Disclaimer:  Sony, Paragon and J.P. own these characters.  Not me.
I wish I did.  They'd get a heck of a better deal from me.

The only character I do own is LaValle and he was expendable.

This story may be archived anywhere you like.  Just e-mail me at
amydrag@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca and tell me where it's going.

*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*

As Natalie exited her car, which was parked not far from the firedoor
that led to the stairs into Nick's loft, she noticed Nick outside the
apartment, bundled up in his typical 'outside before I should' outfit. 
Nick seemed far away as she approached, setting down two large full
bowls.  One contained pre-made, sealed sandwiches and the other
contained a myraid of flavoured juice boxes. 

"Worried the kiddies are going to get too much sugar tonight, Nick?"
Natalie quipped waiting to see if Nick made any comments about the
sunglasses she was wearing, "Not that I expect you get too many kids
in this neighbourhood."

Nick looked up at her and a slight smile graced his handsome face. She
never gave up.  Something Nick felt he should be grateful for. Since
they had first met Natalie had tried to get Nick to come out on
Halloween, but she had never succeeded for reasons that he'd never
explained to her.  "Where's your costume, Nat?"  Nick asked as he led
her to the lift doors.  Natalie watched as the last dying rays of the
sun touched Nick making him smoke and she fought back the urge to
smother the tiny fires with her hand. 

"Maybe, I've finally given up..." Natalie grumbled as they stood
together in the lift.  Nick's heart sank, those words caused more pain
than a stake but then her words continued, "trying to get you to come
out with me on Halloween.  Why the hell vampires should be afraid of
their night escapes me..."  Nick pulled open the doors and entered the
loft.  He turned his back on Natalie as she pulled off her jacket and
Nick moved toward the antique mantlepiece. 

"It's not -our- night, Nat." Nick's voice was soft as he lit his
fireplace.  He took a final look at the hand calligraphed invitation.

            "You are cordially invited to 
           The Raven's All Hallows Eve Ball.
                Arrive before sunset.  
            Doors will be shut and locked 
                 promptly at sundown.  
            No exit will be permitted until 
                  sunrise on the 1st.

                - L. Lacroix "

He shook his head, even LaCroix followed this law of the community. 
While Nick Knight, who was perhaps the only one who could now break
that law, never would again.  The gathering at the Raven was a
tradition now, started by Janette and continued by LaCroix in her
absence.  Nick had always been invited, but had never attended.  He
had in the past prefered to trick Natalie into spending the evening
with him alone, perhaps tonight it was time to share the truth with
her.  He turned to face her, certain that she would forgive him once
he had shared this aspect of his past, and his heart stopped... Or
would have if it beat anymore quickly than it did. 

"Who did this to you Nat...  I'll kill them!"  Nick's voice snarled.

Natalie started laughing, her eyes glittering gold from her contacts. 
She doubled over and nearly bit her own lip with the specially made
fang caps as the gleeful spasms shook her body.  "No one, Nick. 
They're fake..." Natalie popped one out of her mouth, "See!" 

"That wasn't bloody funny, Nat."  His body was trembling with anger
and the struggle to subdue his beast.

Natalie who hadn't yet looked up at Nick to see how seriously he was
taking this, sniped, "You didn't see your face when you saw me." By
the time she did look up, Nick had moved into the kitchen and was
drowning his anger in a newly uncorked bottle of cow's blood. 
Natalie's amusement faded as she realized by his body language that he
didn't find her little joke funny in the least.  One part of her mind
screamed out, 'Why the hell should you care?  He's hurt you enough
times.  Let him taste his own medicine.' Her pride didn't want to
admit she'd made a mistake, that she'd misjudged how Nick would take
this.  Natalie steeled herself, she'd come to realize that it was most
often their pride and fear that kept them from communicating.  Eight
hundred years of being closed kept Nick from building a bridge, what
the hell was stopping her.  Pig headed pride was the only answer and
she was determined to make an end of it now. 

"I'm sorry, Nick.  I didn't think."  Natalie reached out a tentative
hand to him.

Nick wanted to scream out, 'No you didn't!', but he stopped himself. 
He was more angry at himself than he was at her.  As much as he wanted
to deny it, for a moment when he thought she had been turned, a part
of him, that wasn't necessarily the vampire, had felt elation at
seeing Natalie standing there, condemned to the same darkness as him. 
Finally an attainable goal.  He wasn't sure if the anger which was
directed at her was caused by her playing such a juvenile prank or if
it was caused by the disappointment he felt when she revealed it as a
hoax.  Either way the amount of anger was uncalled for, and he turned
his once again blue eyes on her concerned face and took her hand,
"It's okay, Nat.  I overreacted." 

Natalie loved the way the rest of the world seemed to fade out of
existance when he turned those soulful pools of endless azure on her. 
All that existed was her, Nick and her pounding heart.  They stood
there lost in each other, until it became apparent that if they stayed
they would never leave.  Then the uncomfortable phaze started, the
part that Natalie hated while they both searched for anything that
would put them back on earth and away from the peace that tormented
and tantalyzed them. 

Nick was the first to break the silence, "Can I get you a drink, Nat?"

"Sure," Natalie agreed and waited to see what Nick had to offer.

"Go, sit down in front of the fireplace, relax," Nick instructed.
Natalie obeyed somewhat reluctantly then noticed the jack o' lantern
sitting in Nick's window.

"Oh, he's great, Nick.  Did you use LaCroix for a model?"  Natalie
laughed as she looked at the scowling fanged face that glared out at
Gateway Lane.

Nick shook his head at Natalie as she grinned mischeviously, "No
comment."  He held out a mug filled with something steaming. Natalie
sniffed it, and even the scent warmed her body.  She took a sip and
sighed in pleasure. 

"What's in the drink, Nick?"  Natalie relaxed, sitting down on the
floor in front of the flickering fire, and beamed at Nick as he set
down a plate filled with meat filled pastries, and delicate looking
dumplings.

"It's mulled apple wine." Nick smiled as he watched Natalie begin to
taste the various sausage rolls, dry meat pies, and vegatables wrapped
in boiled dough.  "I got the food from a small specialty store.  It's
traditional for this time of year.  If you're good, I might even let
you have desert." 

Natalie looked at Nick innocently, "When am I ever not good?" Nick's
baleful gaze told the mortal woman she wasn't fooling anyone. Natalie
quickly decided to change the subject, "So did you put the pumpkin out
to scare any specific 'evil spirits', Nick?"

"Actually Nat, they don't -scare- evil spirits.  That's a
misconception about both jack 'o lanterns and gargoyles.  What they're
actually supposed to do is say, "We're already here gang... Move on... 
find your own place to haunt."  Nick sat down on the floor opposite
Natalie. 

"Kind of a territorial thing, eh?  Well I guess the end result is the
same, and you'd be the one to know."  Natalie sipped her mulled wine
and realized that had been said badly. 

As she tried to apologize for her slip, Nick shook his head, "I know
what you meant, Nat.  No harm done."  He gazed into her eyes and
shivered, "If you want to make me feel better though, take out the
contacts."

Natalie laughed, "Sure Nick.  I forgot they were there."  She
carefully pulled the contacts out and slipped them into a small case
from her purse.  Her blue eyes twinkled as she smiled at Nick,
"Better?"

"Much," Nick replied.  Natalie's grin was infectious and soon spread
to him as well.

"So, what other things do I not know about Halloween and Jack 'O
Lanterns?"  Natalie took another sip of the mulled wine and looked at
Nick meaningfully.

Nick knew what she -was- asking, but wasn't quite ready for that kind
of honesty yet.  Instead his grin grew larger as he said, "Actually if
I wanted to be historically acurate I would have carved a turnip."

"A -turnip-?  Nick, you've got to be kidding me..."  Natalie looked
incredulous.

"No, I'm not.  Pumpkins are a new world food, we didn't have them.
Turnips were what the Jack 'O Lantern started out as.  And you think
pumpkin innerds taste bad."  Nick grinned mischeveously as memories of
the time Natalie had to eat both his slice and her slice of the
pumpkin pie Captain Cohen had made slid into his mind.

Natalie scowled, "I don't like pumpkin and Amanda may have been a
great chief, but she was no Myra when it came to pastry."

"Myra still sending you goodies is she," Nick asked conversationally.
He could see it a bit in her figure, but he'd never tell Nat.  Besides
he -liked- it.

Natalie's eyebrow arched, "Sometimes.  I suggested that she donate
some of them to the charity auction the precinct supports.  I guess
now we know why Don..."  Natalie looked self-consciously at her own
waist.

"Nah, that was all the souvlaki..."  Nick's eyes glittered and his
nose wrinkled as he spoke, grinning all the while.  Then he took a sip
from his glass.  Natalie's expression softened and she sipped from
hers.

"So what was with the real food outside the door?"  Natalie asked, her
voice barely above a whisper.

"Feeding the dead," Nick answered, his voice quieter still.

Their eyes met and neither looked away.  Silence filled the room and
seemed to echo off the huge grey walls.  This time Natalie broke it,
"Nick, why don't you go out on Halloween?"

Nick didn't have to ask whether she seriously wanted to know or not,
he could read it in her face.  "All Hallows Eve is the night when all
the dead of the year move on to whatever lies beyond for them. No
murderer would be caught dead..." Nick shook his head at the bad pun,
"Or maybe I should say 'will be caught alive' if they are out on All
Hallows Eve." 

Natalie looked fascinated, "Why?"

"All of a murderer's victims from the year, walk tonight as well...
But they seek revenge.  They will kill him if they find him." Nick's
gaze grew far away.

"Okay Nick, even if I -do- believe what your telling me, which being a
scientist I have a hard time doing.  It doesn't apply to you." Natalie
paused a moment and gave Nick a hard look, "Unless, of course, there's
something you want to tell me."

Nick looked at her uncomprehending, "You're right.  It doesn't apply
to me anymore.  But knowing that will never take away a lesson I
learned the hard way.  Even if I become mortal, I don't know if I'll
ever be able to go out after sunset on All Hallows Eve."

"Want to tell me about it, Nick?"  Natalie asked, not expecting an
answer really, but she knew she had to make the offer.

"Actually, yes," Nick grinned at the look of shock that crossed Nat's
face, "If you're sure you want to hear."

"I'm sure."  Natalie answered quickly.  Nick looked at her a little
dubiously and she retorted, "What.. This story is not for the faint of
heart," Natalie did a bad Vincent Price from 'Hilarious House Of
Frightenstein', "Don't sell me short, Nick!"  

Nick knew she wouldn't speak to him again, if he didn't tell her. So
he nodded, "I'll get us both another drink before we start."  Nick
retrieved her glass and brought both glasses back full.  As well he
brought a round ball of clay.

"What's that?"  Natalie asked momentarily distracted.

"Clay baked honey apple with raisins," Nick smiled, "Your desert... 
All you have to do is put it in the fireplace."  Natalie smiled
sweetly and retrieved the treat from Nick.  With some care and a pair
of tongs she placed it in the heart of the flickering fire, when she
turned Nick was standing behind her with a large down comforter. 
"Might as well be comfortable, it's a long story." 

"And with you, what isn't," Natalie quipped as she snuggled beneath
the comforter, facing Nick, who smiled gamely and took a sip of his
drink before beginning.

"Back when I was brought across, one of the rules LaCroix practically
pounded into me was to never go out on All Hallow's Eve. However
typical of LaCroix, he was long on rules, short on explanation of why.
Janette was no help either.  All she would say is to obey my master,
and then shiver as though it was a subject she'd rather not go into.
As I grew in my powers, I became arrogant.  I didn't care to listen to
LaCroix, I -knew- what the best was for me.  And so when a vampire, I
had chosen as a confidant seemed to think it stupid for a vampire to
be afraid of the night of the dead, I immediately echoed his
opinion....." 

*@*         *@*           *@*           *@*          *@*

"Nicholas", LaCroix hissed, "I do not care -what- you think... Or what
the upstart LaValle thinks.  Tonight we stay indoors, and if your
belly rumbles, then you should have fed better last night."

"I do not care for your rules, -master-.  I do not care for this
dance.  This is -our- night, LaCroix.  The night of the dead.  What
have we to fear from the ghosts and goblins which the mortals do? 
Nothing. You have said it before, shall I remind you of your own
words.  We are immortal... Perfect.  We need not fear as mortals do."
Nicholas' words dripped from his tongue like poisoned honey. LaCroix
growled menacingly and suddenly Nicholas was slammed against the wall
of their house as LaCroix held him by the throat. 

"Mark well what I say if you survive this night, Nicholas.  Never use
my words against me again.  And know this night is -not- ours." 
LaCroix then carried Nicholas to the door and flung him far into the
clutches of the encroaching darkness.  The door was quickly slammed
and Nick could hear the bolts clicking shut and Janette's scream of
terror which was suddenly cut short. 

Suddenly, a smiling face greeted his, "Your family makes me glad I am
an orphan."  LaValle grinned mischeveously, his dark eyes twinkling as
he offered Nicholas a hand up.

"If he's hurt her," Nicholas growled menacingly and moved as though to
attack the door.

LaValle held Nicholas back and directed him towards the hitching post
where two fine steeds were tied.  "Don't be a fool.  Your woman has
been convinced of the old myths and fairy tales about this night.  She
was probably wailing to have the elder let you back in. LaCroix can be
accused of many things, but Janette has always been treated with kid
gloves.  You needant fear for her."  Nicholas stood silent and angry
facing his master's house not responding to his friend.  LaValle
retrieved both of the horses from the post, "There is an inn of ill
repute I wish to visit tonight, Nicholas.  Either mount up, or hide in
the barn.  Either way I am gone."  LaValle swung onto the dapple grey
stallion who's nostrals flared as he blew in excitement.  Then with a
thunder of hooves, LaValle was gone down the road.  In a moment,
Nicholas had shrugged off his mood, intending to take his anger out on
the first mortal lout that darkened his table and in the blink of an
eye mounted the black charger, leaving only a cloud of dust to mark
the place where he had been. 

The horse's hooves thundered down the dirt road, as the vampires
jockeyed for position.  Nicholas forced laughter from his throat to
answer LaValle's.  To Nicholas the race down the road was no longer a
game, but a desperate attempt to escape into a place of mortals, a
place of safety and superiority.  This night gave Nicholas chills up
his spine, something he had not felt since his days as a mortal. The
silence was oppressive, more so to his keen senses.  There were no
insects, no birds, no frogs, toads or lizards to make the music that
the night air normally thrummed with.  The air was uncommonly cold,
chill even to the chill skin of his own body.  More over it was thick,
thick with the miasma of a grave opened to soon after a body was
intered.  Nicholas ooked to his friend to see if any of oddities of
the enviroment were having an effect, but if it was then LaValle
showed no outward sign.  Nicholas turned his attention back to the
thundering rythym of his horse's gait, and tryed to block the
discomfiture he felt by transforming in his mind the rythmic hoof
beats to the heart beat of a wench before he took her.  However no
matter what the son of LaCroix tried, the eerie sensations continued
to assualt him. 

The trees, which had long since shed their leaves, seemed to grasp at
him with skeletal hands and tightened the path which he travelled
down.  In the darkness, he could feel eyes watching him but not mortal
eyes, animal or human, or even the eyes of his own kind, staring out
in rivalry.  Instead he felt as though there were thousands of eyes,
all burning at him with hatred, screaming for revenge.  Then the
silence was broken with whispering, thousands of angry voices
whispering, laughing, taunting him.  Taunting -him-. He who was a
master of the night.  Nicholas pulled his mount to a hault violently,
causing the beast to rear in pain and panic.  It's eyes rolling and
froth pushing from its mouth past the bit.  "BEGONE," Nicholas
screamed, "I abjure thee... I am the master of the night. Cease your
moaning.  I will not tolerate this!" 


*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*@*

LaValle trotted back, an amused grin on his face.  "Did LaCroix's
'lesson' addle your wits?  Who are you screaming at Nicholas?"

"Can you not hear the incesant whispering?"  Nicholas turned
incredulous eyes on LaValle.

"The wind in the trees... Come now, Nicholas, I think LaCroix's fairy
tales have made more of an impression on you than you believe. Either
that or it is some madness you brought with you from mortality.  Your
horse suffers for it." LaValle rode closer to his friend and steadied
the horse with a hand on it's flank. "They barely suffer us to ride. 
You cannot excite them so.  The inn is only a mile more, then we'll
find you a lusty wench to disperse this mania that seems to have
possessed you, Nicholas." 

The whispering ceased, or perhaps Nicholas only willed it to become
the wind whispering in the trees, but his general feeling of ill
boding did not fall away from him.  Then suddenly they were upon the
inn, nearer than Nicholas remembered, but there were signs of mortal
life within.  Sounds, smells, and movement which Nicholas welcomed
heartily and not only for the opportunity it brought him to feed. 

The two figures entered the tavern, and they claimed a table near to
the fireplace.  A buxom serving wench came to the table, "What will
you two fine gentlemen be needing this night?"

"Wine," LaValle invited, "and you..."

"The wine, gladly..." The girl smiled, "And we'll see if you need me
still when the night's done."

Nicholas shivered as he looked at the girl, there was something about
her that was all to familiar, and there was something in her eyes that
brought to mind the feelings he had outside, when the thousands of
eyes pierced the night to find him.  Nicholas looked around the
tavern, the cloak of unease settling over him like a blanket of cold,
wet snow.  Every face inside the place seemed familiar, as familiar as
his own family but he couldn't place why or how.  Every furrowed brow,
every dull farmer's gaze resonated within him and pulled at his
memory.  "LaValle, do these -people- seem to be familiar to you?" 

LaValle was encompassed in whispering something obscene into the
serving girl's ear as his friend asked but the girl swatted the
vampire playfully and pulled away.  "That one likes me, I think." 
LaValle made as though to swig the wine from his cup, then turned to
Nicholas, "No more than any other room full of dun brown peasants do,
my worrisome friend.  Find yourself a wench, and set yourself at ease. 
I am to pursue that one -- there, I think."  LaValle roused himself
and set after the serving wench who was standing by the bar. 

Nicholas sat staring into the flames, full of foreboding and angry at
himself for not living up to his grand boasts to LaCroix.  Never
willing to allow his master the last laugh, Nicholas pulled himself to
his feet and moved to a pretty girl who stood near to the fireplace. 
"Such a beautiful flower amoungst the brambles is too tempting a
prize," his silken voice purred into the girl's ear. 

"Think you, sir?"  The girl's voice seemed familiar somehow but
Nicholas cast such thoughts from his mind.

"I do indeed," Nicholas answered as the girl turned doe-like brown
eyes on him.  He ran his hand along her cheek and down her throat,
gently caressing the silken skin.  Again he was troubled, her skin was
much too warm.  To him it felt as hot as the fires of hell itself,
more so than the sickest victim of any plague he had taken. He once
again forced back his unease, and focused on the girl.  'At least this
one has not much time left in the world', Nicholas thought, 'Not that
it would have stopped me from taking her if she had.' His victim
arched her neck and purred at Nicholas' touch. He nuzzled her close,
then ran his tongue sensually along her cheek, down her jaw and
towards her neck.  A thin silken choker impeded his progress down her
throat, and his hand flicked up to release it.  It fluttered to the
floor, like an autumn leaf from the tree as his tongue continued it's
caress and touched upon two small punctures in the girl's throat. 

Nicholas stopped, and pulled back to inspect the wound.  Two small
holes, as though she had already been bitten.  He looked from the
wound, to her face and back to the wound again.  Then it struck him
that although the wound looked fresh, that he tasted and smelt no
blood from her.  He stepped back, fear marring his handsome
countenance.  She turned to stare at him, her doe brown eyes
flickering with the flames of hell.  "Is there something amiss, Master
Nicholas?"  A malevolent grin crossed her face as Nicholas recoiled. 
This was the same girl he had killed no less than a fortnight ago. 

Her eyes were fixated on Nicholas as he retreated from her, towards
the bar where LaValle stood.  "We must leave LaValle..." Nicholas'
voice was hoarse with desperation.  As LaCroix's son looked around him
he began to recognize other faces and flickers of long forgotten
memories rose to the surface, like things long dead in a lake.

"Nicholas, go back to your wench..." LaValle laughed heartily and
continued to molest the serving girl.  

All the eyes in the bar were focused on Nicholas, boring into him like
a carpenter's drill.  Then the whispering started again, and the girl
at the fireplace started to laugh mockingly.  "We must go, don't you
recognize them?"  Nicholas gestured madly at the patrons of the
tavern.  Seeing LaValle was not going to leave of his own accord,
Nicholas tried to pull him along behind but the other vampire seemed
rooted to his place.  When his friend would not budge, Nicholas ran
from the building on his own.

LaValle watched his friend's fleeting back in astonishment.  He sat
for a moment debating whether to follow, or to stay and finish what he
had started.  He looked into the girl's glittering blue eyes, then
sighed.  If Nicholas did something stupid, then Enforcers would come,
and they would both be forfeit for going out on this night. Better
eternity than a warm body and a full belly.  "Insanity runs in his
family," LaValle said conversationally in way of an explanation and
followed Nick out at a leasurely pace, not noticing the way all eyes
in the tavern followed.  Nicholas was outside readying his horse.  The
speed at which he moved was incredible but still mortal.  "If you are
so afraid, Nicholas, then fly back to your master and your wench." 

Nicholas looked at LaValle his blue eyes wild with terror.  "I have
tried LaValle," Nicholas answered as he swung into the saddle, his
horse prancing nervously as he did.  "We should have listened to the
elders."

"What are you talking about, Nicholas?"  LaValle focused his mind and
tried to fly, but his feet remained rooted to the ground.  "What
sorcery..."  He looked to Nicholas whose eyes were fixated on the
tavern.  LaValle followed his friend's gaze only to find that the inn
which they had been inside was no more, and only an old run down barn
stood in it's place.  He grabbed at his horse, and mounted quickly. 
The animal's eyes were rolling wildly and their coats were lathered. 
"Who?" 

Nicholas didn't answer, instead he turned his steed hard and spurred
it away down the path towards his master's house.  LaValle followed
suit.  As they rode, the sounds of whispering and laughter echoed all
around them and a thick fog, too thick even for their vampire senses
to pierce, rolled in and covered landmarks and misguided their horse's
wild route.  Pin pricks of red light burned through the mist, and in
turn burned their hateful stare into the two fleeing vampires.  Again
it seemed as though the trees were grabbing at them, trying to pull
them down from their horses as they crashed through the wood but when
they looked, it was hands -- pale, human hands that grabbed and tore. 
Clawing at the retreating creatures of the night.

LaValle pulled his horse along side Nicholas'.  "Who... I demand to
know who?"

"Our victims, you fool," Nicholas sneered at that moment looking far
to much like his master, "We are being hunted by those -we- hunted."
Nicholas' eyes were wild and they seemed to look everywhere at once,
ever searching for an escape.

LaValle seemed shocked at this revelation at first, and continued to
spur his horse onward.  Then as they rode into a clearing of the fog,
LaValle whirled his horse around and brought it to a stop in the
center of the path.  "Ghosts, ghosts of weaklings I have already
killed are what we are running from...  I will run no farther,
Nicholas.  We have nothing to fear." 

Nicholas pulled his horse to a stop and looked on in disbelief as the
fog began to roll towards LaValle, as he stood laughing, mocking
Nicholas for his fear.  The son of LaCroix could -see- the hands of
the victims reaching for LaValle.  "Run, you fool...  RUN", Nicholas
cried in terror.  The fog also began to encroach around Nicholas and
his horse.  Nicholas continued to back his horse away, still calling
for his friend to run, moving deeper into the clear area in the midst
of the fog.  He could only look on in horror as the fog surrounded
LaValle becoming clawing, tearing human hands.  Figures formed of the
swirling mists became recognizable as they ringed LaValle, pulling him
from his horse.  LaValle's boastful cries, turned to angry growls and
then changed again to pleading desperate moans for help from the other
vampire.  LaValle attacked the creatures surrounding him, but where
ever his fangs or hands touched became mist again.  Though mist when
attacked, the vengeful ghosts of LaValle's victims were more solid
when attacking.  Soon LaValle's clothes were shreds and his body had
more cuts, bites, and wrents in it than the vampire could heal
quickly. 

So entranced was Nicholas by the horror before him that he barely
noticed in time the fog that moved to envelope him.  Hands pulled him
from his horse, and he fell to the ground with a bone wrenching thud. 
The son of LaCroix had withstood tortures in the pit of the heathen
Saracen and had survived, so was not about to give up easily or
quickly to those he had taken.  His eyes became golden as he growled
and backed further into the clear area behind him.  The mist seemed to
hesitate to come further, and with a great bounding leap Nicholas
threw himself into the midst of the clear area and began to scream in
pain.  His vision was blurred, but now he knew why the vengeful
spirits would come no farther.  Holy ground, he could see the church
and one of it's walls further behind him.  He writhed in agony,
knowing that while he was on the ground he may not enjoy his stay, but
that he would also not be killed.  Bloody tears rolled down his face
and over his chin as he roared to LaValle, "Break free, run towards my
voice.  Hurry LaValle." 

Nicholas watched as his friend broke free of the white tendrils, that
seemed to form and reform as different humans before his very eyes,
and ran towards his voice.  LaValle's body was wrent and torn, a hand
was missing and an eye had been plucked from it's socket. His hair was
saturated with gobs of blood and sections of scalp were gone. Huge
pieces of flesh were missing from his arms, thighs and buttocks. 
Nicholas gagged on bile that was not there as his stomach lurched from
the sight.  LaValle ran towards his friend's voice, but was stopped as
though he ran into a brick wall.  "Why do you stop? It is only holy
ground... It did not stop me!  Come to me, LaValle!" 

"I can not pass", LaValle reached out pleadingly towards Nicholas. As
the son of LaCroix reached out towards his friend, his body was shaken
with seizures, and he began to vomit blood.  He could only lay
helpless and watch as his friend was torn limb for limb, by the fog
created creatures with the burning hateful eyes.  Finally LaValle's
head was torn from the body, and thrown into the church yard where it
landed in front of Nicholas' face.  It's once laughing eyes and merry
mouth, now only a death mask. 

*@*         *@*          *@*           *@*           *@*

"I fell unconcious then.  When I woke it was nearly dawn.  The fog
still blocked my way and I needed to find shelter.  The holy ground
was killing me but I had no other choice.  There was a caved in
section near one of the walls, so I crammed my body in and waited for
the dawn.  When it came, the spirits too were gone."  Nick took a
drink from his glass, which emptied it and the bottle was already
empty.  He got up and moved to the kitchen to retrieve another bottle. 

Natalie sat entranced and frozen in terror by the story.  Nick had
seen her trembling, and had heard her heart race but he had never once
moved to comfort her.  He wanted her to know the truth and see how she
would deal with it.  She had been badly frightened. 'Frightened enough
to never want to be one of us', Nick's brain supplied.  A part of him
rejoiced at that, but another part grieved and over-all Nick felt
guilty.  He pulled another bottle, one that LaCroix had given him from
the fridge.  He needed it now, and what better way to drown his guilt
and sorrow, but in something that he would pay for later.  He heard
Natalie moving in the living room and turned to her. 

"You did it again, didn't you?"  Natalie glared at him, "It was just a
story.. Wasn't it?"  Nick looked at Natalie incredulously.

"You mean you -don't- believe me?" Nick said.  He started to protest
that he wasn't lying but something inside him stopped himself, and he
was almost glad she didn't believe.  He rationalized that if she
couldn't handle that the story was the truth, then perhaps it was
better if she thought he had tricked her once again.  Better for her,
better for him, better for them, better for the future -- whatever
that held. 

"I'm not an idiot, Nick... You said it yourself.  The holy ground was
killing you.  You would never have survived the day on consecrated
ground.  I mean -now- you can barely do it, never mind then."  Natalie
was fuming with her hands on her hips.  "Besides I find it hard to
believe that mist could rip the head off of a vampire."  She shook her
head, "You really got me, Knight." Nick winced, when Natalie used his
last name it meant she was -really- mad at him.  She walked up to him,
"Almost dawn." She picked up the remote and handed it to him.  They
both looked out the window and saw the sun beginning to peak out over
the horizon.  Then she kissed him on the cheek and walked to the
elevator, "I hope you know... I -am- going to get you for this."  She
pulled the door shut and the rumbling motor of the elevator signalled
her exit for the day. 

Nick shook his head, and walked over to the fireplace.  What had
possessed him to leave out the fact that he had braved the dawn's
light long enough to take shelter in one of the church's out
buildings, off the holy ground.  Again his mind rationalized that it
wouldn't have made as good an ending, but inside he knew differently. 
He pulled one of the gothic heads, and a secret door swung open.  He
reached in and pulled out a small piece of finishing stone.  His hand
smoked slightly as he touched it. 

           "And we will dwell in the house of our lord
                - In the year of our lord, 1348"

-- was carved into it's surface.  Proof, but not any that Natalie
would accept.  He smiled a bit and slipped the stone back into the
compartment.  Then he turned to watch the sun rise, and fill his loft
with it's golden rays.  He -needed- to know that the sun had risen. 
He filled his glass from the bottle he had retrieved and looked out
into the day.  "To you, LaValle," Nick intoned, and raised his glass
in salute, then draining it.  And he pressed the button to bring down
the shutters and block out the sun. 

Finis. 

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page