like a knockdown fight anyway.

"Because," he answered, after he'd chugged some of the blood straight from the bottle more to irritate his master than because he was so ravenous. "She's all alone. Her husband's missing and she has no money, and she can't even ask for help."

"I will check in on her, Nicholas," LaCroix offered magnanimously.

Nick slowly lowered the bottle and stared at his master open-mouthed. "Why?"

LaCroix made a slight gesture that could have been shrug. He took the bottle from his son's hand and poured the remainder into a glass before handing it back to him. Nudging his speechless child aside, he took out a second bottle and poured one for Tracy.

"What do you want in return? How much will this cost me? Will you hurt her?" Nick's tone was accusatory.

LaCroix glared at him, allowing a slight golden glow to his eyes as a sign of his displeasure. Nick lowered his eyes, backing down.

"This will cost you nothing. Just go. Take Tracy and have a good weekend. You know, my son, that you should learn how to just accept a gift, graciously."

"I, I don't know what to say," Nick said awkwardly.

"Then say nothing!" LaCroix went towards his bedroom. He was trying. He was really trying to get along better with that child, but Nicholas was impossible. He hadn't been home five minutes before he fairly begged for a fight.

Nick followed his master into his room. "I'm sorry, LaCroix," he whispered. "I, I... you're right. I should just say, 'thank you'. Are you sure you don't mind though? I mean, she has three children. I know how much you hate kids."

LaCroix smiled to himself. This was much better. "I will... control myself... around her offspring, my son."

"Thank you. Good day, father."

"Good day," LaCroix replied. Nicholas smiled at him shyly, the same, broad easy smile that had first stolen his heart so many centuries ago. Suddenly he didn't see the moody, exasperating ex-crusader, but instead, the little five-year-old boy with the winning smile and honest affection. He pulled him into a quick embrace.

Nick returned the hug, hesitating before he pulled away. Something was up. The ancient was not behaving normally. But, Nick was too tired to figure it out now. He left to find his lover waiting for him in his home away from home.

Friday at last! The girls requested they take the Caddy this time, as they didn't want to stuff their quilt into the saddlebags. Nick didn't mind, although he put the tire chains in the trunk, just in case. It had snowed every night this week, and the back roads might be almost impassible.

Nick smiled, feeling contented, as he drove away from the city. Vachon sat up front with him. The girls had nothing else on their minds but their quilt lately. They sat in the back, embroidering away on the journey, unhindered by the dark or the bumpy ride. He caught snitches of their conversation, although mostly he just ignored it.

"See what Alma wrote?"

"She can write?"

"And Patrick's is surprisingly poetic. I didn't know he could be so sensitive."

"For a guy!"

And they tittered foolishly.

Vachon and Nick rolled their eyes in exasperation. Nick slipped into Latin to converse privately. Although Vachon had never been a man of faith, he had been raised Catholic, too. Urs's minimal knowledge of Spanish negated the use of Vachon's native tongue, so the uniting language of the medieval Christian church came in handy.

"I was thinking that maybe I would give the girls gifts this year, too," Nick said.

Vachon nodded. "Yeah, but like what? What did you have in mind?"

"I thought about giving Tracy a quilting frame, but she could really use it before Christmas," Nick replied, slipping in the Spanish word for quilt, since he couldn't think of the Latin one, if there was one.

"Si. But, we could have a gift exchange before Christmas. It doesn't really matter what day we chose. And just give the old man his on Christmas. That way he might not be so upset, like we weren't really observing a holy day or something."

Nick thought about it. Some cultures exchanged Christmas gifts earlier, and some later, although December the twenty-fifth was the most common.

"Hey, Knight. You and me... let's not exchange gifts, okay?"

Nick agreed. He was embarrassed that he hadn't even considered one for Vachon.

"So we should do it next weekend, then," Vachon thought aloud. "I have one week to come up with a great idea for Tracy. Got any ideas?"

Nick laughed. No wonder why Vachon seldom kept a relationship. Then he sobered as he recalled Tracy's advice two months ago, when he'd bought Urs the diamond bracelet at her prompting. "Tracy says: 'you should always get a girl a gift. Different gifts for every occasion. Flowers if you're sucking up for a date or apologizing for being a screw-up, candy for light romance, diamonds when you're dead serious.... Otherwise, a trinket- earrings or a bracelet, or something which says that you were thinking about her and that you care.'" He thought he was remembering it right, but Vachon looked more confused than before.

"Yeah, right," the Spaniard replied.

"So what did you ever give Urs," Nick asked.

Vachon wiggled his eyebrows suggestive. "Me," he said with a grin.

Nick was about to criticize him, when it struck him that he had often treated women much the same. As though gracing them with his physical self was enough. He had given Janette precious few gifts over time... but then, she seldom appreciated what he did give. And gifts for Natalie had consisted of flowers and cards. No, Nick was no model of sensitivity, either.

"But I guess girls are really more in to that emotional-mush stuff. I can do that, one day a year," Vachon said.

Nick laughed. Vachon had slipped more into his native Spanish. Latin just wouldn't suffice for such colloquialisms. If LaCroix could hear them now, wouldn't he just have a fit. He detested Nick's pronunciations, which was often referred to as "Church Latin," and varied greatly from the classical language of LaCroix's birth. This bastardized hodgepodge would horrify him.

The rural roads leading towards his cabin had been plowed and sanded, but at the entrance to his private drive, Nick had to stop and put the chains on. Even then, the Caddy slipped and spun its tires. If they got any more snow, the Caddy would not make it here next weekend.

The first thing Tracy did when they arrived was to water the tree and then light all the candles. She added some tinsel that she'd bought, and Urs added some glass ornaments. Nick shrugged. He knew the symbolism of the evergreen. It never died in winter, like deciduous trees. It was to remind the faithful that God is eternal. The candles were always a symbol of the True Light. But the tradition of adding ornaments and shoving the whole tree up an angel's skirt completely escaped his understanding.

Unpacking the trunk took much longer. That extra large space had been packed to the gunnels. The girls brought every piece of their quilt, rather than just a portion of it. They claimed they didn't know how much work they could get done this weekend, and they wanted to keep it all together. Then Nick had brought the electric keyboard, Vachon's folk guitar and the sleighbells for their rehearsals. And then there were the more mundane items, like several cases of blood. And the girls just sat on the couch with their embroidery, still chattering senselessly, as if they just expected him to unload it all. Nick would have anyway, but it annoyed him a little.

"Hey, Knight, got any place we can hang out, as long as they are preoccupied?" Vachon looked almost imploringly. Nick motioned to him and they slipped outside. The girls never even missed them.

"We don't have long before sunrise," Nick commented. "But I dug a tunnel from the shed to the cabin."

Vachon grinned. In the old days, such secret routes were not uncommon. Leave it to Nick to revive the custom. He looked around. The shed was simple. It contained mostly hand tools- the ax they'd used to chop the tree last weekend, leftover lumber from the cabin, a shovel... not much else. Nick lifted a board and caressed it. It wasn't oak or maple, but just sturdy pine. Still, it would make a lovely hope chest for Urs, and if he made the inner tray out of cedar, it would still smell nice inside and offer some protection from moths.

Hope chests were another ancient custom. He'd built one before, although he couldn't remember to whom he'd given it. He thought hard, straining, sensing a face just out of focus, but he couldn't place a name with it. He gave up with a shrug. It must have been from his mortal days. Those memories were probably gone for good. Still, it seemed odd that he could remember building the hope chest, but not the face of the person he gave it to.

Vachon had never built anything before. He wasn't much help, but he watched Nick intently, while feigning the irresponsible jerk persona that he had developed to perfection. Nick didn't feel hampered by the lack of power tools and electricity. Neither had existed when he'd learned to work with wood. For hours they hung out in the shed, as he sawed the boards and sanded them. They weren't consciously aware of the rising sun, although they both gave wide, toothy yawns with mounting frequency.

Suddenly Nick felt terror through the link and he dropped the saw. Vachon seemed to have felt something too, but he was more shocked than scared.

"What was that?" he asked blankly.

"The girls," Nick answered. "Something's frightened them."

He hurried to the trap door in the floor of the shed, concealed beneath a rusty, never-used lawnmower. Reaching out through the link he tried to learn what had them frightened. Tracy was too distraught to be much help, but Urs's feelings were clear. The sun was up and the boys were not home. She worried where they were.

It served them right, Nick thought smugly. They'd been so wrapped up in their project that they had ignored him completely and only just now noticed he was missing? He turned to Vachon.

"Sh-sh!" he said with a gesture. Mischief played on his face. Vachon grinned easily. If Knight wasn't worried, then everything was cool.

They moved through the tunnel, which didn't quite allow them to walk erect, and came up in the small, unfinished room that would one day be another bathroom. Nick closed the trap door and spread the throw rug over it neatly. Then he eased the door open. He wouldn't be able to sneak up on them entirely. As soon as Tracy calmed down a fraction she would sense his approach. He discerned where they were, then threw the door wide and flew into them, tackling them to the floor with a hoot of laughter, Vachon immediately behind him.

Urs laughed, trying to be a good sport and not let him know how worried she had been. Tracy was another matter. She was angry, and she didn't fight fairly when she was mad.

"Nick! You are despicable!" She swung a fist at him, which he ducked and captured easily. She brought her knee up sharply. It could have been painful, but Nick had anticipated her move and shifted slightly.

"Calm down, Baby," he teased, feeding her anger.

She squirmed furiously, unable to free herself. Besides being bigger and older, Nick was also better at the mind link and knew her next moves as soon as she did.

Nick taunted her, his fangs scraping along her neck sensuously. Vachon sat back and watched. It was rather erotic to see his lover and her brother like this. His turn would come. Tracy had more than enough energy and enthusiasm for two vampires.

Finally Tracy went still. She ceased her struggles and tried to get her anger under control, rather than continue to entertain her obnoxious older brother. Nick still kept her pinned. He licked at the wildly pulsing vein just beneath her ear.

"So, Baby," he whispered. "How come it took you until now to miss us?"

She looked at him, surprised.

"We were gone for hours. But you girls were so preoccupied that you didn't even notice when we left."

Urs gasped. "I'm sorry, Nicky. Was I ignoring you?"

Nick grinned at her, even as he held Tracy still. "Yes. You were."

"Nick, this quilt is important, and I have a lot of work to do," Tracy complained.

"That's okay," he said. "So Vachon and I went out. Now we're back. And now I think it's time for bed."

Tracy hadn't moved, yet Nick still did not release her. "Fine. Bedtime," she agreed. "Will you get up now?"

"Say "please."

"No!"

Nick licked her neck again. He grinned as the golden lights of desire filled her eyes. He nibbled on her earlobe. "Say, "pretty please!""

Tracy squirmed uselessly. Then she shouted out the childish phrase. "Pretty please, you brat, now let me up!"

Nick got off her in a flash and helped her to her feet. Urs had filled four goblets and offered one to each of them. "May we get our project finished, without ignoring you boys again," she said by way of a toast.

"Here, here," Vachon agreed.

Tracy glared at both of them. Then she grinned. "To immature boyfriends who can't deal with a little competition from a quilt!" Then she tossed down her drink.

Nick savored the blood. Urs's eyes were golden now, and he sensed her mounting desire. Definitely bedtime.

Natalie pulled her car keys from her purse before stepping outside. Even though she'd had to work overtime tonight, the sun was still a long way from rising. Winter could be so depressing.

On the other hand, winter was a good time to visit a vampire. She glanced at her watch and tried to recall when sunrise would occur. With Nick she could just pick up some videos and drop in unannounced, but would she be able to do the same thing with LaCroix? What sort of movies would he enjoy? Somehow, she figured that whatever she selected, there was a good chance he would not have seen it. So what did he do for fun?

Pick on Nick came to mind. Only, Nick was at his cabin again this weekend with Tracy. She wondered why LaCroix hadn't set up a date with her yet, or was he just going to sit at home and mope about? If anyone needed cheering up, he did. She turned the car around and drove back to the all-night gas station for a video.

Shortly, she arrived at the Raven. It was still so strange to see it... a burned out shell of its former self. But tonight it was filled with workmen. Patrick held the door for her as she entered.

"Busy place," she said, looking around appreciatively. There were still the same workers she'd seen all week, but now there were others- hired professionals. The noise and activity outputs had greatly increased.

"Aye, it is," Patrick replied. "Boss wants to reopen by New Year's. It's amazing what you can get done when you've got money to speak for you."

"Where is he?"

Patrick pointed towards the ceiling. "Away from all the noise."

She smiled and left.

LaCroix did not look surprised to see her, she thought, mildly irritated. "Am I getting that predictable?" she asked.

"No, my dear. I heard you approach," he said.

She relaxed. Damn those vampire senses... so much for ever being able to surprise him. "I brought a video... I wondered, if you hadn't made any plans yet, that maybe you'd like to watch it with me?"

"What is the movie?" he asked, trying not to sound too disdainful. This was something she and his son had frequently engaged in. LaCroix seldom watched videos.

Natalie grinned mischievously. Her heart rate increased and a delicious blush was staining her cheeks. LaCroix suspected the movie wasn't one to be viewed placidly. This could be prove interesting, after all.

"Tell me, doctor... is this one of your Friday Night traditions?" He stepped closer, leaning over her to catch her scent. Inhaling deeply, he let his breath trail over her neck.

Natalie laughed softly. "No, Lucien. I, uh, haven't watched this type of show before... ever."

Good, he decided. If adult movies were not something she'd shared with Nicholas, then he was perfectly willing to start this new custom. "Perhaps, you would like a glass of wine, before we start the show?"

She nodded, feeling weak-kneed and scared, yet strangely exhilarated.

He poured her a rather large glass, and refilled his own, before taking the video from her. "Deep Fang" had more X's on it than a train yard, he noticed with amusement. Vampire movies were often rather amusing... how much more so this mortal interpretation of immortal sex?

Nick wasn't able to sleep. Urs was soft in his arms, the pleasant thoughts he vaguely sensed from her dreams were soothing, and yet, his mind was busy. Too much was going on all at once. Christmas was approaching, and he felt anxious. What would LaCroix do when presented with the quilt? Would he tear it to shreds in a rage? If he was angry with Tracy for the gift, no doubt he would find some way to blame it on Nick. But why had he encouraged Nick to go away this weekend? He hated mortals, and mortal children were the worst. Why would he offer to check in on Mrs. Schloss? He had assured Nick that he had no designs on her children. Then he had intimated that Nick would "owe him one". Nick was certain he must owe him about a million and one by now, actually. He'd rescued LaCroix twice in his life, while LaCroix was always there to lend him a hand, whether it was needed or not. So, what was the ancient up to now?

He closed his eyes again and tried to relax. Opening himself to his sire, he tried to sense him. The distance interfered. Although LaCroix could always seem to sense him, Nick found it difficult. He felt strangely melancholy. But was it his emotion? Or LaCroix's?

Natalie couldn't remember ever blushing as much as she had tonight. The vampire video had moved instantly into the bedroom, and although the scenery changed, the activity did not. She never did discover if there was plot. And it didn't help that she found the male actors dressed only in fake fangs to be incredibly sexy. She stole a sideward glance at LaCroix again. He was studying her intently.

His gaze was unreadable. There was neither the hint of a smile nor a scorn. Only a faint gold fleck in his sea blue eyes spoke of the concealed emotion. Natalie smiled tentatively.

"We don't have to watch the rest of it," she suggested softly.

"Indeed," was all he said, and yet she caught a glimpse of fang tips when his lips parted. Natalie felt flushed and her heart beat faster.

"Perhaps you would prefer to discover the errors of the film for yourself," he said. His voice sounded strange. Natalie swallowed. Was he referring to what she thought he was? But Nick had always shied away from intimacy. Was the ancient vampire flirting?

"I...um...," she stammered. It would be interesting. In fact, a small part of her had been hoping that they would move towards a more fulfilling relationship quickly. But she still was alert enough to sense the danger.

LaCroix moved closer, slowly. His arm tightened around her shoulder. His head bent, nearing her. The hair on her neck raised as the vampire drew near. She closed her eyes. He wasn't compelling her. She still had power over her own reactions. But she wanted him. Tilting her face to meet his kiss, she opened her arms to embrace him.

His lips were cool on her warm face. Her fingers caressed his cheek, moving behind his neck to weave through the short-cut hair and hold him close.

Slowly, intricately, as though they were enacting a precise dance, their actions brought them closer towards the inevitable. Their clothing was removed a piece at a time, and kisses placed on newly awakened skin. Natalie was not some blushing beginner or passive receiver, but asserted and maintained herself as his equal. For every action he began, she mirrored or improved. The passion built steadily, even as Natalie found release, she felt him bring her still to a higher level. Somehow they floated from the living room until she found herself in his bed, with him inside her, and above her, and his arms around her. Everywhere was Lucien, her lover and protector. She felt incredibly vulnerable, and yet, in his arms, she felt safe.

This was not love. She refused to call it that, refused to say or even think those three little words. But this was sex at its best. This was passion and moonlight, romance and desire. Lucien continued, bringing her again to that moment of ecstasy only to raise her desire once more. She was beginning to feel a little tender. Never before had she experienced such a moment. Still, he was firm and hard, for he had not yet found his release. She arched her back and pressed herself closer to him, tightening her lower muscles to bring him exquisite pleasure.

His face was more open than she had ever seen. His eyes were completely golden now, with small flecks of red radiating from the iris. He nuzzled her neck, even as his breathing became hard and erratic. "Natalie," he whispered, almost pleadingly.

Part of her began to worry. If he asked her now to do anything, she would agree, even to coming across. But it wasn't what she had planned on. She wasn't ready!

"Natalie, I won't hurt you," he whispered hoarsely. His eyes were clenched shut, an expression of exquisite pain on his face. "I must... have your blood. I will not harm you," he promised again.

Should she trust him? He was many things, but he had never been a liar. He was too powerful, he didn't need to. He could take her blood anytime he wished. She knew she was no match for him. Turning her head to the side she exposed her throat to him. It was a moment of trust.

LaCroix kissed her throat. She felt his teeth, felt more on fire than she could have dreamed. "Please," she heard herself beg. "Take me!"

For a moment she gasped as his teeth bit into her, and then she exploded in pure rapture at the moment that he too, found release. Her hot blood spurted into his mouth, his cold seed filled her. For a moment, she felt she knew him and understood him. Then, he was already withdrawing from her throat, and lightly he licked the small wounds until they closed. She felt strangely empty, yearning for him to bite her again.

LaCroix was speechless. Natalie had not known that he would need to bite her! He had just assumed that she and Nicholas, at some time, had dallied together. Although he never sensed his son's aura from her, he truly did not see her that often. She knew too much about vampires, but apparently, Nicholas had not been entirely to blame. He felt oddly humbled that he had been her "first".

Mortals and vampires didn't often dally together. It was far too risky for the mortal; only an ancient could be trusted, and few of them cared to spend any time among mortals. Still, Nicholas had fallen in love with one mortal after another. That he hadn't discussed this with Natalie further convinced LaCroix that he had misread their relationship. Perhaps, they truly had been just friends?

He opened his eyes then and gazed at this unique mortal woman. Her dark eyes were smoky, still filled with the last memories of the passion they had just shared. Her lips were full from his kisses, her flesh still wonderfully warm and alive. She did not seem encumbered with guilt or other useless mortal emotion. She returned his gaze, her expression unreadable.

"Thank you, Lucien," she whispered.

He smiled. He was getting hungry, and a little sleepy, but he wasn't quite ready to end this little foray. What did one do with a mortal after making love?

"Would you like to try out my new hot tub?" he asked casually.

She looked surprised. "You have one? Where?"

LaCroix stood with easy grace and helped her to her feet. She seemed a little uncomfortable with her nakedness, and she looked around for her clothes. "Don't," he said gently, not wanting to offend her with a command. She was not a child to be ruled.

"But, I am a little cold," she said. She extended her forearm to show the pimpled flesh.

He nodded in understanding, as he took his own robe from a chair and helped her to slip it on. Then he tugged on his pajama bottoms. Natalie followed him into his kitchen. She glanced at the discarded clothing that littered his living room and felt a blush. Part of her wondered why he hadn't put on his shirt, as well. The firm flat muscles of the Roman soldier immortalized at the prime of his life were stirring her desire again. Only the soreness she felt kept her from acting on the impulse.

"I have very little food here for you, Natalie," he was saying, "and I don't know your likes and dislikes. Perhaps you will inform me?"

She smiled at the items in his cupboards, which closely resembled Nick's. Cookies, chips, coffee, crackers... nothing that could really make a meal... until she saw the chocolate eclairs! Her face lit up and she pounced on the package, looking greedily for an expiration date.

LaCroix laughed softly. "I take it that was a successful choice?"

"Absolutely. I could live on these!"

She made herself a cup of instant coffee in his mic while he poured himself his beverage of need. She wolfed down two eclairs indelicately. Then, taking her coffee, she followed him down the hall, past his bedroom, past the guestroom Nick often used... to a small den at the rear. Steel shutters made the room black as night, but at the flip of a switch it was cast in soft, diffuse lighting. The room was a veritable jungle of potted plants, and just as he had promised, a large hot tub took up most of the floor space. Shortly, soft mood music played in the background.

LaCroix shed his pajama bottoms and slipped gracefully into the hot tub, extending a hand for her. Natalie stepped out of his robe and into his arms easily. The water was hot, making her skin pink at once, and yet it was nothing compared to the warmth assaulting her from the inside. LaCroix pulled her to sit between his legs, she leaned back, her head resting on his shoulder. Life was just about perfect.

"So, did you learn anything interesting tonight?" Nat asked suddenly.

LaCroix breathed in deeply. The soft sound she heard was very much like the contented purr of a cat. "You are a fascinating mortal, Miss Lambert," he said.

She smiled and snuggled a little closer to him. "I meant about your show. I heard your part of the broadcast, but if there were any call-ins, I missed them."

LaCroix was silent for a time. She wondered if he was even going to answer, but she just waited patiently. After six years around Nick, she was getting used to men who blanked out of this century from time to time.

"No," he said then, a world of sadness poured into the short word.

She still didn't have any advice for him. She could tell him to be less physically abusive, but knew that wouldn't be well received. At least, not yet. Maybe when he knew her better, trusted her more, she would be able to do something about that. "Why do you care so much," she asked instead.

LaCroix was surprised. "About my son? Surely doctor, you do not have to ask such a question."

"But I do. I mean, You aren't that possessive of Janette. And surely in 2000 years you've had other vampire children. Why does Nick mean so much to you?"

LaCroix eased away from her and got out of the tub. It was about time, Natalie realized sadly, as her fingers were all shriveled and she felt faintly dizzy from the heat. Still, she missed the sensation of a naked vampire behind her. She stepped out onto the bathmat and pulled LaCroix's robe back on. She could probably fit in one more eclair before going to sleep.

"Will you be spending the day," LaCroix asked.

Nat listened carefully. Was he hoping she would stay? Did he care? Or was he simply being polite. No, LaCroix was many things, but polite wasn't one of them.

"Yes," she said decisively. "If you don't mind."

Together they returned to the kitchen. Apparently LaCroix also felt the need for "a nightcap" before bed. As Natalie devoured the sugar pastry, he paced restlessly behind her.

"It is a very long story," he whispered. "And one that Nicholas no longer even remembers."

She swallowed hard. Nick forgot something? Why? Had the ancient hypnotized him, removing the memories? "The amnesia!" she said then. "You didn't tell him everything, did you."

"There are some memories that are not worth recalling," he answered. "And I will share them with you now, but you will not ever share them with Nicholas. Is that clear?"

His voice had a dangerous edge to it. Natalie thought quickly. Could she keep a secret from Nick? Why not? He certainly kept plenty from her. And if it was something he should remember, then she should not be the one to tell him. She nodded her agreement.

"I met Nicholas a long, long time ago," LaCroix whispered. His eyes went unfocused as he traveled back through the memories. Natalie smiled. Of course, he met Nick almost 800 years ago, since Nick had been a vampire about that long.

"He was such a tiny child, and so vibrant..."

He had met Nick while he was still a child! Nick did not know that! He once told her that he met LaCroix on the night that he was brought across, and he said that even before a shooter's bullet had damaged his brain and left him missing memories. She was instantly curious and kept quiet as the ancient vampire even seemed to forget she was there.

The early morning sun burned through his cloak, searing his flesh. He blocked out the pain as he searched frantically for cover. It had been a long, fruitless night and hunger had made him careless. Burying himself in the ground had not been successful- for the sheepdogs unearthed him and barked furiously, alerting their human masters to his presence. Lucius shook off the dogs, fleeing into the temporary shelter of a small woods, but it would not be enough once the sun was truly up.

The dogs gave up their chase when he no longer posed a threat to their herd. Lucius was fighting pain, hunger, exhaustion. He struggled to bury his vampire vision, which hampered his ability to see in the light of day. Up ahead was a small castle. The stone walls that surrounded and protected it were formidable. He would not be able to fly over them now. But the gates were open. Already a stream of peasants was moving about, beginning their tasks for the day.

Lucius looked for the standard that would tell him on whose land he trespassed. It wasn't one he recognized. This land was Brabant... a small, insignificant little country wedged between France and Germany. He wasn't even certain what language was spoken here. Well, Latin was still recognized everywhere, no thanks to those Christians who bastardized the language with their mispronunciations. Besides, he wasn't planning on an extended stay. He just needed shelter until nightfall, then a meal, and he could leave this place.

He drew his cloak more firmly about him and left the shelter of the woods. Already he could smell the acrid odor as his injured flesh burned and pealed, but thankfully, none of the peasants seemed to notice. Trying not to draw too much attention, he slipped through the crowd, through the gates of the castle, and then, keeping to the shadows, sought new shelter.

He dove into the first likely building he came to. It was a stables. The mixed smells of manure and hay assaulted his sensitive nose, but most of the animals were gone. The stable was largely empty. They should be gone for the day, and not return until nightfall. It was not the sort of lodgings he preferred, but it would have to suffice in a pinch.

The thatch roof was not solid. Small shafts of light filtered through. He had better not sleep up there. Grabbing fresh armfuls of straw, he selected a stall that did not smell like it had been used lately. After arranging his bedding, he crawled inside of the pile and fell into deep slumber. His injuries would heal slowly since he hadn't fed, but he was too weary to care.

But before dark, he was discovered.

One man had returned early leading a lame horse. He must have seen some part of Lucius not covered with straw, for he wielded a pitchfork and thrust it into his leg while shouting for help.

The vampire awoke with a roar of pain and rage. He would have drained the first man, except that the crowd of angry peasants now was too numerous for him to handle, especially in his weakened state. He wasn't sure what his best defense would be at this point. A hangings was such a nuisance... but it was an escape, of sorts.

They shouted at him, demanding something, but the language was not entirely clear. It sounded like a dialect of French. He would probably have been able to understand it better, if he weren't injured. The pain and hunger were driving him beyond rational thought. Soon, he would run on instinct alone. The first man held him pinned with the pitchfork. Lucius grabbed at the tines, striving to pull them free, but at the moment, the peasant was the stronger of the two. Lucius clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep from revealing his nature to the growing mob.

Suddenly, the crowd parted. Lucius looked, expecting to see some one in charge. Instead, a small child entered. He was very tiny, barely as tall as the thighs of the men he faced. He wore a white tunic and leggings, with gold braid, yet the knees of his hose were charmingly dirt-stained. His head was a mass of golden ringlets. His child's voice was angry and authoritative as he shook his tiny fist.

Most of the crowd drew back, humbled by the child, but the man with the pitchfork did not immediately obey.

The child shouted at him fiercely. The peasant reluctantly pulled the pitchfork from Lucius's leg.

The vampire clenched his jaw, concealing fangs from the mob, but he wasn't able to stifle the moan of misery.

At once the tiny boy knelt beside him. He touched his face tenderly and spoke.

Lucius tried to concentrate. His name.. the boy was asking for his name. "Lucius," he spat between gasps of pain.

"You see," the boy said to the crowd. "He knows the language of the church! He is one of God's children, and you would harm one who might wear the face of our Lord!"

The big peasant with the pitchfork was not impressed. "Pray for him then, my lord. If he is not a thief, then may God answer your prayer. Heal him, like you healed Simon's wife!"

"You are a fool, Etienne. God heals, not me. And He heals as He pleases, not according to the whims of men. But I will pray for him, as I pray for you."

Then the child laid his small, warm hands on the gaping, bleeding wound in Lucius's thigh and prayed. The vampire closed his eyes and endured the ordeal. But something was different. The child did not hurt him. His leg did heal. Of course, vampire wounds healed themselves, but he had not fed. His burns from the morning were still painful. Still, as the child prayed, the bleeding stopped, the wound healed, and the pain was gone. Even the burns, which the mortals had not known to exist, were gone.

The peasants all knelt then. "It is a miracle!" they cried. "The child is God's servant! Bless me, my lord!"

The child wiped his hands, now red with Lucius' blood, on his already dirty hose. "Go home. All of you. Etienne, help me bring this man inside. He must have nourishment."

Etienne did as the small child ordered. Lucius hesitated only a moment. He was angry with the child. He was tempted to drain him, for daring to pray over him. But, the child was too small for much of a meal, and somehow... ever since the prayer, Lucius was no longer even hungry. He was tired, however. If the child were going to grant him a place to stay, then perhaps Lucius should accept it, at least for now.

Etienne hauled him to his feet and slung one arm around him. The child did likewise on the other side, which almost made Lucius laugh. The child was far too small to be anything more than an hindrance.

"He is heavy," Etienne groused.

"Oui, let it be your cross to bear, Etienne. If you had not hurt him, he could walk."

Lucius was feeling strangely warm. It was not a warm night. But there was warmth from this child. He felt it in his hand, and the warmth spread up his arm and throughout his body, but it did not hurt. It was soothing.

"What is your... name... child," Lucius asked.

The child looked up at him then and smiled.

Lucius could not breathe. It was not necessary for him to breathe, but the inability to draw in breath was still rather discomfiting. The child had a beautiful face. Large, clear blue eyes, a pale complexion, golden curls that seemed to glow in the moonlight, and a wide, honest smile. He was the most exquisite child Lucius could recall ever having laid eyes upon.

"My name is Nicholas Henri Robert de Brabant, but maman calls me "Nick"," he answered. "What is the rest of yours?"

"Just Lucius," he said. He changed his name from time to time, but he hadn't decided what name to go by here.

"'Lucius. It is like Lucien- the physician. La Croix of Etienne. I shall call you Monsieur LaCroix!"

The vampire laughed. It was an odd name for one of his kind, and yet, it appealed to his sense of humor. Yes, he would keep that name.

The front door of the keep opened as they drew near. Two servants gasped at the site of the small child. "My lord! Are you hurt!" The blood red stains were frightful looking against his white hose.

"No, no! I am fine. Fetch food and drink. I shall dine with our guest, Monsieur LaCroix."

Lucius was helped into a chair by the hearth. A small, comforting fire burned within, a few red coals and ash indicating that it had been lit for some time. Etienne bowed awkwardly before the child.

"My Lord," he said.

"You may go, Etienne. But you must confess to the priest for this. You should love your neighbor, not stab him with a pitchfork!"

"My Lord, forgive me," the man said. "Truly, it was your safety that drove me. I thought he might be a thief."

"It is not my forgiveness you need, Etienne. You should ask my guest."

Lucius contemplated draining this Etienne. Still, as the peasant asked for his forgiveness, he gave it, rather than endure another moment of this foolish Christian practice.

The boy came to stand in front of Lucius then, and placed his small hands on the vampire's knees. "How do you feel, Monsieur LaCroix? Should I send for a physician?" The child looked up at him with concern.

"No, Nicholas. I shall be fine."

He smiled again. That broad smile made Lucius smile as well.

A woman's voice called from the stairs as she descended into the great hall. "Nicky? Nicky, is that you, child? Where have you been?" she sounded concerned more than angry.

The child rolled his eyes, which made Lucius laugh. It seemed to be the only truly universal gesture. "Oui, Maman! I am home. Come meet our guest. Monsieur LaCroix has been sent to us."

Lucius noticed as the woman entered that she was large with child. She moved slowly, painfully. Her face was tired and drawn, and her hands were too thin. "Nicky!" she gasped, as she drew closer. "You are filthy! How can you entertain a guest like that? Where have you been?"

The child got up and pulled a chair over towards the fire. "Sit down, Maman," he directed, commanding her much as he had the peasants in the barn. "You should rest more."

She smiled wanly at Lucius as she sank into the chair. "Forgive my impertinent son," she said. "He is more than I can handle at times."

Lucius chuckled. "On the contrary, Madame. I find him utterly charming."

Nicholas grinned.

A servant brought in wine, bread, and hunks of cheese, setting the food on a platter within Lucius's reach. Lucius sipped at the wine for appearance's sake, and hoped the child wouldn't worry over his lack of appetite. Perhaps, if he kept the child distracted with conversation, he would not notice. The child was surprisingly easy to converse with. He was intelligent, and amazingly well educated for his young age. He knew Latin well, more than just the memorized prayers of his church, although his accent was deplorable. He'd been taught history, rhetoric, logic, and some philosophy as well. Lucius could not remember a time when he had enjoyed a conversation more.

The mother nodded periodically, listening but not participating. She wore a mother's face of pride and worry as she gazed lovingly upon her son.

While they spoke, the tables were set for the evening meal. A host of servants scurried about, placing the trenchers and wine goblets around. Lucius had assumed this was a very small, insignificant little castle, but the feast being prepared was anything but small. While part of him dreaded the ordeal of pretending to eat as he endured the noxious odors of the assorted foods, he was also interested to learn more about this strange place. In most homes, children were seen and not heard, and yet, this little boy seemed very much to be the lord of the manor.

Nicholas touched him again, placing his small hands on his knees. "Would you like to dine with us, monsieur, or would you prefer to be shown your room?"

"I am weary, Nicholas, but I believe that I shall dine with you."

Cw 09/18

"Nicky," the mother interrupted softly. "Perhaps you would please me by changing your soiled clothing before the meal?"

"Oui, Maman," he said agreeably. "Do not go away, monsieur! I shall return shortly," he called, as he raced up the stairs.

Silence settled in the great hall at the child's departure. Lucius looked around, eyeing the trappings. A crest and shield and tapestries covered the stone walls, adding warmth as much as ornamentation. The antlered heads of half a dozen large deer adorned the far wall.

"My husband fancies himself a great hunter," the woman said, breaking the silence.

Lucius looked at her. "Indeed. And where is he now, may I ask?"

She lowered her eyes. "You may ask, monsieur, but I may not answer. He is where ever he wishes to be, and he seldom chooses to inform me of that."

The main door banged open then, as a troop of men invaded the great hall. They were mostly young, although a few gray heads appeared in the throng, and they were laughing boisterously. Their clothing designated them as knights of this castle. They were employed by the lord to protect it from attack, and in exchange, they were fed and cared for. These knights were sweaty and dirty. A well-run castle will keep its knights in constant training, that they may be ever ready for battle, but since the woman had implied that her husband was often away, it amazed Lucius that this castle would have any kind of order at all. Who kept things running in the lord's absence? Was there a brother or uncle somewhere he had yet to meet?

Nicholas came running back down the stairs then. He had hastily changed into an outfit very much like the one he had removed, minus the dirt. While the white was a handsome color on him, with his fair coloring, it was quite ridiculous for a child. Lucius thought that black would be far more satisfactory, for it would conceal a lot of stains.

"Come, Monsieur LaCroix! You shall sit with me."

Lucius stood with surprising ease. Any residual pain from his injuries was gone. He wondered about this offer to dine with the child. Children were generally fed in the kitchen with the servants. But this boy led him to the center of the head table. Nicholas himself took the center chair, the one that was for the lord of the castle. LaCroix sat on his right, and his mother sat on his left. At one end of the table sat a young priest. The knights, ladies, and a few other adults gathered around the other tables and sat. The priest said a brief prayer. Still, no one spoke or ate. Nicholas stood on his chair and raised a goblet of wine.

"Monsieurs, mademoiselles, I would like you all to meet my guest, Monsieur Lucien LaCroix!"

They raised their goblets, one to every couple, and spoke a greeting, before drinking to the toast. Nicholas sipped the wine as well, then set the goblet down between him and Lucius. He sat then, and that seemed to signal the start of the meal. The conversations were loud and cheerful. Lucius could listen to any of them, or he could hear them all and remember them, to listen to later. He wasn't really interested in the other mortals, only intrigued at their relationship with the child. They all seemed to adore him. None seemed irritated to be ruled by a half-pint mortal. In fact, Lucius was convinced, that any one of them would lay down his life for the boy without hesitation.

Servants carried around trays laden with meats. Roast venison, peacock, salmon, and mutton were the main meal, with smaller platters of onions and potherbs. Apple pies, cheese, and cookies finished the meal. Lucius adeptly plucked small bites of food, pretending to eat while dropping it to the floor for the dogs. The wine he shared with Nicholas was eventually drained, although he was certain that he'd had precious little of it.

As the meal progressed, several topics were brought before the child. One knight wished to depart to visit his mother, whom he heard was ailing. Nicholas granted him leave. Another spoke of a forth-coming tourney that he wished to attend. Nicholas didn't answer immediately, but scowled in thought. Lucius wondered what went through the child's head. Tourneys were outlawed by the church, but were very popular and well-attended.

"I will not give you permission to break the law," the child answered. "But I wish you to travel to Libeux to make some purchases for me. What you do with your time while you are away is your affair."

The knight nodded, struggling to keep a sober expression while his eyes were filled with merriment. "Thank you, my lord," he said.

More problems were brought before the child. He listened and answered each with amazing intelligence and wisdom, as the servants removed the last of the courses from the tables. The night grew late. The fire was dying and no one added another log. The child's eyes grew too heavy. He leaned his cheek against a small hand, struggling against his nature.

The mother spoke then. "Please, if there is nothing urgent, will you excuse us?"

The guests nodded, smiling at the tiny master as they drifted away from the table. Some remained in the great hall, drinking mugs of ale before going to bed. The mother stood and tried to rouse her son. "Come, Nicholas. Come to bed."

The child closed his eyes, displaying for perhaps the first time that night his childishness. He ignored her pleas and she was much too far in her pregnancy to carry him.

Lucius stood then and lifted the boy in his arms. The boy was surprisingly light. His intelligence had so overwhelmed the vampire that he'd forgot how small the boy was. "Tell me where to take him," Lucius said.

She led upstairs and showed him to the room Nicholas occupied. She pointed to another across the hall. "You may sleep there tonight," she said, before leaving.

Lucius carried the boy inside and started to lay him down. Nicholas, however, chose that moment to wrap his arms more securely around his neck. So the child wasn't really asleep. For some reason, that amused the vampire.

"Come, Nicholas. It is time for bed," he admonished, and he tried to lay the boy down again.

The child's arms tightened again, and his heart rate elevated. Lucius listened, curiously. Until now, the child had appeared confident and commanding, but suddenly he was frightened little boy, clutching to the neck of a stranger. "What is it?" Lucius asked softly.

"Don't go, Monsieur LaCroix? Will you... would you... stay with me until I go to sleep?"

Lucius smiled. So this brave little man was afraid of the dark. He considered the boy's request for a minute. He hadn't fed in more than thirty-six hours. That should mean that it would not be safe to stay near the sweet scent of child's blood, but Lucius did not feel hunger. In fact, he did not want to leave the child, either. The child's hands were warm, and they warmed the vampire with his a touch.

"I will stay," he answered.

The child hugged him then, and placed a kiss on his cheek. He loosened his hold and allowed Lucius to set him down. He did not, however, move to undress himself. Lucius removed his shoes, his hose and the layers of clothing that the current styles dictated, until the child wore only a thin chemise. Lucius kicked off his own shoes and lay down on the bed. Nicholas curled up against his side, his head rested on his shoulder, and one small hand grasped a fistful of his shirt and held it tightly.

Lucius patted the boy's back, and brushed his hair lightly out of his face. Slowly, the child's breathing slowed and Lucius suspected he was asleep. Still, the vampire remained. This bed was very comfortable. He didn't understand his attraction to the child, but he wanted to stay here for now. And Lucius always did exactly what he felt like doing at any given moment.

***

Natalie was so tired, she could barely open her eyes, but the story had captivated her. Lucien would grow silent for long intervals, and then his rich voice would resume the narrative. She suspected that he did not tell her everything he remembered, but shared the highlights. He was such a private person most of the time. She was grateful for whatever he was willing to tell her.

"So, they thought Nick was a healer, because he had healed a vampire?" she asked incredulously.

LaCroix just nodded.

"But, of course you healed. You would have healed without his prayers."

He didn't tell her that he hadn't even started to heal from the burns he'd received that morning, because of his hunger. He didn't tell her that Nicholas had healed him completely, not just from the stab wound in his leg, or the burns, but from the hunger as well. He wouldn't tell her, because she was a scientist and she wouldn't believe. But also, he didn't believe it either. He didn't understand it. He only knew that it had happened. From that first meeting, Nicholas had become someone very important to him. He was just as smitten as the knights and servants of the castle in Brabant. He had known he would lay down his unlife, if need be, for this one child.

LaCroix stood, and pulled Natalie to her feet. "This is my guest room," he said, indicating the door with a gesture. "And this is mine. Where would you be most comfortable?"

"Hm," she said sleepily. Alone in a strange bed, with cold satin sheets and steel shuttered windows, or cuddled up next to a Roman god? "With you," she said.

LaCroix did not answer, but his arm around her tightened slightly. They were both too tired to renew their passion for now, but as she lay beside him, her arm around his cold, hard chest, her hair a tangled mess beneath his chin, they both fell at once into peace-filled slumber.

Something cold brushed up against Natalie, disturbing her sleep. She shivered slighting and pulled the satin comforter up under her chin more snugly. Through the dreamy-haze of her sleepy thoughts she wondered where she was, as cold and satin were not part of her memories. She forced one eye open.

The room was too dark. She couldn't see a thing, but the strangeness of it all reminded her that she had not gone home this morning. She was sleeping in LaCroix's bed. It was his cold body stealing the warmth from her. She rolled over and smiled at the sleeping vampire.

His pale face was relaxed. The cold patrician features were neither sneering nor scornful, but flawlessly smooth. His long, Roman nose, the strong jaw and firm mouth looked oddly youthful in slumber.

Her mind whirled with questions. Apparently, it had been safe enough to sleep with a vampire. But was it safe to wake up with one? Would he wake up fully conscious and in control? Or would he be more like Nicholas- running on instinct alone for many dangerous minutes?

Maybe, it would be a good idea to slip from the bed and fix herself some breakfast, rather than wait and find out. Slowly, quietly, she eased out from under the vampire's arm and rolled off the edge of the bed. She paused, watching him, but he did not stir. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dark. She made out the lumpy form of the borrowed bathrobe on the floor and pulled it on. Then she wandered into the kitchen.

There was still one more eclair... but a steady diet of the sugary pastry was neither filling nor appetizing. She pulled open a few more cupboards. He really did not have much to offer! Maybe, she should make a small grocery list... assuming that she was welcome to stay again.

She checked the time. It was still an hour until sunset. No doubt LaCroix would sleep until then. She made herself at home in the guest shower, so as not to disturb him, then pulled on last night's less than fresh-looking clothes. She'd swing by her apartment first, then the 7-11, and return, possibly even before he awoke. But just in case, she had better leave him a note. Natalie didn't feel like trust had yet been developed; she didn't want him second-guessing all her moves, nor did she want to be worrying about what he might think in each little situation. She felt like she was dating a time bomb. It was kind of exciting, in a scary sort of way.

Fishing a pen and paper from her purse, she deliberated how to word it. Keep it short and sweet. She simply wrote where she was going and when she thought she would return. Then she put it on the kitchen table, weighted in place with an empty bottle. Hopefully, he would see it before he became too concerned. Then she closed the door softly behind her.

Rachel scrubbed the windows vigorously. The baby had been crying for hours. She wasn't hungry, or wet, or tired, or sick, although her nose was running. Rachel had rocked and cuddled her for more hours than she'd ever had time to do before, and all to no avail. Still Mary cried. Rachel was losing her patience and decided to take out her frustrations on the window.

Mr. Knight kept a fairly clean house. Most of the surfaces were spotless, if not very attractive. He used too many dark, drab colors in his house. One might wonder if he had been raised Amish! But his windows were filthy. He must not look out of them very often.

Sarah and Rueben were lazily watching that television set again. It was forbidden by Amish rules, but what else were they supposed to do? Rachel had left Sarah's schoolbooks home, as they weren't supposed to have been gone this long. Rueben had no chores here- the cows, chickens, and her small garden were a world away. And so they watched.

The program didn't make much sense, since it was in English. They could flick the channels around and get shows in French, and even some in Spanish. Still, they preferred the brilliantly colored animated shows, which seemed to be more action than words, anyway. They would miss it when they left, and that would be their punishment. The taste of the forbidden and the desires it fed.

Rachel had made more bread. She had washed all the bedding, and wiped down his unusual steel shutters. She was running out of ideas on how to occupy herself. Where was that husband of hers!! What would she do, if he did not return? Where would she go?

The phone rang, disturbing her thoughts. She waited and listened. Mr. Knight had told her to let it ring four times, to listen to the voice of the caller, and to pick up only if it was he or his father. The ringing made Mary cry even louder. Now the baby was screaming, her fine, baby locks were plastered to her face with perspiration and her eyes looked just a little bright. Had she worked herself into a fever?

The ringing stopped. Then she heard the voice speak. It was a deep, handsome voice. And it was speaking to her.

"Good evening, Mrs. Schloss," it said in Old German. "This is Lucien LaCroix. I believe my son mentioned I might be calling."

She lifted the telephone and held it tightly as she hurried with it into the bathroom and shut the door to get away from Mary's noise. "Yes, Mr. LaCroix! I am here."

The voice grunted a bit disdainfully. He sounded like an older man, and in deed, his son was older than Rachel. He must have forgotten what squalling babies were like. "Do you require anything?" he asked.

"I am fine, Mr. LaCroix. The children are fine. We have enough food for another day, I think. Would you have heard if there was news on my husband?"

"No. I have not heard a thing," he snapped. Then he calmed himself. It was not this woman's fault that he loathed mortals. The mortal police captain would not contact him regarding a case. And his mortal lover had slipped out on him, treating him like a one-night stand. LaCroix was understandably irritated this evening, but none of that was Rachel's fault. He had promised his son he would look after her. He had better make sure that she did not complain to Nicholas about him.

"Is something the matter with the child? Does she cry like that often?" he inquired, trying to make pleasant conversation.

Rachel sniffed, wiping back sudden tears. She was so tired. Worry, boredom and stress was making her faintly ill. "No, Mr. LaCroix. She is usually such a good baby! I don't know what is wrong with her."

"I see," he said. Then he felt a glimmer of excitement. Perhaps the doctor should look at the child? Yes, that would be the mortal thing to do. And he would have to come along, as interpreter. Then he would have a reason to contact the coroner and let her know of his displeasure. "I will ask Nicholas's doctor to come and see the child. We will be there within the hour."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. LaCroix!" Rachel exclaimed, ashamed of herself at her unrestrained enthusiasm.

The line went dead. The phone made an annoying buzz and she returned it to its cradle. Mary's sobbing was softer now, her voice sounding hoarse. Rachel scooped her up and held her. The promise of help had given her new strength. She could comfort the baby a little longer, for all the good it did.

The Raven was starting to come back to life by the time Natalie returned. It was not officially opened for the public yet, but Patrick let her in. She climbed the stairs, balancing a bag of groceries and an overnight bag on either hip, as she knocked on the door at the top.

LaCroix pulled it open for her with an icy glare. So, he must have missed the note. Nat carried the bags in and set them on the table, before turning to face the angry vampire master.

"Moving in, are you?" he asked unpleasantly.

"Good evening, Lucien," she said, trying to keep her tone level. "I left you a note. Right here- explaining where I went."

"You weren't here when I awoke," he snapped, not lightening up the least.

"I'm sorry! I was hungry!" She was beginning to lose her patience. Nick had always been moody, and she'd spent six years pussy-footing around his wildly changing moods. She was tired of it. LaCroix would just have to learn to deal with it.

LaCroix was silent. She watched the stony expression for any slight indication that he was even thinking. Then she thought she saw a flicker of something-- embarrassment, perhaps? But it was gone before she was certain.

"Forgive me," he said coldly. "I am not equipped to entertain mortals."

She felt a devilish grin pull and gave in to the whim. She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Actually, you are VERY equipped, and much more than entertaining, Lucien." Just in case he missed her obvious innuendo, she pulled him close and rubbed against his groin.

He closed his eyes, struggling to keep the stony expression, but an indentation in his cheek betrayed his amusement.

"So you do have a sense of humor," Natalie observed, taunting him.

LaCroix broke free from her embrace and approached the table. There was the note she had written, under an empty bottle. "Empty bottles seldom draw our attention except on cleaning day," the vampire informed her with a half-smile. "You would fare better to leave a note in the refrigerator, tucked around a full one."

"I will remember that," she said.

He raised his eyebrows as he noticed her bag. "You will be staying another day?"

"Well," she stammered, a little embarrassed. This wasn't like her at all. She had never invited herself to man's house before. And since LaCroix technically was not a man, she still hadn't. "If you don't mind... we do have one more day before your children return." She smiled broadly even as she said it. Thinking of Nick and Tracy as anybody's children was amusing.

He pulled her into a tight embrace then and kissed her. She caressed his fangs with her tongue and heard his soft moan of pleasure. Perhaps, she had showered and dressed for nothing? Would they spend the entire night in bed as well?

But the vampire pulled back. His features looked scornful. "Nicholas's Mrs. Schloss requires attention. Her youngest cries, and I promised her we would be by shortly."

Natalie laughed. He had such a funny way with words. "That's fine. My medical bag is in the trunk of my car. Shall I drive?"

"I can think of more interesting ways to travel," he whispered huskily into her ear.

And so, Natalie wrapped one arm around his neck, clutching her bag in the other, as she was flown to the loft. The winter wind nipped at her cheeks and tousled her hair. She wondered briefly how Janette managed to always look so well groomed? Did vampires market a special hairspray specifically to prevent that windblown look?

They could hear Mary's crying from the lift, long before they entered the room. Rachel was crying as well, wiping away silent tears of frustration and worry. Natalie plastered on her pleasant doctor's expression and waited for LaCroix to translate for her. With a gesture, she motioned Rachel to sit at the kitchen chair and hold the baby while Nat examined her.

Mary's temperature was slightly elevated, but after a day of crying that much was to be expected. Mary's nose was running, but it was clear, again not a sign of illness. She took out the otoscope and looked into the infant's ears. That was it.

"She has fluid on her ear drums," Nat explained, and waited for LaCroix to relay that information.

Rachael wanted to know what that meant, and could she fix it, how did it happen, and was that why her baby didn't speak yet. Communication was a little awkward, working through the interpreter, but Natalie hoped she explained everything.

"I don't know how she got the fluid. Often this leads to an ear infection, but I don't see any of that now. The fluid causes pressure on the eardrums, and it is quite painful, actually. I would recommend an antihistamine to clear up both the fluid and the runny nose, and then we'll see," Natalie said.

LaCroix was drafted to fetch the non-prescription medicine, since Natalie did not have a car with her. Natalie felt a little strange as she waited in Nick's loft. Rachel offered her a slice of fresh bread, and Natalie gratefully accepted.

"You? Mr. Knight's mother?" Rachael asked awkwardly.

Natalie almost choked on her bread. "Um, you can speak some English?" she asked, too quickly at first. She repeated it slowly.

Rachel pointed towards the television. "I learn."

Yes. Television could be a useful tool, Natalie acknowledged. "No, I am not his mother, nor his step-mother," she said. "His mother is dead. I am dating his father, though."

Rachael nodded, not completely understanding, but she seemed satisfied with whatever she heard. "Was him Amish?"

Natalie did choke that time. Rachael hurried to pour her a glass of milk, and seemed flustered. "Sorry, my English is no good," she apologized.

"No-no, you are learning just fine," Natalie said. "I'm sorry, for I should not have laughed. Mr. LaCroix is not Amish. He is not a believer, in anything."

Rachael's face clouded over with worry. "So sorry. We pray for him. And for you. A..." and she struggled for the word. She held up her left hand and indicated her wedding band.

"Marriage?" Nat asked.

Rachael nodded. "A Marriage without God is no good."

Natalie was silent. There was no answer to that. But then, there would be no marriage with LaCroix anyway. She could live with him for a few years perhaps as a mortal, or for a few centuries as a vampire, but either way, it was not a permanent relationship.

When LaCroix returned, he carried two large sacks instead one simple bottle of infant-strength allergy and cold relief medicine. He passed them to her, feigning indifference, while Nat curiously emptied them. Inside was a jumbo box of crayons, coloring books, sticker books, picture books, some playdough and silly puddy, all bearing the sales sticker from the pharmacy. There were also candy bars, a bottle of juice, and some saltines. Natalie was impressed.

"How did you know to get all this stuff?" she exclaimed, looking at him curiously.

"I promised Nicholas I would take care of them. The sales clerk told me what to would amuse sick children."

"You'll get a good report card from me, Lucien. Thanks."

The older children exclaimed at the crayons. They asked their mother first, then at her nod, they took the crayons and coloring books back in front of the television set.

Natalie explained, using LaCroix's interpretive skills again to make certain Rachael understood, just how much to give of the infant antihistamine, and how often. Then she asked LaCroix to write it down for her. Rachael looked a little better by the time they left. The company and conversation had been a relief from the constant crying. Natalie told her to call them if Mary got any worse, or if she needed anything at all, even just some one to talk to. Rachael nodded gratefully.

Maybe Natalie didn't want children, she thought, as she left the loft. Some people just were not cut out for kids.

Nick had finished sanding the boards for the hope chest, but he chose to take them back unassembled. It would be easier to pack and to disguise that way. The girls had worked on their embroidery for hours, but finally Urs demanded that they put the work away.

"We have just time for a game or two before we have to leave," she said.

"I am not playing poker with them again," Vachon insisted.

"Nope. We'll play for shots," she said as she produced some dice.

Nick put out four shot glasses and produced a bottle of vintage bloodwine. He set an uncut bottle in front of Tracy. "You stick with this," he admonished her. To his surprise, she did not argue.

"Then I get to drive," Tracy quipped. "I'll be the designated driver."

"Not with my car," Nick said.

"Yes, with your car," Tracy, Vachon, and Urs all said together. "Agreed?"

Nick glared for a few moments. But, Tracy was a good driver. In fact, she was less prone to space out behind the wheel than he was. "Just this once," he consented. She was not to take this as a sign that he would share the driving with her when they were on the job.

Tracy didn't ever really understand the rules for shaking dice. It didn't seem to matter to her, anyway. She got to drink and drink and drink, and the bottles Nick had provided for her were delicious. But, as her opponents lost time after time, she got to observe more than just the game.

Vachon was affected first. Perhaps he was more unlucky that night. His eyes went unfocused, his pale complexion took an odd hue, and his long, normally graceful hands seemed to be everywhere as his coordination failed him.

Urs started to giggle. The quiet, introverted vampire giggled uncontrollably. She started remembering some really bawdy jokes and songs, and she sang them all. She sat on Nick's lap to shake her dice, nuzzling his neck for good luck.

Nick was the funniest. He came completely apart at his cement seams. Tracy had once thought of him as uptight, but the lusty, sensual drunk beside her had nothing in common with those former preconceptions.

But three hours before dawn, she knew it was time to quit. The others were too drunk to help. Tracy packed away their quilt pieces. She loaded the Caddy, and blew out all the lamps. After making sure her tree had enough water, she started coaxing the others out to the car. She pulled Vachon to his feet and gave him a shove in the right direction. He sprawled across the floor in front of the door, holding his clumsy position, reminding her of a children's game she used to play, "statue maker".

"Come on, Nick. Let's go," she scolded, pushing him outside. Nick fell in a snowbank. Urs was nearly asleep. Tracy used her new strength to just carry them and dump them all rather unceremoniously into the back. Then she slammed the car door and revved up the engine.

"Remind me never to play shots with you guys again," she complained as she put the car in gear. "And let's just hope this car holds up."

LaCroix took Natalie out flying over the city first, and then to dinner before bringing her back to his apartment. All he wanted to do was take her back to his bed, but he hesitated to demand too much from this mortal who was neither afraid of him nor in love with him. He sensed she was attracted... that much was in her blood as well as in the way she looked at him. But, she was holding back. Whether it was because of her former relationship with his son, or because she was the careful, cautious type, he didn't know. Normally, he despised not being in control, but with this mortal, it was even... fun. Trying to figure her out, please her, woo her, it was like a game that he had seldom played before and therefore it was all the more enjoyable.

Then they made love on the couch and on the bed, and again after he played his rebec for her, as he had once promised. Finally, they took drinks into the hot tub before retiring... which was quickly becoming his habit. Although the tub was rather large, as hot tubs went, Natalie preferred to sit directly in front of him, her back against his chest, his long legs on either side of hers. Her head fit comfortably below his chin. Her auburn hair smelled wonderful. He wound one strand around his finger and tugged on it gently.

"So tell me more," she said and she snuggled back against him.

"About?"

"When you first met Nick. You were telling me yesterday, but I'm sure there's more to the story. What did you do next? How long did you stay with him?"

LaCroix laughed softly. She was a doctor, a scientist... her inquisitive nature was an integral part of who she was. She would not be satisfied until she had dragged the entire story from him. Well, maybe he would tell her, and then make her forget everything. And, maybe not.

For weeks LaCroix remained in the company of the mortal child. Nicholas had thoroughly captivated him. LaCroix slept through the day while the child attended his studies with the priest and continued to manage his father's estate with amazing ability for his age. LaCroix arose late in the afternoon to play a game of chess with the boy, or to tell him some tale of ancient history to amuse him. Every night the child begged him to stay with him until he fell asleep. LaCroix never asked what frightened him and Nicholas never volunteered the information. Then, quite late when the castle was silent, LaCroix would fly from a shadowed window to seek a meal at some distance away.

He did not understand the attraction he felt for the boy. It disturbed him greatly. He was beginning to care more for the child than for himself, and that was a dangerous thing for a vampire. It had to be stopped. He considered draining the child, but every time he pulled young Nicholas onto his lap intending to do just that, the boy would flash that winning smile and say something so disarming that LaCroix was powerless to act.

Finally, he decided that he must just leave. It would be hard to say good-bye, and that had never been his way before. So one night, after feeding, he just continued on his way without a backward glance.

But... his unlife had changed. He found his solitude to be lonely. And when he relocated his daughter, she no longer amused him. He started a killing frenzy, trying to regain the joy of his existence, but it failed. He traveled to new locations, which failed to amuse him as well. Finally, after more than two years, he decided that he would return and either kill the child or bring him across. He bid Janette adieu and left for Brabant.

Leaving his horse tied outside the castle walls, he entered the upper window of Nicholas's room. It was quite late. He had planned it that way, expecting everyone to be asleep. The room was empty. The bed had not been slept in. LaCroix looked around. It still held the child's belongings, but no sign of him. LaCroix went into the hallway to seek him.

He found an infant girl sleeping in a cradle. Of course, the mother had been expecting the last time he'd visited, but that child should have been two years old by now, while this one was only a few months. He searched the other rooms, but could find no sign of a toddler. The child might have died. Mortal young often did these days, much more so than in his time. Perhaps there was something unhealthy in the lifestyle of this culture, or perhaps these European women were less hearty than Roman stock. Still, he was certain that a flight to the family cemetery would reveal a tiny headstone to the child.

He found the mother sleeping down the hall in the arms of a man he guessed was her errant husband. That she could produce three young within eight years suggested that he did get home on occasion. The man was snoring loudly. LaCroix caught the odor of alcohol in the air. Lord Henri de Brabant was dead drunk tonight.

The vampire went about the castle with increasing trepidation. The thought of not seeing the boy upset him. He searched room after room, until a cold thought suggested that he seek the cemetery for Nicholas, as well.

LaCroix felt a press of tears at his nose, surprising and frightening him. He had not wept in centuries... why should this mortal child tug so at his emotions? He must be unwell. Perhaps, it was best that the child was dead. He would go to the stable and borrow a horse and ride out to the cemetery at once.

He hesitated at the stable door. It was here that he had first met him. Leaning against the door, he recalled that night as clearly as yesterday. The boy's wide smile, his warm touch, his unfettered love for a stranger. With a hiss, the vampire pushed open the door.

The horses snickered nervously at his presence. LaCroix surveyed the animals critically. He preferred a spirited beast, but for this brief trip one that would be placidly obedient was preferable. Running his cold hand along the hind flank of each horse, he made a quick assessment of its demeanor. The silver dappled Belgium did not flinch. It would do.

A sound caught at the edge of his hearing. He froze, straining his ears to catch and sort all auditory stimuli. There were the snuffing sounds of the horses, and the sturdy rhythmic beating of their hearts. But there was another that did not belong. A mortal was inside.

"Come out at once," LaCroix said firmly.

The sound almost ceased. Whoever it was held his breath, but the rapid heartbeat was still discernable. "I demand that you come out at once!"

There was a hesitant scuffling. He saw a pile of hay wiggle. He was not known to be patient. He cleared his throat. A head emerged. A small child stepped from the hay, clinging to the shadows as though they could still offer him protection, but LaCroix saw him clearly. He was a little taller, and thinner, but it was the same golden curls and incredible blue eyes. Only now the winning smile was noticeably absent. LaCroix remembered then that Nicholas had been afraid of the dark.

"Come here, Nicholas. I will not hurt you," LaCroix said.

The child took small, hesitant steps out of the shadow. "Do I know you? You're voice is familiar..."

LaCroix moved away from the Belgian until a sliver of moonlight shone upon him.

The boy cocked his head curiously and stepped closer. "Monsieur LaCroix? It is you!"

He smiled then, briefly, and then it was gone. "You left me. You never said good-bye."

LaCroix wondered how to respond to that. It was the truth. He didn't understand his feelings, but saw no reason to share that with the boy. Then Nicholas came to him.

"I am glad that you came back," he said.

LaCroix smiled at him. The torment he'd lived under for the past two years was gone. He felt whole again, and this child was to blame. The moonlight caught the boy's face, too. LaCroix was surprised to see that he had been crying.

"What is it, Nicholas?"

He swiped a hand at his face. "Nothing, Monsieur."

LaCroix could always tell when some one was lying. He put a hand firmly on the boy's shoulder.

Nicholas winced, crying out. He tried to pull free, but LaCroix held him firmly. In a quick movement he pulled the boy's shirt up and looked at his small back, now bruised from a recent beating. "Who did this," he said coldly.

Nicholas didn't answer. LaCroix could guess easily. Everyone at the castle had adored the child. It could only be his drunken father. Parents had every right to beat their children, he knew only too well, but it still infuriated him that anyone would dare to harm Nicholas. That he had come here to possibly kill the boy was immaterial. No one else would ever harm him again and survive. He cursed under his breath.

Nicholas stepped back from him, returning to the shadows. He still seemed wary. LaCroix was pleased. A five-year-old might welcome total strangers, but a little caution now was a sign of maturity.

"Why did he hit you," LaCroix asked.

"Why did you leave?"

The vampire laughed. The boy was afraid and hurting, but his chin thrust out defiantly. He had spirit. "Touché, Nicholas. I left because it was time. I had business to attend to. You know I travel only at night, and if I had told you I was leaving, you would not have gone to sleep."

"I made him hit me," Nicholas replied. At LaCroix's raised eyebrow, he continued. "He used to hit maman. He hit her once so badly, and my baby sister died that night. So I must protect her."

LaCroix nodded. Already the boy had wormed back into his heart. He had courage. LaCroix held out his hand. Nicholas looked at it, up at him, and then instead of taking it, he threw his arms around him and embraced him.

"I've missed you!" he said. LaCroix heard the catch in his voice as he shed fresh tears, but he said nothing.

He went with Nicholas back into the keep, as the boy showed him the secret passageway he used to get in and out. LaCroix took him into the kitchen, where he found water and lye soap to wash the open wounds on his back lest they become infected. Nicholas pulled off his shirt and waited stoically. There were no long-standing scars, LaCroix noted with relief. And he would make certain that the boy's father never laid a hand on him again.

"So, I saw that you have another sibling," LaCroix commented, hoping to make light conversation and distract him from the pain.

"Yes, she is my little fleur," Nicholas answered. LaCroix could hear the love in his voice. "Maman named her five names, in honor of several patron saints and the Holy Mother herself, but I call her Fleur. Now everyone else does, too."

LaCroix noted the boy's ribs. Although children grew in spurts and often went into a gangly stage, this child was too thin. Had constant hunger been another sort of punishment? He searched the kitchen, bringing bread and cheese to the table. Slicing it, as though for himself, he invited Nicholas to join him.

He stared at the food, hesitation warring with desire. "I cannot," he murmured.

"Yes, you can and you will. It would be poor manners to have a guest dine alone. Now fetch the wine, and be quick," LaCroix ordered.

Nicholas jumped to obey.

That was something different about him. When the father was absent, Nicholas was the lord. He walked with confidence and commanded wisely. Now, he was cautious... distrustful. LaCroix felt like killing the father twice over for that.

He sipped at the wine while watching the child devour enough to feed several grown men. Then he suggested that it was time to retire.

"Will you still be here tomorrow?"

"Yes, Nicholas. I will stay for a while. And I will not leave you again without saying good-bye."

Then he did it. Nicholas smiled. And LaCroix felt his blood warm at the sight.

Nicholas showed him to the guestroom, hanging around the door awkwardly. LaCroix had shared his bed before, not leaving the boy's room until he was asleep. Part of him wanted to return to the boy's room, but the general in him fought against the emotional tie.

"I'm not afraid of the dark anymore," Nicholas said softly, scuffling one foot behind the other.

LaCroix waited, watching the play of emotions across the boy's handsome face.

"Because, I knew that you were in the night. Somewhere. And, I am not afraid of you."

The vampire clenched his jaw. He felt his fangs threaten to descend. Now that would frighten the boy! He felt a stirring of desire, and knew he would not harm this child. "Go to sleep, then, Nicholas. I shall see you tomorrow."

The boy looked hurt. "Promise?" he asked timidly, glancing up through too-long bangs that curled down his forehead.

LaCroix nodded without speaking. Then he watched as the boy left, closing the door behind him and wondered at the sense of loss he was feeling.

He waited for an hour, until he was certain that the boy was sleeping. Dawn was still a little while away. LaCroix decided that a nightmare would be best to train the father, and then he would still have time to hunt before he slept. Yanking the father from his bed was not a challenge. At some point the mother had crawled out from under his heavy arm and rolled to the far side, trying even in her sleep not to touch him. LaCroix clamped a strong hand over his mouth to silence him and flew with him out of a tapestry-covered window to the top of the keep. Then, holding the man precariously with one hand and letting him see the ground seventy feet below, LaCroix shook him like a dog worrying a bone.

Lord Henri de Brabant cried out for mercy, but the wind carried his pleas away. "Who are you? What do you want?" he begged.

"I am the boy's protector," LaCroix hissed, allowing his eyes to turn to gold. "You will never touch Nicholas again!"

"Don't let me fall, please!" he cried out, soiling himself in his fear.

LaCroix sneered at the drunken fool disdainfully. He couldn't be the creator of that precious child! Perhaps the mother had strayed and dallied along the way? "If you ever lay a hand on the boy, I will kill you," LaCroix hissed in his ear. Then he put him to sleep with a hypnotic push and laid him on the floor of his bedchamber.

Lord de Brabant was gone by the time LaCroix awoke the following evening. The castle servants seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief, and slowly LaCroix saw the boy regain some of his former confidence.

Nicholas was moody, though. At times he would smile, either at LaCroix or his infant sister, but behind the expression was a troubled look. LaCroix missed the little five-year-old he had once been. One afternoon Nicholas was gone when LaCroix came down.

"He went to John the Younger's house, to visit his sick wife," one of the cooks volunteered.

LaCroix did not feel much like engaging in small talk with a simple servant, but he suspected that she might know a great deal about Nicholas. "He seems troubled," he suggested, and waited to see if she would take his bait.

"Aye, he is," the older woman replied sadly, shaking her head and her ample bosom. "That boy has a heavy burden."

LaCroix eased his long frame onto a small, rather precarious looking stool as he waited for her story. He did not have to wait long. This woman had opinions, and no one with whom to share them. The strange houseguest seemed a willing target.

"He's being pulled apart by them that loves him. The commoners want him to run this place like a man, and so he has forfeited his childhood to do it. His mother wants him to go to the university and study, for he has a quick mind. The priest is encouraging him to take holy vows, and his father wants to send him away to be a squire to his brother, expecting him to be a knight some day. He can't do nothing, without hurting some one."

LaCroix nodded. Perhaps bringing the boy away with him would be a good thing?

The woman continued on in her criticisms of her employers, as though once opened, the floodgates could not be closed again. "It's been especially tough since his sister died. He was sleeping, and the master would not wake him. She was dead, before he woke, and he never had a chance to pray for her. He blames himself for her death."

LaCroix bristled. Faith healings were utter nonsense. And the mother was a fool to permit the peasants to use her boy that way. He went out for a walk then, to contemplate the matter of bringing the child across. It was not forbidden by the code, but it was strongly frowned upon. Children could not be trusted to keep the code. Bringing a child across was a permanent, full-time commitment on the part of the master. Still, LaCroix felt he was up to the task. The thought of leaving the boy, and possibly not seeing him again, was tearing at him.

His walk brought him full circle around the inside of the castle, and he returned inside late enough to have missed dinner. He still had not decided what to do for the child.

An angry voice, shouting with slightly slurred speech, alerted LaCroix to Henri's return. He hurried into the great hall, unsure of what had transpired. The priest lay on the stone floor near the hearth in a spreading pool of blood. Nicholas hovered over him, glaring up at his drunken father with hatred.

"You killed him! You killed a man of God!" He shouted, shaking a fist.

"Shut up! You will speak of this to no one," Henri commanded.

"I'll tell everyone! You'll rot in the tower for this!"

Henri lunged for his son with murderous intent. LaCroix acted without thinking. He flew at the father and drained him, dropping the dead corpse to the floor. Nicholas looked at him for the first time with fear.

LaCroix felt a knife of pain tearing at his gut. What had he done? He'd revealed himself to the child. Now, he might have no choice but to bring him across. "Nicholas," he started to say.

The boy shrank back from him, trembling.

The vampire could not do it. He would not have this golden child tied to him, perhaps to torture him with that look of fear for centuries. He grabbed the boy's shoulders and made him forget. Then he put him to sleep. After disposing of the bodies, he left, vowing never to return.

Natalie had moved to sit behind him, gently massaging his shoulders while he told her much of his story. A silence fell around them, uniting them in thoughts of Nicholas. He would always come between them, LaCroix thought sadly. But perhaps they could move on and accept that fact, even as their relationship progressed.

"That was very noble of you," Natalie replied, surprising him.

"It was nothing of the sort," he snapped indignantly.

She laughed. She had expected that sort of response. "You protected him, saved his life, then gave him that life as his own. You let him grow up, when you had wanted to make him yours."

"I killed his father." LaCroix sighed. Henri had deserved to die, but Nicholas had not deserved to be raised fatherless. It had made a bad situation much worse.

"But Henri was going to kill him!"

"I don't know that for sure. What kind of man kills his own son? Maybe he would only have frightened him."

Natalie shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Whether Nicholas died as a child, or grew to adulthood and died as a mortal, he would still be dead. Is that what you want for him?"

"It is not what I want, Miss Lambert. But perhaps it is what he wanted."

Natalie laughed heartily. "Lucien! I am sitting naked in your hot tub with you, for the second day in a row. I think we have moved beyond the formal use of my last name."

LaCroix stiffened at her tone, but she began to lick the erogenous area just behind his ear. He hissed softly as his fangs descended. Anymore foolish reminiscing would wait.

Tracy clutched the steering wheel, denting the steel slightly with the pressure. She was not afraid of driving on snowy roads, or crashing, or even dying. But the sun would be rising in less than an hour, and she could not drive fast enough. The other vampires were pretty much dead to the world. She pressed on the accelerator, forcing the old Caddy to pick up the speed a little. At once the rear tires fishtailed. Steering into the turn, she felt the car weave sharply to the left and right several times before she drove out of it. Maybe she should stop and put the chains back on? But they were such a nuisance. She blinked back a red tear. Now was not the time for fear. She needed to think clearly.

Suddenly the road was blocked. A large tree branch had snapped, from cold or snow or maybe it was just dead, but Tracy pumped the brakes furiously, sliding into the branch with a shattering of glass. Nick was going to kill her.

The others didn't budge from their stupor, but snored softly. She cursed them as she got out of the Caddy to assess the damage. Only a headlight was broken, and the paint was scratched, maybe a small dent or two- although she couldn't be certain the dents hadn't already been there. But the tree branch was too heavy for her. She had to get help. And damn it all, but she wanted Nick to help her.

She went back inside the Caddy and started to shake him. He made no response. It was rather silly, really, that vampires were such sound sleepers. Certainly a major design flaw. It could be deadly dangerous for them. If she ever met the council of ancients, she would tell them so herself.

"Nick, come on partner. I need you," she continued, slapping his face lightly and still not getting a response. If he didn't wake soon, she would have to try to contact LaCroix through their link. He would come, do doubt, and rescue them all, and then he would beat Nick within an inch of his unlife, and their pleasant weekend would be ruined. Fear made her bolder. Pulling her sleeping brother into her arms, she started to seduce him, nipping at his neck with her fangs.

Nick awoke with a roar. Golden eyes and fangs threatened her, while Nick was still too sleepy to be aware of much. She shook him, shouting at him and trying desperately to reach him.

"Nick! I need you! Wake up now!"

The sleepy vampire blinked, looking lost and disoriented.

"Nick! I hit a tree with your car," she shouted. Maybe the shock approach would help. "I can't move the tree, the sun is coming up soon, we're still a long way from home, and I need your help!"

Nick threw open his door and lunged from the car. She thought he'd be inspecting the damage to his precious car, but instead he doubled over a snowdrift and heaved.

Tracy went to him, rubbing his back to let him know she was there. This was the one side of drinking that she didn't mind missing. Tossing cookies was nasty, and eternity didn't change that. Nick weakly got to his feet and kicked the snow to bury the wine and blood he'd spilled.

"I'm sorry, Tracy," he said, his voice sounded thin and shaky.

"It's okay, bro. I'm sorry I had to wake you. But it's getting late, and I was scared."

"I'm sorry, but, I have to have something to drink..."

Tracy stared, silently, trying to understand what he was saying. Of course, when she'd been drunk, she had had to puke it up first, and then LaCroix fed her whole blood, and then she'd been healed. There'd been no residual hangover like mortals suffer. But they had no blood in the Caddy. And Vachon and Urs were still poisoned with wine. Tracy loosened the zipper of her winter jacket and offered Nick her throat.

Nick looked embarrassed. He fidgeted boyishly. Tracy groaned. They didn't have time for this. Boldly, she bit his neck behind his ear, bringing a hiss from him as his fangs descended again.

Tracy didn't drink much. His blood still tasted off. She hugged him though, as he drank from her, and felt her body respond to the sensual contact, even in this urgent time. Whoever had said vampires were sensual creatures had made the understatement of the century. She felt her knees grow weaker. Nick had taken a lot from her before he withdrew his fangs.

Now his eyes were hard. She sensed his anger, but it was directed at himself. He went to the tree branch and tossed it aside easily as if it had been no more than a twig. He got the tire chains back out of the trunk and snapped them around the rear tires with the ease of much practice. Then, he pulled Urs from the back seat and started to transfer the luggage from the trunk into the car. He laid Urs in the trunk. Taking two shirts, he jammed them in the windows of the back seat, so Vachon would be protected. Then he told Tracy to crawl in the trunk.

"But Nick! What about you?"

"I'll be fine. Move it!"

Tracy reluctantly obeyed, only because the more she argued, the more he might be exposed to the dawn. The trunk slammed shut over her, but instead of feeling the claustrophobic fear a mortal might experience, she felt wrapped in a safe cocoon. Although she was worried for Nick, and upset that the happy weekend had to end on a dangerous note, her body responded to the approaching dawn and the loss of blood. She yawned once before she was sound asleep.

Nick set a new speed record for the Caddy, but he saw no patrol officers out to give him a ticket. No doubt they would be busy handling fender benders until the plows cleared up the roads. Dawn had happened. The pink light terrified him even as he forced himself to drive. Vachon groaned once in the back when Nick had turned a corner and the light found a piece of the Spaniard's flesh to singe. Nick's hands were burning now. His head was in shadow, but there was no way to drive without exposing his hands to the pain. Parts of his legs were burning too. He ran several streetlights, swerving through downtown that was strangely empty this morning. Schools and some businesses must be on a two-hour delay. Nick should stop and take the chains off his tires. Some of the roads had been plowed. But he didn't dare go outside now.

LaCroix was going to kill him. That fear alone kept him conscious. He had to get Tracy and Urs to safety. They were both too young to endure even a moment of daylight. He pulled up behind the Raven, where the building's shadow would protect the women as they climbed from the trunk. Someone was at the back door holding it open for him. Nick opened the rear door of the Caddy and grabbed Vachon, throwing him in through the open door past Natalie. Then he opened the trunk.

A black figure flew from the Raven to grab Tracy in his arms. Nick felt his master's presence more than saw him, before he flew inside with her. Nick grabbed Urs, slammed the trunk shut, and hurried in to the comfort and protection of his father's house.

Natalie stood up from where she'd been looking over Vachon. The Spaniard was no worse for wear. He would be a little sick whenever he came too, but his small burns were already healing. Urs was unharmed, as well. Nick set her down at a table, suddenly feeling too weak to carry her another step. Natalie was talking to him. He could hear the concern her voice, but it sounded far away. He couldn't make out what she was saying.

Then his master was there. Nick didn't care that LaCroix was probably going to hurt him. He'd been foolish and irresponsible, and four vampires could have died because of him. "I'm sorry, father," he whispered, before his strength gave out.

LaCroix caught him. He lifted Nicholas and carried him to his room. He didn't scold him, but he wasn't going to offer to feed him, either. He had known more or less what was happening. Already an hour ago he could feel Nick's fear through their link, feel the dawn burn his hands. LaCroix could feel nothing from Tracy except that she slept. He didn't know why they were coming home so late, only that Nicholas had brought them back safely, at his own expense. LaCroix had been furious then, and shouted that he was going to kill him.

Natalie had calmed him. She had laughed, actually. "You love him," she reminded him. "And you worry about him, and that makes you angry. Just be grateful that he is bringing them home, and forgive him."

So LaCroix had suffered for an hour, worrying about them. Nicholas could suffer through the day for that.

Natalie climbed into bed beside the ancient vampire. "Why are Vachon and Urs so out of it? They didn't look burned," she asked.

"They are drunk," he explained. "They had a wild party, and Tracy was the designated driver, no doubt. I don't know yet why they are so late."

It was rather funny, Natalie thought. LaCroix's children were like typical mortal adolescents. But if he slept and fed well before facing them, perhaps the vampire parent could control his abusive anger. She nuzzled his ear and made him forget about them. At least, for now.

Urs awoke briefly as LaCroix carried his son upstairs. She could sense the ancient's anger, and decided that the apartment was not a good place to be right now. Nudging Vachon to his feet, they went below to sleep with the others. Her stomach felt woozy. It had been fun, though. But had it been worth it? She would wait until she saw Nick again to decide that.

Nick felt sore all over. His dreams had been restless, a mixture of longing and fear that left him in a cold sweat when he awoke but unable to recall them at all. His stomach clawed at him. It was time to feed. With a groan that brought him to wakefulness, Nick struggled to his feet.

The door opened. His master blocked the exit, a dark shadow in his black pajamas. Then Nick remembered it all. He had messed up again, having too much to drink and placing Tracy in danger. "LaCroix," he gasped. His legs threatened to give out. Nick sank back onto the bed, shrinking back from his master with a fleeting look of fear. Then he swallowed and braced himself. The way he felt, he wouldn't feel much after the first blow.

"You are awake," LaCroix stated the obvious. He came into the room then, and closed the door behind him. The room was comfortable, although just a little smaller than his. Nick didn't often use it. A few times when he'd stayed at the Raven, he had slept in either LaCroix's room or Janette's. Only recently had he begun to use this one, often sharing it was Urs. It needed something, a few personal trinkets perhaps, to remove the cold sterile feel of a motel. He would speak to Urs about it. LaCroix sat on the bed near his son.

Nick clenched his teeth, lowering his eyes respectfully although his fangs were out as his hunger was nearly overpowering.

"You had quite a night, I suspect," LaCroix said calmly.

Nick nodded, not saying a thing.

"It has been some time since you have "tied one on" like that, I believe is the current colloquialism."

Nick glanced up hesitantly. LaCroix didn't really sound as angry as Nick had thought he would. Maybe he hadn't lost Tracy's bet yet. Maybe a quick apology could still save him? "I'm sorry, LaCroix. I didn't mean for any of it to happen."

"I know," the ancient said softly. "I was very angry with you this morning. You put yourself and Tracy in grave danger. But you saved her from harm and your own injuries are healing. I'm sure that you will be more thoughtful next weekend, if you return to your cabin then."

Nick nodded agreeably, uncertain what it meant. Was his master going to just let this pass without beating him to a bloody pulp? Then LaCroix loosened the top of his pajamas, offering his neck to Nicholas. "Come, my son. You must drink and heal, or you will be late for your work tonight."

Nick hesitated only a moment, before his instinctual need to feed was stronger than his fear. When LaCroix was angry, he only offered his wrist; that he bared his throat was a true sign of forgiveness. Nicholas lunged into his master's arms and sank into the tender throat again as he sucked hungrily of the cold nectar that so often healed and comforted. There was no anger hidden in the blood, only affection.

LaCroix did not return the vampire kiss. Instead he fed his son, allowing the blood to flow only in one direction, until he sensed his son's strength return through their link. Then with a gentle tug he disengaged himself and stood.

Nicholas glanced up at him. The fear was gone, as were the lines of pain and fatigue. His son looked at him shyly and smiled. The broad, winning smile was back, even after 800 years, and still it melted the ancient's heart and filled him completely with peace. "Thank you, father," he whispered.

LaCroix nodded, uncertain of his voice at the moment. Then he turned to leave. Stopping at the door, he turned back. "Oh, one more thing. Your keys." He held his hand out and waited.

"What?" LaCroix never wanted his car before. The ancient vampire had a private limo, he would never do something as plebian as drive himself somewhere.

"You have a ruined headlight. I have decided that your punishment shall be to manage without your precious car for the week. Tracy can drive you to work."

Nick jumped to his feet, his earlier fear already a thing of the past. "But she was the one driving when the headlight broke. Why should she drive me!"

LaCroix gave him a hard stare. "You would prefer the usual?"

Nick swallowed. His car! It just wasn't fair. He fished the keys from his pocket and handed them over.

"You may have them back on Friday night. I will send the repair bill to Tracy." The ancient observed his son for another moment before leaving. Nicholas was miserable, but unlike other times, he wasn't angry or resentful. Maybe Natalie had been right, about making the punishment fit the crime.

Nicholas sat back on the bed for a moment longer and thought. Something was different about the ancient. In his blood Nick had learned of his growing attraction for Natalie and that they had become more intimate in their relationship than Nick had ever allowed. But that wasn't what disturbed him now. LaCroix seemed to think of him as a child. When Nick drank from him, LaCroix had a clear image of him as a boy of six or seven... no wonder his master often treated him like a child, if that was how he saw him. It was curious. Still, it had worked to his benefit tonight. Tracy's quilt remained a secret and Nick felt well enough to go to work. He would miss his Caddy, but he really couldn't drive it until the headlight was repaired, anyway. After the speeding ticket he'd had last week, he'd better not tempt the traffic cops again. With a grin and a whistle he hit the shower.

Reese was more irritable than normal. He attacked the water cooler with a vengeance, chewing out any officer that happened to be in his path. He was angry with Nick and Tracy at the number of current unsolveds still on their desks, and with Schultz for answering several personal calls while on duty. Before long the entire precinct seemed on edge, wishing he'd take a sick day.

"Wonder what gives?" Tracy asked.

Nick shrugged. Mortals sometimes came out of a hypnotic trance feeling either disoriented or irritable, but it had been days since he'd hypnotized his captain. He wasn't going to feel responsible for it.

He picked up the top folder and read it again. It was Mrs. Janice Whitcomb, the estranged wife found shot to death on the floor of her apartment a few weeks ago. Her husband had been found and questioned. His alibi was airtight. He had checked himself into an alcoholic rehab center several days before and a least a dozen witnesses could verify his presence at the time of the murder. The dog was still missing. That bugged Nick, for some unexplained reason.

Forensics had verified the presence of dog hair in her apartment, after Nick had told them to look for it. The hair was long and soft, pale golden in color- almost like golden retriever hair, but Nick was fairly certain she had a small dog. "So what kind of breed to you think it was?" he asked Tracy suddenly.

"You've lost me," she replied. She listened while Nick explained his question. Then she hit a series of bookmarks on her computer and brought up a webpage for dog breeds. Nick remembered that she'd been stressing out about selecting a dog for her nephew back when she was still new on the force. The boy had settled for a mutt from the pound, but apparently, Tracy hadn't deleted the bookmarks.

"Small dog, yellow hair... maybe a Pekinese?" she suggested.

Nick looked over her shoulder and nodded.

"They aren't real popular, are they? I mean, if one were turned in to the pound, do you think they'd remember?"

"It's worth a try," Tracy said. She called the Toronto Animal Shelter and several veterinarians as well, leaving messages on their machines. At this time of night, it was the best she could hope for.

Nick closed Mrs. Whitcomb's file and tossed it back in the stack. Then he opened Jason Wilton Jr.'s file, the teenaged boy from an upscale neighborhood found shot in the back on school grounds. There were no clues. It was time to start interviewing his classmates. He opened the list the school principal had mailed to him of the class roster, with a yellow highlighter through the names of his friends. "Come on Tracy," Nick said. "Guess it's time."

And so it went for three full nights. They interviewed high schoolers and made copious notes, and got no where. They got responses back from the animal shelter and the vet- no stray Pekinese had been brought in. Nick was beginning to feel as irritable as Reese, whose disposition had not improved at all.

On Thursday night Nick dropped in to visit with Mrs. Schloss relatively early in the evening. Natalie was there when he arrived as she had wanted to examine the baby. "Her ears look much better, " she said. Tracy went to sit on the couch. She pulled a square of satin from her bag and started to work on it. Nick had told her what he needed to discuss with Mrs. Schloss, and Tracy figured they would be here for awhile.

"Danke," the young mother said. "I think the medicine is helping her, too. She called me "mama" this week!"

Natalie smiled. "That's great. I'd keep her on the antihistamines for a few weeks longer. If, when you take her off, her nose starts to run again, then you may need to have her tested for allergies." Natalie packed up her bag then. With a smile for Nick, she buttoned her coat and left.

"Mrs. Schloss, do you have family somewhere," Nick asked.

She looked at her hands that were clenched tightly in her lap. "Yes, Mr. Knight. Father, mother, and five little sisters. I married young, because it was the only way I could help my father. You see, his heart is tired and he has no sons to help him with his chores. So I simply cannot go back to him now. He doesn't need any more dependents."

"But surely your father loves you," Tracy interrupted, as she tried to follow along in the conversation which vacillated between old German and broken English.

Rachael blinked back tears. "Oh yes! He loves too much. He loves his girls and his wife and his farm, and I'm sure he would love his grandchildren! But I won't be the death of him, bringing him any more work and responsibility! I hate being Amish! I have decided to stay in the city."

Nick swallowed the dread that lodged in his throat. Once, he had faltered, and he had thrown away a life of faith. He could not let this young woman repeat the same mistake, and yet, as each day passed, he feared that he would not find her husband alive. There was no ransom note to suggest that he was simply being held.

"Rachael, now is not the time to make such a decision. You are grieving, lost, alone, confused. You are in a strange place, away from family.. This is not the time to make any life-changing decisions."

"Being Amish killed my husband! It is killing my father! I have a right to change."

"Rachael," Nick said softly. His voice sounded tortured. He let some of his anguish bleed through, as he hoped to make her understand. "I was once in a place very much like you are now. It was after the war..." He didn't mention what war. "I had been injured. The lord dele-- I mean, my commanding officer had betrayed me, intentionally putting me in danger. My father was dead, my lands stolen, my wealth gone. I was desperate. And I turned my back on my faith. I lost more then than any man should have to endure. And I fear that I will never get it back."

Rachael's determination wavered. Her expression remained pained, but she seemed hesitant. "Others have left the faith. They believe it is possible to love God and worship Him in more modern ways."

Nick took her hand in both of his and clasped it. "Please, Mrs. Schloss, promise me that you will consider this for six months at least. Go back to your people, and allow yourself to grieve and to think. If you still wish to leave then, I will help you to adjust to the city."

Rachael nodded reluctantly, swiping away a stray tear with a firm hand. "You are wise, Mr. Knight. I will do as you suggest."

Tracy got up from the couch. "Nick, Trevor miss-spelled "appreciate" on his square. Do you think I should fix it, or just embroider it the way he wrote it?"

Nick wondered himself. He didn't really think that it mattered either way, but he was trying to show some interest in her project. "Maybe you should do it the way he wrote it," he hedged.

"Thanks. I think so, too."

"What is this you do," Mrs. Schloss asked.

Tracy laid the satin square down, and pulled several others from her purse that she had finished. "I'm making a signature quilt for my dad. I wanted to make a crazy quilt, sort of like this." She pulled three of the velvet pieces and tried to show the Amish woman what she meant.

"Ah, yes! A Friendship Quilt, is what I've always called it! May I help you? There is not much time before Christmas. It looks like you have much to do!"

Nick translated much of her conversation, as her English was still limited to what television commercials covered.

Tracy squealed. "That would be fantastic! Nick! What do you think?"

He shrugged. If Mrs. Schloss would relieve him from quilt detail, he'd be forever indebted. "Tracy, why don't you and Urs and Mrs. Schloss work on this thing together for a while. I'll go interview more high school kids alone."

Tracy covered her immediate enthusiasm with reluctance. "But you know what Reese would say. Working alone isn't safe."

Nick laughed. "Hey, baby. You KNOW I'll be all right among a bunch of mortal kids."

"Okay. It's fine with me," she said. "But LaCroix said you couldn't drive this week."

"So, I'll take a more direct route," he said, gesturing in the air. They shared a smile. "Good night, Mrs. Schloss. Tracy, I'll come by in a couple of hours."

Nick swung by the morgue next. It was something of a relief to get away from Tracy, even if only for a little while. She was able to stay awake the whole shift now, and since he was spending his weekends with her too, it was just a bit too much togetherness. He felt restless and wasn't sure why.

Nat looked up from her work and gave him an easy smile. "Hi, Nick. What brings you here tonight?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "No particular reason, I guess. Just to see how you are."

"Oh, I'm fine," she answered. She brushed a stray lock of hair aside with a sleeve as she scrutinized the vampire. She knew LaCroix had not hurt him this morning, but something was bothering him. Maybe it was break time, anyway. She pulled off her latex gloves and removed the white lab coat. "Take a seat?" she asked, as she opened a thermos of cocoa she'd packed.

Nick sat in the chair she indicated for a full two seconds before getting up to pace restlessly. Natalie sat back. She thought of the stories LaCroix had told her last weekend and tried to imagine Nick as LaCroix had first seen him. She pictured the little boy, shaking a fist at a horde of angry men armed with pitchforks. Yes, Nick hadn't really changed much. He was still taking on the bad guys against all odds. And although she no longer fancied herself in love with him, she knew she still loved him dearly.

"It's Mrs. Schloss," Nick started to say.

"Uh-hum," she answered, noncommittally.

"She is thinking of leaving her faith."

"Nick, I think that's great," Natalie said.

He stared at her as if she had just committed a mortal sin. "How can you say that?"

Nat set her cup aside. "A lifestyle that goes out of its way to keep women barefoot, pregnant, in the kitchen and in the dark ages? How can you expect me to say otherwise?"

"You just don't understand," he answered miserably.

"You're right. I don't. So try to explain it to me. I'm listening."

Nick sighed. He sat back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. His eyes took on a distant look. Nat hoped he wasn't going to go all the way back to the reformation to tell her about the birth of the Mennonite church. The short form would do just as well tonight.

"Maybe she should leave her church," Nick said. "But now isn't a good time. What if I had waited to take LaCroix's offer of immortality? What if some wise man had come to me then, and said, "don't make any life-changing decisions now. Take some time to heal and think about it seriously. Would I still have accepted his seductive offer?"

Nat didn't feel like she should remind him that if he had waited, and refused the vampire's gift, then she would never have met him. Besides, hindsight was always twenty-twenty. "Nick, this isn't about you and LaCroix. This is about a woman who should still be single and in college and having the time of her life, who instead may be widowed with three children and no job skills."

"I'm taking her home," he said then. "But I promised her that if in six months she still wanted to leave, I would help her."

Nat drained her cocoa. "That's fair. If it is the right thing for her now, it will still be right in six months."

Nick smiled at her. Nat's breath caught in her throat as she saw what she had taken for granted in the past, and what LaCroix had obsessed over for centuries. Nicholas had a beautiful smile.

"Good night, Nat," he said. Getting to his feet, he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and left.

Nat sighed. The sudden, silent comings and goings of her vampires was something she would never get used to.

Friday night came much too fast. LaCroix watched Tracy toss a change of clothes into a bag, feeling strangely forlorn. He hadn't tasted from either of his children in nearly two weeks. They were busy with themselves, their friends, their jobs, and had no time for him. Although he and Miss Lambert had made plans for the weekend as well, he still felt annoyed with his children.

Nicholas came out of his room shouldering Urs's bag. His behavior had been exemplary all week long- not once had he complained about the loss of his precious car. At least, not to LaCroix. The ancient vampire searched his son's face now, suspecting Nicholas was hiding something from him. He probed him gently, trying not to alert Nicholas to his presence. Yes, there was something private, shielded. LaCroix could figure it out if they shared blood... so perhaps his children were purposefully avoiding him? The thought brought a flicker of gold to his eyes at their deceitfulness.

Nick looked at his master curiously. The ancient was upset about something, but Nick couldn't imagine what now. "I am taking Mrs. Schloss home on Sunday, LaCroix."

The vampire tilted his chin slightly, the only sign that he had heard.

"Is something wrong?" Nick asked, hesitantly.

LaCroix gazed into the watery depths of his ocean blue eyes. His son did appear utterly clueless. Perhaps LaCroix had misread his thoughts. "No, Nicholas. I think not.

Nick stood tall then, with the authoritative air of the young knight, and held out his hand. "May I have my keys back now?"

"And I have your word that you and Tracy will return to me, safely, punctually, and sober?"

Nick grunted. "Yes, LaCroix. Of course."

He pulled the keys from his pocket then and placed them in Nick's outstretched hand. But instead of letting go, he pulled his son into his embrace. "Run along, then. I will see you both here, by 5 Am or before, Monday morning."

Nick returned the embrace. Something was wrong with the ancient master. He seemed out of sorts. Nick looked at him intently. "We could stay home, LaCroix. We don't have to go."

The ancient scowled. Were his emotions riding too close to the surface? He clamped them down will the well-practiced sneer. "I have plans of my own, child. Go."

Nick pulled free and shrugged. "Good night, then." The younger vampires followed him from the apartment, eager to begin their holiday.

"So, what was that all about," Tracy complained while Nick loaded the trunk.

He gave her a shrug as well and continued his task. The quilt had grown over the week. Rachael Schloss was fantastic. What had been a pile of velvet rags had quickly transformed into a work of art. The odd shaped pieces were grouped together in a haphazard pattern, creating blocks that were twelve inches by sixteen inches each, with a crimson satin square in the center of each block. The blocks were sewn together, first with tiny even stitches on the inside, then with elaborate embroidery stitches on the outside. The entire surface was finished. All that remained was to layer it over a wool blanket and a cotton sheet, then to tie the layers together at four-inch intervals and hem the edge. Rachael had explained to Tracy that quilt batting was a terrible thing to put inside a quilt. It wouldn't hold up. A wool blanket was preferable, and would make the quilt an heirloom.

And the quilt now took up most of the trunk. Nick had taken Urs's hope chest up to the cabin last night, privately, as it was too large to sneak around any more. Tracy's quilting frame was also at the cabin. He and Vachon had talked about doing their gift exchange tomorrow evening, as soon as they awoke, and then the girls could use the frame to finish their quilt. Nick was going to leave them at the cabin on Sunday, take Mrs. Schloss to her parents' home, return for them and the luggage, and get back to Toronto before LaCroix's deadline. It wasn't much of a holiday for Nick. And sometime they still had to run through the songs for the policeman's ball. It was a good thing that Christmas only came once a year. It would take him almost a year to recover.

Urs slipped a few more bags into the trunk just before Nick closed it. "Let's go," he called.

Vachon took his guitar out of its case and sat in the back, tuning it. "Can you turn the heater up, Nick? The cold knocks it out of tune."

"Now why would a couple of vampires keep the heater working," Nick joked. Actually, Schanke had the heater replaced just a few years ago. The memory hurt, but it was a sweet kind of pain. He smiled as he recalled his friend and former partner, and all his annoying little habits that Nick had missed so much when he was gone.

Nick pulled away from the curb. He thought he felt LaCroix in his mind for a moment. He opened himself further, searching for the ancient and for some clue to his strange behavior, but LaCroix was no longer there. LaCroix had been surprising him starting from Sunday night, when he reigned in his anger and only took Nick's keys instead of his hide. Could Natalie be responsible? He knew she disapproved of LaCroix's tendency for violence. She had been abused as a child and was overly sensitive to that. But although she was a strong woman and very capable, Nick didn't think she could alter behaviors that were ingrained for 2000 years. What else could it be? Was he still mourning for his mortal daughter, Divia?

Vachon strummed a few bars and nudged Tracy. "Okay, babycakes. Time to warm up your number."

Nick smiled, wondering if there had ever before been a thirty-year-old classic car piled up with vampires, gifts, and Christmas carols in the history of the earth.

"They are hiding something from me," LaCroix snapped. Natalie smiled as she massaged his shoulders. Those firm, Roman muscles were tightened into knots of steel.

"So what if they are? We all keep little secrets, especially this time of year."

"And what does the season have to do with honesty," he demanded.

Natalie laughed. "It is nearly Christmas, Lucien. You know, the gift-giving, overeating, over-spending, hectic time of year that comes between turkey and valentine cards?"

"Vampires do NOT celebrate mortal customs," he sneered.

Natalie's warm hands moved up his shoulders to his neck. The angry tension was shifting into something else that was not undesirable. He rotated his head foreword even as he leaned back into her touch.

"But Tracy is a very new vampire. She doesn't yet know all your rules and customs. Maybe she still wants to celebrate this holiday."

He wasn't thinking about Tracy any more.

Then Nat gasped. "Oh my gosh, that's it!"

He waited impatiently for her to finish the massage. "What is it, Natalie."

"Nick and Tracy have to provide the music for the Policeman's Christmas Ball. Maybe they are afraid to tell you, because they know how you feel about Christmas."

That would make sense. He hadn't actually told them not to do it, and as much as he loathed Christmas gatherings, he would tolerate anything to hear his son perform. He would assure Nick when he returned that doing the concert was permissible. Then he artfully turned the night away from talk of his children to more interesting pastimes.

Warm smells drifted through layers of sleep to lure Nick to wakefulness. He resisted them, rolling over to pull his lover back into his arms. He came up empty. Still more asleep than not, he felt her side of the bed. "Urs?" he whispered.

Drawing in a single deep breath, he caught the scent of wood smoke and pine. Soft snaps and hisses informed him that someone had built a fire. From the living room below he heard movement and humming. Urs was up. Reluctantly, he searched for a robe and tied it around himself before joining her.

"Oh, you're awake," Urs said cheerfully. "Good morning, love."

Nick wrapped her in his arms and kissed her behind the ear. "What got you up so early?"

"You'll see," she answered lightly. "Now go get dressed."

He feigned a sulk for her amusement. "Don't you want to help me?"

"No. Not this evening. Hurry up."

Nick heard Tracy and Vachon stirring as well. Once Tracy was awake no one could continue to sleep. He showered and shaved the stubble from his face, then dressed in casual clothes- black jeans and a sweater. He could just as easily have worn a T-shirt, but he'd learned to dress like mortals long ago and it was almost second nature.

Tracy was full of it. She was always a bubbly, effervescent person, but today she was even more so. Vachon looked half asleep yet, and just nodded at her agreeably. Nick remembered that they were going to give the girls their gifts this evening, and mentally ran through a checklist to recall if everything was ready. He'd placed Urs's chest in the small, unfinished bathroom last night, and Tracy's frame was in a box, all wrapped up. He would have to assemble it later, but it was much easier to give in the box.

Urs brought out their breakfast, filling each glass with warmed liquid. Nick lighted the candles on their tree. The candles were growing shorter. They wouldn't last much longer. Christmas was only a week away and the Ball was in five days. Nick usually worked all religious holidays, but this year he and Tracy had both been given off. He was going to have to work on New Years- but everyone had to work New Years this year, what with all the millennium hype that had been steadily building.

Tracy and Vachon snuggled on the couch, so Nick sat in the love seat. Urs pulled a package out from under the Christmas tree and handed it to him. "This is for you, love, from both of us," she said softly.

Nick stared at the red-wrapped gift. It felt heavy, like a book. He could easily count on one hand the gifts he'd received in the last century. LaCroix had given him a watch, and Nat a silver pill box. Or maybe the watch was last century? He blinked away tears that threatened to embarrass him.

Tracy was giggling nervously. "Go ahead, open it! It isn't going to explode."

Nick examined the package again and carefully peeled back the tape. Then he removed the wrapping. It was a book, of sorts. The cover was brocade fabric. He opened it and stared at an 8X10 of himself and Urs. It was a close-up of their faces; the background was blurred but it was the Raven. Nick turned the page to see another photo and then another, of the happy night he and Urs had celebrated their new love with the vampire community. Wordlessly, he turned more pages. Now he found pictures of his friends, both mortal and vampire. Vachon, Tracy, Natalie, pictures of him at the precinct from the welcome-back party they had thrown for him after the night he'd spent in lock-up....

"How did you get all this pictures without me knowing it?" he asked, incredulously.

"It's easy, Nick. Whenever you're zoned out, you aren't very observant. And Schultz took the party pictures. Do you like it?" Tracy sounded anxious.

Nick grinned at her. "Sure thing, Baby. It's perfect, thank you." He pulled Urs into his lap and kissed her, then he kissed Tracy as well.

Urs took a second package from under the tree and gave it to Vachon. "We don't want you boys to feel neglected," she said, lightly teasing.

"It's from both of us," Tracy amended while Vachon tore the wrapping off with more skill than Nick had.

Vachon held a book as well. It was a fake book, a collection of songs including holiday music and popular tunes.

"I know you can play everything that's on the radio, but I thought, that if folks at the Ball made a request or something, that maybe you'd like to have the words," Tracy explained.

Vachon grinned. "So you wouldn't have to sing them, huh? Thanks, Tracy... Urs. That was really sweet of you both. And we got you something, too," he said.

Urs looked surprised, but Tracy was pleased. She was thrilled with the leather biker jacket Vachon gave her that was identical to his, only smaller. She couldn't wait for the snowy roads to clear up so they could ride together again. And the dangerous, black-leather look was certainly one that was growing on her.

Vachon gave Urs a guitar. "It's time you learned to play," he said. "To go along with your voice." He stammered with embarrassment. Gift giving wasn't something he'd had much practice with.

"Thank you," she said, deeply touched at the unexpected gesture from her sire.

"I can help you learn, if you like," Vachon stammered. "Or Nick can."

Nick got up then and carried the box into the living room. He hadn't bothered to wrap it, as it was too big, and wrapping gifts was a fairly recent custom- in the past century. Urs and Tracy watched wide-eyed curious as he set it down in front of the tree.

"This is for you," he said to Urs, although her name had been painted on the front of the box with a soft, swirling design of ivy leaves and flowers. Tucked under the ivy was a cuddly little bear cub, Nick's occasional nickname for her.

Urs touched the velvety-smooth surface of the chest in awe. Then she opened the lid. Inside it was empty, but for a small tray made of cedar. The whole box smelled wonderfully of pine, cedar, varnish and fresh paint. Almost reverently she closed the lid. She turned to him with tear-filled eyes.

"It's a hope chest," Nick explained. "I don't know what you put in them, but I guess it's a girl thing. You could keep just about anything, I suppose..."

Urs interrupted his nervous speech by kissing him. "Thank you, my love! It is wonderful! I've never owned anything half as nice. I will treasure it always!"

"That was really sweet, Nick," Tracy said.

Nick enjoyed the kiss until he felt the nervousness becoming desire, then he broke away. "I need to get Tracy's gift," he whispered huskily.

This box was wrapped. It wasn't very big, considering what it held, but it was heavy. He set it on Tracy's lap and stood back to watch her. Urs pulled a small camera from the mantle and snapped a shot while Tracy unwrapped it.

The box was plain, without picture or words to convey the contents. Then she lifted the lid. Inside were all the parts and pieces of the quilting frame. It was unpainted, sturdy oak pieces, with shiny brass parts. Nick had her first name engraved on a brass plate and attached to a main support. She looked at the parts and up at him questioningly.

"It's a quilting frame, Tracy," he explained. "I'll put it together for you shortly. I thought you might need it to finish the quilt."

Tracy stared back at the box of pieces. Then she set it down carefully and flew into his arms kissing his neck and ears repeatedly. "Oh thank you thank you thank you! That is so sweet! You are something else, brother! I love you!"

Nick smiled broadly. No wonder LaCroix hated gift exchanges, when they were so fraught with emotion. He was glad that they had chosen to do this privately. He made a toast about friends and family and they drank with him. After singing a few songs, a brief rehearsal for the ball, he put the frame together. Urs and Tracy read a small paper leaflet in the box of how to attach the quilt to the frame. Within an hour they began the process of tying the quilt layers.

Vachon rolled his expressive eyes as the girls got to work. He opened the fake book and tuned his guitar. Nick lifted Urs's new guitar and joined him. Together, they sang through half the book before the night was over. Nick could not remember a Christmas he had ever enjoyed more.

Nick bid farewell to the vampires as early Sunday evening as he could safely go outside. He had a lot of miles to go tonight. Thank goodness it was winter solstice, and he had the longest night of the year in which to get it all done. He drove as fast as he dared to the loft.

Mrs. Schloss had her children ready and waiting, and the small bags of things he had bought for them over the week. The loft had been cleaned and scrubbed. She was definitely leaving it cleaner than she'd found it. She seemed nervous and excited at the same time. Her children were unusually quiet.

He carried her bags down to the Caddy and helped her settle the children in the back seat. As he drove off towards her father's farm the silence grew heavy with a scent of fear.

"Aren't you looking forward to meeting your grandparents," Nick asked Rueben, smelling his fear the most.

"No."

Nick glanced at Mrs. Schloss beside him. She shrugged. "I have not told him anything about my father. I do not know why he is nervous."

"Grandfathers can be pretty nice," Nick said, although he had no memory of one himself, not mortal or vampire.

"Your kids won't like their grandfather," the boy blurted. Nick coughed. He didn't have kids, and he never would, but where had the child got an idea like that. Nick asked him.

"Your father is scary. I don't think he likes me," the boy said.

"Rueben! Mr. LaCroix has been nothing but polite to us! You will apologize at once!"

Nick shook his head. "No, Rachael. That's quite all right. He is right. LaCroix doesn't care for children. But he is not like most fathers." That was an understatement. Nick almost grinned.

Rachael swallowed, guilt radiating from her in sheets. "Your father brought them crayons and coloring books, candy, puzzles, juice... he was very polite and helpful."

Nick was shocked. "LaCroix?"

Rueben was apologetic. "He did bring us toys. But he is still scary."

"I'll agree with you there, Rueben. He can still scare me sometimes, too."

"He hardly knows his own father," Mrs. Schloss was saying. "And I have told him nothing of his grandfather. You and Mr. LaCroix are almost the only men he's met."

"Well there's time now," Nick suggested. "Tell them a story about your home, and maybe they will not be as anxious."

Rachael sighed. Nick recognized the look of one lost in memories. She seemed to sift through a few before selecting the ones she would share. "Papa loves children," she began. "He is as different from your father and Nick's father, as the big city is from home." She described then several happy memories, of simple Christmases as a child, of fishing with her father, visiting neighbors on Sundays, or attending barn raisings. Her Amish children had been so isolated, that not only did they not know anything of the "Englishers", but also they knew very little about other Amish.

"Are we going to live with them now?" Sarah asked. She sounded unsure.

"I don't know," Rachael answered honestly. "We will stay with them for now, and Mr. Knight is going to continue looking for your papa. And we will leave the rest in God's hands."

The children grew quiet and the traveling lulled them to sleep. Nick glanced at Rachael. She looked worried. Her hands were clenched tightly and her pulse was too rapid. Nick wished he could tell her that everything would be all right, but he wouldn't lie to her.

"I took the quilt to three different dealers to have it appraised," he said.

Rachael looked at him blankly.

"Dealers, people who make a living buying and selling products. These dealers sell quilts and other home crafts in their upscale shops, appealing to a market that values well-made items but cannot afford the time to make them." Nick could see that he was losing her. There didn't seem to be a way to explain it clearly. He'd just gloss over it and get to the point, then. "The average appraised value of Tracy's quilt was $2,000, since it was personalized, although they promised a base-rate of $800 for any quilt you would send them."

Rachael blinked. She understood the dollar amounts, but it was overwhelming. She'd never sold anything before, and her mother used to sell eggs to a neighbor for pennies...

Nick reached into his coat pocket and withdrew an envelope. He passed it to her. "This is for your work on the quilt," he explained.

She opened it and drew out a thick stack of paper money. "But, Tracy did much of it, and Urs as well. I only helped!"

"Yes, and you taught them both. I should give you more for their apprenticeship."

"This is too much!"

"Keep it. Please. You have made Tracy very, very happy. And the quilt is a masterpiece. You may have need for this. Now you can stay with your father, without being a burden."

Rachael wept, burying her face in the paper money. Nick drove on, silent for a time. "Rachael," he said then. "If you make more quilts, these dealers want them. It can give you some independence, and you won't have to make any major decisions for a long time. How long will it take you to make one?"

She counted the money twice, then put it back in the envelope and into her bag. "I can make a "fence-rail" quilt in two weeks. Some patterns take longer. The wedding ring is the most popular, and it would take me six weeks. But less, if my sisters help. I have five sisters."

"Shall I tell the dealers then that you are interested?"

"Yes! Yes, do. I cannot wait to tell my mother. Oh, if we had been making quilts seven years ago, I do not think I would have married Joseph."

Nick hesitated. He glanced at the three sleeping children in the back seat.

"Oh, I love them, Mr. Knight. And I don't regret a thing. But, I'm sorry for Joseph. I don't think I ever really loved him. Not like a woman should love a man. And I am sorry, because I am afraid that he is dead, and somehow I can't help but feel it is my fault."

"It is not your fault," he said firmly. "It is the fault of whoever took advantage of him. And I won't rest until I find him."

Rachael nodded. She stared out into the dark, looking for the familiar landmarks that brought her closer and closer to the only place she'd ever called home.

Nick followed her directions once they left the highways until he turned on to a gravel road. It was only about 9 PM, but the quiet farmhouse was very dark when they approached.

"I maybe should have written them, to tell them I was coming, but I thought I might get here before the mail anyway," Rachael said.

Nick turned off the engine and got out, lifting Sarah, who was sound asleep. Rueben, although a year younger, was stubbornly fighting his own exhaustion, as he tried to be manly. He shouldered two of their bags, leaving Rachael with only one bag and the baby. Nick followed her closely, offering his silent support. He knew only too well how awkward family reunions could be.

Rachael knocked, hesitantly at first, and then with more conviction. Nick heard scuffling sounds as someone lit a lamp and came to the door.

"Who's there," a gruff, male voice asked in Old German, and then in English.

"Papa, it is I, Rachael."

"Rachael?" The voice cracked. The door was thrown open and the lamp lit up the front porch. The man didn't quite stand up straight, his shoulders and back looked worn out from years of hard work. His dark beard was shot with gray. But his eyes were bright and intelligent, and the smile was genuine. Then, his voice boomed. "Mama! Come down at once! Our Rachael is here!"

He held the door open and gestured them all to come inside. He stared curiously at Nick, at his mostly shaven face and modern clothing.

"Papa, this is not Jacob. My husband is missing. This is Detective Knight. He is looking for Jacob and he's been helping me until he can be found. It is all a very long story."

Her father seemed satisfied. He held out a hand and welcomed Nick heartily. Then he smiled at the children and tears filled his eyes. "And who are these? My grandchildren? Have you at last brought them to me?"

Mary and Sarah hardly stirred from their slumber, but Rueben approached and held out his hand manfully. "Good evening, grandpa," he said. His young face was very serious.

The old man shook his hand with as much dignity as he would a visiting adult. "Good evening. You must be Rueben. Your mama wrote to me about you sometimes." A pointed glance at Rachael warned her that her letter-writing skills needed improvement. She had the grace to blush. Then her mother flew down the stairs, having hastily thrown on her clothes first. She hugged her daughter, tears streaming down her face. "My Rachael! I have missed you so! Come in, are you hungry? How about some tea?"

Nick felt awkward in the center of their reunion. The strong emotions were taunting the vampire, and the love called out to his mortal self with longing. He had a lot of miles to cover yet before dawn. "Rachael, I must be going. I will let you know as soon as I hear anything."

She nodded. "God go with you, Mr. Knight," she said.

When he returned to the cabin, he was pleasantly surprised to see that they were ready and waiting for him. The quilt was finished and wrapped, their bags packed. Urs had decided to leave her chest in the cabin for now, but Tracy had taken her quilting frame apart and carefully packed it back into the box to bring it home. "Home," Nick thought as he sighed. Rachael had returned to a home she had left seven years ago. Her parents had welcomed her with open arms, and it was as though she had never left. Nick's loft was empty again. He could go there tonight, but somehow it didn't seem much like home now.

"We can stay with LaCroix until you are ready," Urs said, reading his thoughts fairly accurately.

Nick smiled at her. "Thanks."

Even with the long night and pushing the speed limits dangerously, it was still nearly dawn before he parked behind the Raven. He had missed LaCroix's 5:00 deadline, but not by much. Tracy was nearly asleep on her feet, but Vachon and Urs helped to unload the Caddy. Then together they went upstairs.

LaCroix said nothing but merely raised his eyebrow at his tardy children. Urs quietly went into their bedroom, suspecting that Nick wanted a moment alone with his maker.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Nick began, although he wasn't sure an apology was necessary.

"It was a long trip to the Amish farm. I am pleased that you are home safely."

Nick helped himself to a glass and offered one to LaCroix as well. The ancient nodded. Silently they settled on the couch and chair in the living room. It was a companionable silence. Nick sipped the beverage and let the tension from driving leave. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed at the base of his neck. Maybe he could get Urs to give him a backrub.

"I have learned that you will be giving a concert," LaCroix said.

Nick nodded absently. "Well, it isn't really a concert, as such. I'll be providing more like back-ground music at a party."

"A Christmas party," his master stated, the distaste obvious.

"Yes."

"I would like to attend, if you don't mind," LaCroix said.

Nick glanced up with surprise. "Of course, you're welcome to come," he rushed to say. "It is for the police force and their families. I already got your ticket. But, I didn't think you would want to come."

LaCroix smiled. Natalie had been right. She was young and inexperienced, but she had a unique insight, at least where Nicholas was concerned. "I will endure the folderol of garish decorations and disgusting human platitudes. You know I love to hear you play."

Nick got up then and pulled something from his coat pocket. He handed it to his master. "Here's the ticket. And, if you wanted to bring Natalie, I mean, if she wants to go with you, that is, I won't object."

LaCroix accepted the ticket and held his son's hand for a moment. Then, standing, he pulled Nick into an embrace. They wouldn't share the bloodkiss tonight. Urs was waiting for Nick, and LaCroix was tired and well sated. But, it was comforting to know that his children no longer needed to hide from him. "Good day, Nicholas," he said.

Nick returned the embrace. "Good day, LaCroix."

The night of the Christmas Ball finally arrived. The other officers had been alternately teasing Nick and wishing him well on his performance. Reese had reminded him several times that a lot of "important" people were going to be attending and Nick had better not let him down. Tracy tried to welch out of her songs, but Nick appealed to her sense of duty and guilt that she was not going to make him do this alone.

Now, he was all dressed and hiding in his Caddy outside the Black Wolf lodge where a large banquet room had been reserved. He and Vachon were dressed in traditional black tuxedoes, and Urs wore a black sequined evening gown. Only Tracy was dressed for the holiday. She had complained loudly about her costume, and Nick teased her, threatening to whammy her into wearing it. Vachon told her she would be adorable. Urs kept out of it. Then Tracy grinned and decided she'd go along with them... as payback was more fun than arguing. So she wore green tights and a red velvet jacket and shorts, elfin shoes and a red stocking cap with white fur around the brim. With her innate enthusiasm and short, blonde hair, she even looked like an elf.

Together, they entered the lodge and waited outside the banquet room. The guests had all been fed first, and the musicians could have attended that part of the party, but the four vampires had little need for the roast beef dinner. Now the waiters were clearing away the dishes and food, and the emcee was telling a few seasonal jokes while he drew the first names for the door prizes.

"You know why Santa is so jolly," he said, "because he knows where all the naughty girls live." The audience laughed, some louder than others. Joe Reese's name was called. He went to claim his gift, a Christmas fruit basket with chocolates and candy canes. A rookie Nick didn't recognize won a champagne gift basket and blushed crimson at the jokes that suggested he wasn't old enough to drink it legally. Then the emcee said there would be another drawing later and he announced the musicians. Vachon had picked the name for their impromptu group: "The Knightmares".

There were whistles and cheers as they came into the room. Nick and Vachon bowed, Urs gracefully curtsied, but Tracy was bouncing around foolishly. She plopped into Joe Reese's lap and gave him a candy cane. She was hamming up her elf-role, Nick realized with a groan. Well, if this didn't work out, he could lay the blame on her.

Nick played "Carol of the Bells" first. It was a simple little tune, but was always very popular, and was quite original with Vachon's guitar accompaniment. Urs sang it, first in its original Polish, and then in the English.

By the end of the song there were toes tapping all around the room. They did three more seasonal favorites, then they played some dance numbers.

No one danced at first. Denise Reese dragged her husband onto the floor, and a few other brave souls joined them. Dancing had changed a lot over the years, Nick thought absently as he watched the mortals clinging to each other and gyrating more or less rhythmically.

Then he sensed a stir and glanced up to see his master enter. LaCroix was attired in his usual black tux, but beneath the jacket was a shirt of Christmas green. He wore a novelty tie of candy stripe red and white. Natalie wore a floor-length gown of Christmas green, elegantly paired with pearls, but a whimsical red and white fur cap topped her chestnut hair. LaCroix smiled at his children as he led Natalie onto the dance floor.

Nick signaled Vachon and they ended the popular number, shifting into a set of slower dances beginning with the Christmas Waltz. Urs sang the simple words with her husky contralto, and the song had never sounded lovelier...

It's that time of year.
When the world falls in love,
Ev'ry song you hear seems to say:
"Merry Christmas,
May your New Year dreams come true"
And this song of mine,
In three-quarter time
Wishes you and yours the same thing too.

Tracy bounced around the banquet hall, pulling couples out of their chairs and pushing them onto the dance floor. No one else could have got away with something like that, but the effervescent Tracy even hauled the Mayor and his wife. She brazenly kissed the Mayor on the cheek and handed a candy cane to his wife. The assembled officers and their families applauded. The mayor blushed, but he gracefully took his wife's hand and let her in the waltz.

"Tracy seems to be enjoying herself," Nat observed.

LaCroix tried to grimace, but she noticed a grin was not far away. "Yes, I supposed I should have waited a decade before making her immortal. I fear she will never "grow up" now."

"She's just what you stuffy old vampires need," Natalie whispered for his benefit alone.

"Stuffy!"

Natalie started to make a retort, but LaCroix tightened his hold on her and moved suddenly into a broader, faster waltz, swirling her at dizzying speed. She dug her fingers into the shoulder of his suit, but the fact remained that only his hand on her back kept her from tumbling.

LaCroix waltzed with grace and flair. The other dancers moved aside to watch the couple in astonishment. They had always thought there was something between the Knightmare and the Coroner, and here she was in the arms of his father. Her expression ended any further rumors. She gazed at the elder, distinguished gentleman with obvious desire.

The set of waltzes ended. Tracy sang her first number, "I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus", and then the band took a break. They drifted over to the bar where Nick was surprised to see Patrick working. The Raven's bartender passed beverages to the vampires and grinned.

"Lucien, do you bring your own bartender everywhere you go?" Nat asked lightly.

"How else would you expect your musicians to behave themselves all night?" he answered. He knew how performing could tie his son up in knots. No matter how well Nicholas had fed first, his nerves would make him hungry again.

Tracy threw her arms around LaCroix's neck and kissed him loudly, then tucked a candy cane in his breast pocket. She grinned at the surprised expression he gave her. "I can't get away with that under normal circumstances," she explained. "But, have a merry evening anyway, LaCroix!"

"Nicholas, before your group does another concert, I think Tracy should be in an evening gown," the ancient suggested.

Nick shrugged. Tracy was a hit. He could hear the conversations all over the room. Even the mayor thought she was adorable. "I'm glad you came," Nick said sincerely. Then the Knightmares returned to playing.

Joe Reese came to the bar and ordered drinks. "Good evening, Mr. LaCroix, Natalie," he said cautiously.

Nat smiled. "Hello, Joe. Denise, how are the girls?" The women eased away from the men as they talked. Reese eyed the formidable father before him. There was something about that man. It made the hair on his neck tingle with that premonition of danger that had saved his life on more than one occasion. The ice blue eyes wore a guarded look, and his expression was carefully concealed. Reese had been certain that the man was not all he appeared to be. He had even started to investigate him once. He dropped it when he'd learned of his relationship with Nick, but something in his gut demanded he start again. He glanced away and smiled as the Knightmares began to play one of his favorite songs.

"He's good," Reese said with honest admiration. Then he scowled at LaCroix. "He's a good man."

LaCroix almost laughed. He was aware of the captain's undercurrent of tension. The police captain neither liked nor trusted him. To be honest, that made LaCroix admire him more. The man had good instincts, which might help protect his children. He saw the captain's scowl deepen that his comment had amused him. But then, Nick was neither good nor a man! He wasn't even a good vampire. Of course, that might make him more of a good man in the captain's eyes, but that was a circular argument.

Something about their relationship bothered Reese. They were so different. He knew LaCroix was only a foster father, so no physical similarities could be expected. But surely they should have something else in common- opinions, or gestures, or patterns of speech- something to show for the formative years LaCroix had shared with his son. "What were his parents like," Reese asked abruptly. He was surprised that he had spoken out loud what he had been thinking.

LaCroix gave him his full attention, turning those cold, hard eyes on him. Reese felt his heart rate increase and wondered at the art of intimidation that this man wielded so expertly. And then it struck him. That was the common bond. Nick intimidated more than half the force, and quite effortlessly. Reese was sure Nick wasn't even aware of doing it much of the time.

"His parents died a long, long time ago," LaCroix said quietly. There was steel in his voice. "He has no memory of them whatsoever. I am the only father he knows."

Reese swallowed the knot of fear and squared his shoulders. He was a tall man, but this man was taller still. He wanted to end this conversation, but he would do anything legally possible to let this man know that he was being watched and he'd better not harm his detective again. "He is a good man," Reese stated again. "Any man would be proud to call him "son"." Then, cupping Denise's elbow firmly he whispered into her ear. "Shall we dance?"

Natalie watched them leave as she moved closer to her date. "What was that all about?"

LaCroix dismissed the couple with a gesture. "Nothing, my dear. But he was right about one thing. Shall we dance?"

LaCroix and Natalie remained at the Ball until midnight, before he took her home. "You're welcome to come to Raven," he said, nibbling at her ear. He smiled at catch in her voice when she spoke.

"I'd love to, but another time, I'm afraid." She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Kissing in the hallway was certain to feed the apartment gossips, but she didn't care. Now that the precinct knew, she might as well take out a column in the newspaper and advertise it to the entire city.

LaCroix brought her fingertips to his lips and kissed them tenderly. "I am having a private party at the Raven on Saturday night. Would you give me the honor of your company?"

Natalie gazed at him curiously. Saturday was Christmas. She knew he would not celebrate the holiday. Was this his concession for Tracy? To do something special on this day to ease her into her new culture? "Will I be the only mortal there?" she asked.

He gave a slight lift of his chin as though that was to be expected. "You will be perfectly safe, my dear."

That hadn't actually been her first thought, but now that she mentioned it, it didn't really make a lot of sense to walk into a private party of vampires. But then, all of her best friends were vampires now. Nick would be there, as well as Tracy, Vachon, Urs,... the young vampires who had helped to rescue Nick from Flavius last month.... "I wouldn't miss it," she said, surprising herself.

LaCroix smiled. "I shall come for you at dusk."

Natalie pushed open her door. Sydney jumped into her arms and started to knead his paws into her shoulder painfully while revving up his purr machine. She petted him distractedly. For years he had been her best friend and only companion. Now her life was filled with vampires. Where was it going to lead? "Come, Sydney," she said softly. "Let me change out of this dress, and then I'll play with you. It's been a while, hasn't it? Do you forgive me?"

The cat purred his affection, even as his claws inflicted just a little pain in her shoulder. He was getting even, in his own cat-like way. Natalie kissed him, burying her nose in his long, fluffy coat. "I hope you and Lucien get along. I'd hate to have to chose between you."

Nick had been playing for hours. Urs sang until her voice was sore, then after a refreshment from Patrick, she sang some more. Vachon's guitar was almost an extension of his own arms, he played tirelessly, oblivious to the roomful of mortals. Only Tracy had played out. The red and green elf sat at a table in the corner, her feet up on the chair and her head resting on folded arms on the table. Some of the guests had left, but the mortals who remained gave no sign of leaving any time soon. Urs suspected that they had attracted a few party-crashers from the motel as well, for some of them were completely unfamiliar. She smiled at her lover. He was so involved with the piano that he was unaware of anything or anyone else.

She moved behind him and massaged his shoulders. Nick sighed contentedly. Urs leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "How much longer, my love?"

"Hm?"

"How long are we supposed to play? Sunrise is not far off. Tracy's asleep, and I'm about dead on my feet. Is the party almost over?"

Nick looked at her like one just waking from a long dream. "It is late, isn't it?"

Urs smiled. "Time for bed, and a massage, I'm sure."

His grin was devilish. "What do you say, Vachon? Call it quits?"

The Spaniard shrugged agreeably. "Whatever. Hey, this was nice, Knight. I'm not sure I want to do it again, mind you, but it was fun."

Nick closed the lid over the keyboard and went to the microphone. He thanked the audience, wished them a happy holiday, and said good night. Some complained, pleading with him to keep playing, but the majority just clapped. "Great job, Knight," they cheered. "See you next year!"

Next year... maybe. If they were still here.

Nick had received an invitation to one of LaCroix's private parties. He had enjoyed the last one and would have gone willingly, but this invitation annoyed him in that it sounded more like a command. Urs told him he was being silly, which did nothing for his disposition.

"It will be the perfect time to give him the quilt," Urs reminded him.

He shrugged. "Well, we're going. Whether we want to or not."

She kissed him provocatively on his neck. "Smile, my love. You know it makes you irresistible."

"You are impossible," he hissed through his fangs, pinning her against the wall.

Urs nipped him playfully. "We need to go. You don't want to be late."

Nick groaned, but she was right. "Anything you want to bring? I'm sure we'll spend the day there."

Urs shook her head. She'd left clothing at the Raven, as she was never certain where they would end up. Nick took her hand then and rose through the skylight. The Caddy could spend the snowy evening in the garage.

The Raven seemed different somehow when they arrived. Nick looked around anxiously. LaCroix wasn't here... but he had said he would be going to pick up Natalie. Patrick was behind the bar. But Vachon was not on the stage. Instead, Larry Merlin was setting up his sound equipment. Nick went to see him.

"Changing your line of work?"

Merlin gave a crooked little smile. "Not hardly. I'm just playing DJ tonight. Someone suggested kareoke and LaCroix gave the band the night off."

Nick returned his smile. The Raven was changing. Although the fire still slipped into his nightmares at times, it had burned out the classless black leather, strippers and chains atmosphere. Everything inside now was new looking. The vampire decorators kept it dark, and just a little dangerous, but the ambience was more intimate, more romantic. Red votive candles flickered on every table and booth. A pool table was set in the far corner near the restrooms, and a dartboard in a back corner. Two small television sets were suspended from the ceiling, to appease the football and hockey crowds, and the bar offered free peanuts to mortals. The decorator had reminded LaCroix that peanuts, being salty, encouraged mortals to drink more and therefore spend more, but more importantly, peanuts had no vile odor. Now, the Raven was someplace Nick wouldn't mind spending his nights off.

He accepted a glass Patrick offered him and leaned back against the bar. He recognized everyone there. It was incredible, really. He, who had turned away from his own kind for over a century, was now thick in the community, respected by many and even loved by a few. He knew it would not last. Vampires were transient by nature. But he felt a sense of belonging. No matter where he went, he would meet these vampire friends again. They were the forever kind of friends. Maybe they weren't all the buddy kind, the friends that he would want to spend time with, but they were the kind that would be there if they were needed. And that was the best kind to have.

The Raven's door opened then, and LaCroix entered with Natalie. He descended the stairs like a king, and she was his queen. Nick gazed at her admiringly. She looked lovely tonight. Nick tightened his arm around Urs and kissed her.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Great," he whispered. "Better than great. I'm in love."

Tracy tried the kareoke first, singing tunelessly away on something that was unfamiliar to Nick. LaCroix and Natalie came to stand beside him.

"Good evening, Nicholas," the ancient said calmly.

Nick put down his irritation with his master and forced a smile. "Same to you. I like what you've done with the place."

"Pool is so plebian," his master sneered. "But the customers seem to enjoy it."

Natalie snickered. "Now you've done it, Lucien. Now you're going to have to shoot a game of pool with me."

He looked faintly horrified, which made Nick laugh.

"Doubles," Nick challenged. "Urs and I will play against you both."

"Later then," LaCroix hedged. "If you'll excuse me, I think I am needed somewhere." He slipped away, presumably to discuss something with his staff.

Natalie laughed. "For such an intimidating vampire, he spooks easily."

"Not really," Nick said. "You just hit the right buttons."

Natalie smiled at Patrick as he handed her an ordinary glass of wine. She would hold it until it was empty, she vowed, afraid to mix it up with something noxious. "I feel a little intimidated myself," she confessed under her breath.

"Why?"

Nat looked at his innocent blue eyes and almost laughed. Ever since LaCroix had told her the story of how he'd met Nick, it had changed how she saw him. "You can't be serious, Nick. I'm the only mortal here, in a crowd of vampires. Shouldn't I be concerned?"

Nick blushed. It was hard to tell on a vampire, but Nat could read the signs. He looked down at his hands and found his glass very absorbing. A faint color shaded pale cheeks. Urs glanced away. Then she nudged Nick and said she'd see him later. Nat grabbed Nick's arm and dragged him to a booth. "Okay, Nick. Spit it out."

He gave her the clueless look, but she wasn't going to buy it this time. "Why should I not feel concerned to be here tonight! If you won't tell me, I'll start asking every vampire in the room until I find one bold enough."

Nick gasped. "Nat, don't! Please, don't."

She waited impatiently. "Nick. You were always so protective. You never wanted to bring me in here."

"We were never lovers," he whispered.

Nat swallowed. Nick knew about that? She hadn't told anyone. Her best friend, Grace, was too big a gossip. And LaCroix didn't seem like the kind to share anything, let alone his latest conquest. "Who says Lucien and I are?" she demanded.

"No one has to say it, Natalie," he stammered. "But nevertheless, everyone here knows it."

Natalie felt herself blush now. "Explain."

"He has taken your blood, and planted his seed within you," the knight whispered, slipping into ancient terms in his embarrassment. "You carry his aura, his presence. No one would dare cross him, so you are very, very safe."

"Oh, my gosh," Nat blurted. "Maybe I should just go home?"

"No, please don't," Nick said. "He will blame me for ruining his party, I'm sure."

Natalie felt very awkward. She eyed the vampires, imagining them talking about her, even though she couldn't really hear them.

"Do not be upset," Nick said. "This is our way. We can always tell who has been with whom, mortal or vampire. It isn't a big deal among us."

"Okay," Nat challenged. "Then it seems fair that I should know their sordid love lives, too. Whom has he been with," she said, pointing at a vampire near the pool table.

Nick laughed. This seemed like a harmless enough game. He pointed to another vampire that carried the same aura. Nat raised her eyebrows at that, but continued. She pointed out person after person, trying to remember the couples, trios, and quartets of lovers that Nick described. That everyone there had a lover was incredible. Mortal bars could not compare, as they were often the playing fields for wishful singles.

"Are you satisfied now?" he asked, when she seemed to run out of vampires.

"I guess," she sighed. "Nick. Are you okay?"

He sipped from his glass then set it aside. He looked at her intently and took her hand in his. "I am fine, Natalie. I am sorry, for all that I put you through for six years. For not being able to give you what you wanted or needed."

"Nick, it's okay. You didn't ask for my help. In fact, you tried repeatedly to push me away. I am the one who tried to move us into a more intimate relationship. That night you'd lost your memories, I almost succeeded. And I was furious with LaCroix for trying to keep you to himself. But now I think that from the very beginning he was attracted to me."

"Are you happy, Natalie?"

"Oh, yes!" She exclaimed with deep-felt emotion. Her eyes lit up and her blush deepened. "I am very happy with him. He isn't perfect, of which I'm sure you're well aware. But he is so different around me. I just pray that you and I can move beyond this awkwardness and remain best friends."

"Natalie, do you think you will join him? Become a vampire?"

She was thoughtful for long moments. She studied this complex creature before her. She hadn't done any experiments or tests towards achieving his quest in the past four months. Although she felt that it was a betrayal of their friendship, he also had not asked her for a progress report. She hoped he would not give up his quest, as it was such an integral part of him, but also, she hoped that he would stop for a while. That she would stop. She was no longer prepared to help him to die.

"Yes, Nick. I think I will. Some day. But not now, and not for a few years. I have to be very, very certain."

Nick took her fingers then and kissed them. He gave her the wide, friendly smile that had always stopped her heart from beating. Now she felt warm and fuzzy, but recognized it as deep affection. "Somehow, I just never pictured you as Tracy's little sister," Nick said lightly, his eyes sparking with mischief.

Natalie laughed as well. "If you'll excuse me, Nick, I think I'll go find that ancient coward. See you by the pool table later?"

Nick smiled as she left. He searched the crowd for his lover. Urs felt him looking for her and quickly she joined him in the dark booth. Within moments her fangs found his throat and they exchanged intimacy in the crowded vampire bar. And they were not the only vampires thus engaged.

After midnight, as the vampires mellowed and the party quieted, Tracy again approached the microphone. Instead of a song, though, she called for everyone's attention. Nick, Urs, and Vachon joined her on the stage, lending their support and concealing the large package behind them.

The bar quieted. LaCroix glanced up curiously. This one was often amusing. He pulled Natalie closer and waited.

"I think almost everyone here knows what's coming," Tracy said, sounding nervous.

Nick held his breath. If only there were a god for vampires, he would pray that the ancient would behave himself, and be properly grateful. But Nick was terrified that his master would fly into a rage, beat Tracy, maybe Nick, and tear the quilt to shreds. He felt almost sick with worry.

"I know I'm the baby in the room, and there is so much I have yet to learn, but I just want to tell all of you that you're the greatest. You've been supportive and understanding, and I really love you all. But the one I want to thank the most is my master. LaCroix, father, you've been patient, wise, encouraging, informative, and loving. I owe you so much. I owe you my life several times over. And my love, and my forever respect. So, I have, we have... all of us, have made you a gift, as a sign of our deep affection. LaCroix, would you please come up here?"

LaCroix stiffened. His face became a stony mask. He hated emotionalism. Hadn't he taught his children anything? Natalie was speaking to him. "Go on," she said. "Behave yourself and be nice!"

The vampire crowd parted, and they clapped as he approached the stage. He climbed the three stairs in the side, standing obstinately on the edge.

Nick then carried a large package and presented it to him. "Please, father," he whispered, unable to say what was in his heart.

LaCroix gazed into the expressive eyes of his son. This was important to him. LaCroix forced his anger down and tried to accept the gift graciously. To do otherwise would ruin the party, and perhaps even the tentative reconciliation with Nicholas. He swallowed and took the gift.

It was not that heavy, considering it's size. Slowly he removed the paper wrappings, then lifted the cardboard box top. Inside was dark velvet. Nick supported the box, while LaCroix slowly pulled the velvet out. It unfolded, a large heavy blanket. It was made up of many pieces of velvet and satin artfully stitched together into a quilt. LaCroix was speechless.

The satin squares were embroidered with words. He read one signed by Caspian, a short friendly note that promised of a renewed friendship. The next one was Trevor's, thanking him for finding him a new home. There was one from Vachon, and Urs. LaCroix felt strange. He searched through the squares, knowing that Tracy and Nick had each made one, too. There was Tracy's, repeating much of what she'd announced over the microphone. And then his eyes fell on Nick's.

"Forever yours, Nicholas."

LaCroix blinked past the sudden tears.

"Tracy made it," Nick said, his nervousness making his words come out in a rush. "Urs helped her, and so did Mrs. Schloss. She worked for weeks to get everyone to sign it, and then she embroidered it herself."

LaCroix read Nick's square again and gazed into his son's face. "Do you mean it, Nicholas?"

Nick nodded.

LaCroix wrapped him in a firm embrace then, for once heedless of the tears that fell. Tracy came over hesitantly, and LaCroix included her in the family hug. He kissed her forehead. "Thank you, my daughter," he said huskily. "Thank you both. I am deeply touched."

Tracy smiled. She caught one of his tears on her tongue and knew just how touched he was. The vampires and Natalie applauded then. LaCroix held his children close, kissing them publicly. Then he straightened. Going to the microphone, he made a short speech.

"Thank you, all of you, who helped my daughter by signing her gift. And thank you for coming here tonight, to celebrate with us. To my children, I find I am quite without words of my own. And so, in the words of Robert Herrick, which are no less sincere for not being original, let me say this..." LaCroix looked at his son and daughter, so much alike, so very different, both so dependent on him. Then he said, "Thou are my life, my love, my heart, the very eyes of me. And hast command of every part, to live and die for thee." Quickly, he left the stage.

Nick tacked the quilt up on the wall behind the stage using hooks and safety pins that Urs had provided, so that the guests could admire it, but it was also out of accident's way.

Natalie hugged LaCroix and kissed him. "That was sweet," she said.

He strove to keep his Roman decorum, but the telltale tears still stained his cheeks. He crushed her to him in a firm embrace. "I hope that you are almost ready to leave. It must be time to seek more interesting diversions upstairs."

Natalie laughed. "Soon, Lucien, I will let you escape. For now, you can be a good little vampire and endure the emotional tidings of your guests."

"Very well," he stated. "Nicholas, find us a waltz. We shall dance until the night grows weak. Tonight we celebrate my wealth and good fortune, for I have everything."

The end.