Hello, dear friends!  Here is a short story, a romance, for
those who are not die-hard N&Npackers of either the dark or
light variety.  Spoilers include all of third season,
particularly Hearts of Darkness, Night in Question, and
Ashes to Ashes.  Completely spoils Last Knight which could
not have happened anyway.

Forever Knight and all of its denizens are the property of
Tri-Star and Sony, and are not mine.  I am merely borrowing
them for a little fun.  
  
Permission granted to archive at Mel's site, and the FTP
site.  All others please inquire.  



The Last Dance  01/06
By Lorelei Sieja


Tracy glanced up from her paperwork.  There it was again! 
He was smiling.  She grinned, wondering if something had
happened recently in his "secret" relationship with the
medical examiner.  Nick had been so moody and distracted
these past weeks, that she was beginning to worry about her
own safety on the job with him, but suddenly, he was a
different man.  

Nick added his signature to the report with a broad flourish
then added it to the growing stack of completed work.  Tracy
blushed as Nick caught her staring at him.  "What?" he
asked.  Then, glancing down at his shirtfront, "Did I spill
something on me?"

"No," Tracy said, grinning nervously.  "I've just never seen
you like this."

He stared at her for a moment, then just shrugged.  He even
whistled tunelessly as he pulled yet another report from the
endless pile and began to tackle the empty spaces with a
fervor that was commendable, given his penchant for
procrastinating.  Tracy folded her hands under her chin and
examined him, still unwilling to let it go.  

"Are you sure you're all right?  I mean, you did just bury
your grandmother.  You did, really, didn't you?  You
wouldn't have just said that, to spend a little more time
with the coroner?"

Nick put down his pen.  Leaning back in his chair, he gave
Tracy his full, undivided attention for perhaps the first
time in months.  "Tracy, I've told you before, Natalie and I
are just friends."

He was good, she decided.  He certainly sounded convincing.

"I didn't know my grandmother.  I'd only met her right
before her death, and she wasn't herself.  She was--
violent.  Suffering.  Her death, was a... a blessing, for
everyone."  Nick lowered his eyes, a look of pain marring
the handsome features. 

"I'm sorry, Nick," Tracy murmured.  

He shrugged off her sympathy, almost like the Nick she was
used to.  "I told you, I didn't really know her.  But, her
death affected my father greatly.  I guess, I'm still a
little worried about him."

Nick had a father?  No one had known he'd even had a
grandmother, until he took two days off from work recently,
ostensibly to attend the funeral, although no one from the
precinct had been invited.  Tracy had learned more about
Nick's private life in the past ten minutes than she'd
learned in almost a year as his partner.  "We all handle
grief differently," she said, more to keep the conversation
rolling as long as Nick was willing to share, than because
she really knew what she was talking about.  "I think it's
really important to talk about it though.  Some people just
clam up and try to go on, ignoring the memories of the
deceased, and I don't think that's healthy.  Can you get
your dad to tell you about her, since you don't seem to have
known her?  It might help him." 

Nick raked his fingers through the unruly hair that had a
tendency to curl, not managing to do much to straighten it. 
"You don't know him," he said.  "He's not what you would
call a "sharer".  And I have never called him "dad"."

"What do you call him?"

Then she saw the familiar invisible shield dropping, as Nick
shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  He picked up the pen,
dropping it again, fidgeting boyishly.  "Master, father,
sir... never dad," he whispered.  Then he pushed back from
his desk and stood.  She watched him head into the locker
room.  

Tracy sighed.  Well, if Nick had opened up once, maybe he

would do it again.  Maybe, she would begin to know and
understand her mysterious partner.  "Master?" she thought to
herself.  Was his dad really that old-fashioned?  The term
implied power and dominance.  Nick could be pretty
intimidating himself.  If his father could instill fear in
him, now a grown man, she certainly would not want to meet
Mr. Knight Sr.  But maybe this new knowledge helped to
explain some of Nick's peculiarities.  She felt a strange
sense of connection with him.  They shared something else
now, besides hair and eye color and a job.  Her dad could
compete for the Demanding Parents of the Year award himself.


Nick tore open his locker.  He reached into the deep pocket
of his coat for the small emergency flask.  With a quick
look around the empty locker room, he swigged the warm
elixir, drowning his passion and his confusion.  

Tracy hadn't meant anything, he was sure.  She couldn't
possibly know his complex relationship with LaCroix, which
had become even more so recently.  His life here are as a
vampire homicide cop in Toronto was becoming curiouser and
curiouser.  

LaCroix was becoming nicer, Natalie was meaner.  Janette was
gone, Urs was back...  Nick no longer knew what he wanted or
needed, only that he did both want and need something.  Or
some one.  He drank again, deeply, concentrating on the
pleasant sensations as the thick liquid coated his throat.  

A light wind blew in, followed by a soft click as the locker
room door was bolted shut.  Nick whirled around to face the
one he called master.  He tried to summon up the old
feelings anger and indignation.  He had always resented
LaCroix's intrusion into his private, "mortal" lives
before.  But he couldn't do it.  The being before him now
looked much the same as always.  He was dressed in black,
his arms at his side, his straight back and broad shoulders
giving the aura of power and control.  But Nick had seen him
weep for the death of his child, his mother, his master...
the demon spawn named "Divia".  
"What do you want?" Nick asked coolly.

"Only to see you, Nicholas," the ancient said, his silken
voice almost a caress.  
Nick didn't speak.  Lost in thought, he corked the flask and
returned it to his coat pocket.  He closed the locker and
leaned on it, his eyes downcast.

"I sensed you were troubled," LaCroix continued.  "Forgive
me for intruding, if my presence is not wanted."

Nick looked up in surprise.  He had never heard LaCroix
apologize before!  Not say it and mean it.  LaCroix turned
as if to leave, and impulsively, Nick spoke out to stop him.
"No!  Please, don't."

LaCroix remained, close but not touching.  Nick looked into
the familiar ice blue eyes-- sometimes intimidating,
sometimes scornful, but today, the eyes merely reflected his
concern.  He rushed at his master and wrapped his arms
around him in a firm embrace.
LaCroix took a sudden step backward to regain his balance. 
He put his hands on Nick's shoulders, intending to tear his
protege loose from the tender touch, but he hesitated. 
Hadn't he come here to comfort his son?  He had sensed a
sudden, overwhelming confusion through their link, and had
come to identify its source.  It would seem that since
Divia's death, he had felt even more possessive of his
favorite child.  The strength of these emotions was almost
frightening.  If he should ever lose this one, would he want
to continue his existence?  Nicholas was his only weakness. 
It could be a dangerous, untenable position, yet the younger
one had absolutely no idea how much power he wielded over
his master.  The ancient placed his arms around him and
returned the embrace.
"I never thanked you," Nick whispered hoarsely.

LaCroix swallowed past a constricting discomfort in his
throat. 

"For Urs.  For helping me.  For so many things," Nick
continued.

"You came back for me," LaCroix reminded him.  "If not for
you, Divia would have succeeded and I would be dead."  

Nicholas's embrace tightened.  There was much they should
discuss, LaCroix realized, but not here.  He touched the
golden hair for a brief moment, savoring its silken texture,
and leaned forward, breathing in deeply the scent that was
so uniquely Nicholas.  He brushed at two red tears that
stained his son's pale face, bringing them to his lips and
savoring the intensity of his passion contained in the
minute offering.  Then he straightened, regaining his
composure.  "Come to me tonight, my son?  When you finish
here?"

Nick pulled back, momentarily resisting his master.  But the
words had been asked, not demanded.  He thought about work,
and his usual routine.  He could follow Nat home, or she
might stop by the loft for a while.  They might watch a
video, chat over their work, or maybe take a walk by the
lake before sunrise.  But Nat was different lately.  And
Nick discovered he really didn't want to see her.  At least,
not until he figured some things out.  Still, a lonely day
alone in his loft was not appealing either.  If Janette was
still here, he could seek her out, but... Nick thought about
his new feelings for another vampire, and knew he could not
share them with Janette.  

He stared at his master's controled features, seeing no
anger and no stipulations.  "Thank you," he said simply.  "I
will."

LaCroix gave no outward sign of his pleasure, yet Nick felt
something through the bond they shared.  For a moment, he
felt LaCroix's surprise.  Then the ancient vampire left as
suddenly as he had come.  Nick stared at the empty spot his
master had left in his wake.  Was this a mistake?  Would he
be sorry tomorrow, if he renewed old ties?  Maybe...  but
Nick needed to talk to some one.  And LaCroix was
available.  


End, part 1/6


The Last Dance, 02/06
By Lorelei Sieja


"Knight, Vetter!"

The two detectives jumped at that tone in their captain's
voice, the tone that said, "you've got a case, and it's a
nasty one."  Tracy locked eyes with Nick, wondering if he
was up to it yet.  He'd been so weird since his grandma
died.

Nick saw the uncertainty on Tracy's face.  She was still so
young, he thought.  She had earned the right to be here- it
wasn't just given to her, because someone feared her father,
the police commissioner, or owed him any favors.  Nick had
faith in her ability.  But still, she was young and she was
a woman.  "You can do this," he reassured her.

He held the door opened for her, then followed her inside
the captain's office.  Closing it, he leaned against the
firm surface for a moment.  Reese was shuffling junk on his
desk, a nervous habit that told Nick more than words just
how awful this case was going to be.

"Call just came in," Reese muttered.  "Medical Examiner's on
her way there now.  This one's a baby, guys.  Little girl...
not yet six years old."  His voice broke then, and the tough
cop sank into his chair, burying his face behind large hands
that trembled slightly.

Neither Nick nor Tracy spoke.  They waited, knowing the
captain would have something more to say, and watched
respectfully for a sign that he was ready.

"The parents found her body.  The father dialed 911, but, it
was too late.  Here's the address."

Tracy accepted the form with the information.  When Reese
looked at them, his eyes were tear-filled and threatening to
spill over.  "Get this bastard!  Get him tonight!  Half the
precinct has kids!  No one should have to go through what
those parents are facing tonight!"

Tracy and Nick nodded almost at the same time.  "We will,
Captain," they said together.

Reese smiled somewhat.  Finally, they were getting in sinc
with each other, and they didn't even seem to notice it.
They were both great individually.  Together, they were
probably the best detectives on the force.

Nick opened the door, following Tracy through it.  He
wondered at the strange sense of excitement that coursed
through him.  The crime sounded terrible... and it was
always worse when the victim was a child.  Surely he wasn't
reveling in the bloodshed and the violence?  He shuddered,
wondering just how low he could stoop.  But then he knew
what it was.  He was once again a hunter, in search of
worthy prey.  And this scum deserved to die!  He quivered,
striving to keep the excitement from his face.  Tracy would
never understand.


"Why do you always drive," Tracy complained, as Nick slid
behind the wheel of his caddy.

"That's how our partnership works," he said, grinning
boyishly.  "I drive.  You fill out the paper work.  Haven't
you figured that out by now?"

Tracy slammed her door shut and punched his shoulder.  "You
are really bad, you know that?"

Nick paled visibly, giving her a wounded look.

"Oh cut that out, it was a joke!  You have no sense of
humor," Tracy said with exasperation.  "You are the most
noble, old-fashioned, polite, honorable, pig-headed cop on
the force.  How could you possibly think you were bad!"

"What else does it say about this case," Nick said, changing
the subject.

She read off the scant details.  The parents had been out
for a walk.  The children had been at home alone, with the
nineteen-year-old in charge.  When they returned, their
youngest child was missing.  After a short search, they
found her body in the alley behind the garage.

"They claim they were walking.  It's not much of an alibi,"
Nick commented.

Tracy gasped.  "Do they need one?  Nick, you can't possibly
think that they would do this to their own child?  Their own
little girl!"

He shrugged.  "We don't know the particulars yet, Trace.
But, it happens."


The lights of the squad cars flashed, illuminating the
Benson's house with an eerie glow.  Yellow tape tried to
keep the neighborhood cop wannabes from interfering, but
several uniforms were having to steer the bystanders away,
as well.

Nick saw Natalie get out of her car and head towards the
back alley where most of the congestion was.  Above the
sounds of the cars, the police, the radios, above all the
confusion, could be heard the wailing of a distraught
mother.  Tracy inhaled and held her breath.  Together, they
approached the crime scene.

Mrs. Benson hugged the small, limp form to her chest and
rocked it.  Her screams rent the air, bringing tears to even
the most hardened on the force.  Nick stared.  The mother's
tears were genuine, she was nearly hysterical.  The child's
blood was on her clothing.  Hugging her dead child to her
breast had corrupted the scene, possibly destroying crucial
information.  Still, her pulse was erratic.  Nick didn't
think she was covering anything up.

Natalie tried to get her to release the child, but the woman
screamed at her.  "She's my baby!  Some one please help me!
You have to save my baby!"

Nick knelt down next to her.  His senses were instantly
assaulted with the sweet, heady aroma of the child's blood.
She hadn't been dead for very long.  Trying not to inhale,
he forced his instinctual hunger to withdraw.  He touched
the woman's cheek with a gentle caress and caught her in a
hypnotic suggestion.

"We are here to help you," he whispered soothingly.
"Release the child.  We will do all that we can."

The mother obeyed, tenderly laying her little daughter back
on the gravel lane.  Then with Nick's reassuring hand on her
arm, she stood and followed him away from the alley.  Nick
knew there was nothing he could really do for her to ease
her pain, except maybe see the killer brought to justice.
However, she had other children to care for.  She would have
to get control of herself, deal with her grief, and move
on.

"You will talk with this officer," Nick murmured, continuing
the suggestion as long as he still had her in his control.
"After you have answered all of his questions, you will be
tired.  You will sleep.  And when you are ready, you will
seek counseling to deal with this tragedy."

The mother responded, meekly obeying his commands.  Mr.
Benson was giving his statement separately, to another
officer across the front lawn.  Nick returned to the alley.

Natalie avoided looking at him.  She spoke gruffly,
angrily.  Nick suspected she was reliving the nightmare from
when her own goddaughter had been the victim.

"Evidence of sexual assault, and the bruising around the
neck would indicate she was strangled.  TOD is fairly
recent, within the last hour."

"You mean, the murderer could still be here," Tracy gasped.

No one answered, but the others all glanced around them
nervously, as if the evil perpetrator might flash a
billboard announcing his presence as well as his guilt.

"This has got to be so hard for her," some one was saying.
"She just lost a child two years ago.  How much pain can one
woman face?"
Nick zeroed in on the speaker.  He looked familiar.  It took
only a moment before Nick identified him as a TV reporter.
Nick glared at him in disgust.  This wasn't news!  This
should never appear in the papers, glorifying the criminal
and advertising the parents' pain across the world!  This
kind of crime should be recorded only in police records, and
remain concealed from the innocents of the world.  He
approached the reporter, fully intending to get rid of him.

The man was wiping his eyes, though, and the camera remained
in its case.  He was not here as part of his job.  He was
just a concerned neighbor.

"What do you know about them," Nick demanded.

The man extended a trembling hand and introduced himself.
"I'm Jeff Corbin; I live just over there."  He indicated the
closest house to the alley.  "I didn't see or hear a thing!
I can't believe this has happened."

"What about their other child?"

Corbin blew his nose, but ignored the tears streaming down
his face.  "They're such good people!  I've known them for
going on ten years.  I was at Mary Grace's baptism, for
Christ's sake.  I just can't believe it."

Nick didn't want to have to hypnotize him too, to get the
information he wanted.  Using his special abilities made him
hungry, and the child's blood was already taunting him.
This guy had better get to the point quickly.  He stated his
question again, firmly.

"Her daughter Emily was hit by a school bus.  Just a freak
accident.  Not like this..."  Corbin lost it then.  An
officer led him away.

It was strange, though.  Two dead children in the same
family.  One, an apparent accident, the other a violent
crime.  Was it just coincidence?  "Take both the parents
downtown for questioning," he told another uniform.

"Nick, I hope you're wrong," Tracy murmured.

Natalie continued speaking, but Nick only half heard what
she had to say.  This was probably not the site of the
crime, she suggested.  There was no semen on the pavement,
and no bruising on her bare skin that the rough gravel would
have caused.  Her arms were bloody, though.  The shallow
wounds were caused with a sharp instrument, possibly a jack
knife.  They were not the cause of death, only a sign of the
torture she had endured in her final moments.

The warm blood called out to Nick again with its seductive
siren's song.  The vampire fought for release.  With great
restraint, Nick pushed it down.

"There is so little to go on, Nick.  I'm sorry, I can't give
you more.  God, I hope you get this guy!"

Nick knelt beside the tiny body.  Warm blood would still
divulge its secrets.  In every taste of fresh, human blood,
flowed images of the life, the dreams, and the desires of
the mortal's existence.  It was almost intoxicating, and it
was the most difficult part to give up when Nick had
switched to drinking only bovine blood.  Now, the identity
of this child's killer was probably revealed in the blood.
As it cooled, so too the images.  Locked in Mary Grace's
blood would be the vivid memories of her last moments,
perhaps their only chance to identify the killer.

Natalie stood and turned away from the body.  Nick touched
the child's bloodied arms.  The sticky fluid coated his
fingertips.  Stealing a cautious glance at Nat, he brought
his fingers to his lips and tasted.


Tracy shivered, choking back her own revulsion.  Her partner
was so weird!  Was he sniffing it?  What would he hope to
glean from the child's blood!  Did he think he was part
bloodhound or something?  She had seen him make some pretty
amazing connections in the past.  She admired how he pursued
a case, tracking down leads until they had a perp in
custody.  In fact, they had always caught a perp, for every
single case since she'd become his partner, except for the
few cases that she suspected were vampire-related.  She
wondered if he knew what a great track record that was?

Curious, she checked the child's neck for tiny wounds,
before letting them bag the body for removal.  This was not
a vampire's kill.  She heaved a sigh of relief, grateful
that her partner would not be in danger again.  He was so-
so - so something, and he would never believe her if she
tried to tell him about the creatures of the night.  Keeping
secrets had never been easy for her, and this one was
getting harder all the time.

Nick jumped to his feet and looked around furiously, as
though searching for some one to blame, to release the anger
boiling inside.  Tracy thought she knew just how he must
feel.  There were so few clues...  she wondered how they
would solve this case.  Maybe the best thing would be to get
him away from here for now, fill in the reports, search the
records for similar MO's, and call it a night.  Reese
wouldn't be too happy, but she sensed that Nick was near to
losing it.  Maybe his grandmother's death affected him more
than he was letting on?
Something was definitely wrong with him.  He'd been getting
weirder and weirder... maybe he was coming down with
something?  Rumor had it that he'd taken his first sick day
in six years last month.

So Nick was hardly ever sick.  Neither was Vachon... and it
certainly looked like Nick had tasted that child's blood...
could he be?  Tracy almost laughed aloud at the absurd
possibility.  Nick was so straight his clothes squeaked just
to let him sit down.  She hid a grin, as she wondered what
Nick would say if she told him about Vachon.  "Hey, except
for that one little virus, my boyfriend's been healthy for
five hundred years..."  She shook herself.  That would not
be safe to share.  Either Nick would have her committed, or
the vampire Enforcers would have her permanently silenced.

"Come on, Nick," she said, touching his sleeve to gain his
attention.  "Let's get out of here."

"No!"  He whirled around, glaring at her with barely
contained fury.  "Where is he!"

"Who, Nick?  Calm yourself, before you burst a blood
vessel."

Nick shook her off and left the alley with quick strides.
Tracy hurried after him.  "Nick!  Wait up!"

He stormed through the house, kicking in doors, shouting out
a name.  "Roy!  Roy Benson!"

A woman stopped Tracy, flashing her id from social
services.  "Roy is the oldest child.  He's taken custody of
the younger children, until the parents are released.  If
you can't get your partner under control, I'll have him
removed from the premises.  Those children are frightened
enough as it is."

Nick charged out the door and raced to a car just backing
out of the drive.  He got in the path of the car, slamming
his fists on the trunk.  The driver shifted gears and tried
to pull forward, away from the lunatic detective cursing at
him.  Nick lunged for him, grabbing the door handle even as
the car dragged him down the road.  The police officers
stared in confusion.  Tracy had to do something.  Her crazy
partner was going to get himself killed!  Reese would hold
her responsible.  But the lady from social services was
right, the Benson children didn't need this.

Whom should she protect?  Her partner?  The kids?  If she
didn't act quickly, she would be powerless.  Nick was still
clinging to the door, the car was careening down the street,
and someone was going to have to answer for this.  Nick had
an uncanny ability to solve cases.  Even when she thought he
was a few french fries short of a happy meal back with that
vampire-virtual reality game, he had been right.  Tracy drew
her gun and shot out the tires of the car.

The car swerved and hit a tree, stopping abruptly.  Nick
tore the door open and hauled the oldest boy, Roy Benson,
from behind the wheel.  Tracy could hear the other kids in
the back seat of the car crying hysterically.  She hurried
to intervene, unsure whose side to take.
Nick slammed Roy against the hood of the car.  "You
bastard!  You raped her, your own sister!" he raged.  She
had never heard him so agitated before.

"You're way out of line, mister," Roy shouted.  "Leave me
alone, or I'll file charges."

"You're under arrest, for the rape and murder of Mary Grace
Benson," Nick spat.  "And we're reopening the investigation
into her sister's death, too.  You raped her.  You cut her
arms with your jack knife.  You threatened her.  You told
her to be quiet, or you'd kill her, and she believed you.
But you killed her anyway!"

"Nick," Tracy said softly, nervous of the attention drifting
their way.  "Can you prove any of this?  How did you come to
this conclusion?"

"Yeah, Nick," Roy added snidely.  "Prove it.  Or get out of
my face.  I got the kids to take care of, and you're scaring
them shitless."

"DNA tests alone will convict you."

"If you can even do one.  You have to have probable cause to
even investigate me.  Why would I want to harm the kid?"

Nick tore the button off Roy's jacket and held it out.  "We
found this at the site.  Probable cause."

Roy blanched at the audacity of the accusation.  Would this
cop lie?  Could he get away with it?  "You're crazy," Roy
said, his voice shaking.

"You've molested her before.  She wanted to tell someone, so
you hurt her.  You tortured her, then you raped her again,
and killed her to keep her silent.  You did it in the back
of the car.  There will be semen and blood residue there
that will match."

Tracy opened the car door and helped the two terrified
children to get out.  Shining her flashlight on the seat,
she found just what Nick had predicted.  How had he known?

"Can you find the knife?" Nick asked.

She felt under the seats, cringing at the suspicious gooey
items normally found there- stale chips, mushed M & M
candies, half-eaten suckers, until her fingers brushed
against the cold metal of a blade.  Quickly taking out an
evidence bag, she slipped the knife inside and sealed it.

Roy crumpled at the discovery of the knife.  "I didn't want
to do it," he confessed, crying now.  "I didn't mean to hurt
her.  She just wouldn't shut up.  I had to make her quiet!"

Nick snapped handcuffs on him and shoved him at the nearest
uniformed officer.  "Book him, he's all yours."

The social services lady came and took the hands of the
frightened children.  "Detective Knight?  For the sake of
these kids, I thank you.  You may have just saved their
lives."

He turned to her with a tortured expression.  "They will
need to see a doctor.  They were probably victimized, as
well."

Tracy paled, covering her mouth to keep back a startled cry
as the cold reality struck.  Had the older daughter, two
years ago, also threatened to "tell"?  Had she been pushed
in front of the bus?  How deep did the tragedy run?  How
many lives destroyed by that young man?

Tracy took Nick's arm and led him back to the caddy.  The
fury had been spent and now he seemed about ready to
collapse.  Somebody else could book Roy Benson, and somebody
else could take the samples from the car seat and run the
tests.  With Roy's confession, they could hold him and those
damned reports could just wait until tomorrow.  Nick had to
sit down before he fell down.  She opened the passenger side
door and pushed Nick into it.  Then, sliding behind the
wheel, she held out her hand expectantly.  "Keys?"


End Part 2.


The Last Dance, 03/06 
by Lorelei Sieja


To her surprise, Nick handed over the keys without an
argument.  She turned them in the ignition and waited for
the old engine to turn over.  It roared to life.  Nick kept
it in great shape.  "Where to, old man?" she asked lightly. 
"Can I take you home?"

Nick didn't answer.  She pulled away from the police lights
and confusion, then headed in the general direction of his
loft.  Nick stared without seeing.  He should talk to some
one...  "Do you want me to take you to Natalie?" she asked.

He shook his head.  So that was out.  Then he directed her
where to turn, leading not towards the loft, but to the
Raven.  "Pull around back," he said.  His voice was flat,
emotionless.  She glanced at him again.  

"Nick, I don't think this is such a good idea."  She  became
even more alarmed when she scraped the tires on the curb as
she parked and he didn't say a thing.  

Nick reached for the keys to pull one off from the chain
before handing them back to her.  "You can take the caddy
back to the precinct," he said.  "I'll flag a ride in
tomorrow."

This was not good, she thought.  There was no way she could
leave her partner alone.  He was definitely out of it and
the Raven drew some of the seediest clientele in the city. 
The mortal ones seemed to live with a death wish, and the
immortal ones... well, it just wasn't safe.  And sometimes
Nick could be so na=EFve.  

She watched, dumbfounded, as Nick slipped the key into the
door and let himself inside.  Why would he have his own
key?  Tracy sprang from the caddy just in time to grab the
door before it latched shut behind him.  

Nick didn't hear her follow him.  It surprised her how much
that comforted her, as she knew Vachon's hearing was
superhuman.  Nick was nothing like Vachon.  Then she stopped
in her tracks.  Nick collapsed into the firm embrace of that
Nightcrawler guy!  She would never have believed it, if she
hadn't seen it for herself.  Nick, the rock, also known as
the "Knightmare", now looked like a lost little boy.  But
the Nightcrawler!  LaCroix was his name, she recalled, as
he'd been brought in for questioning a few weeks ago when a
beheaded corpse was found in his freezer.  He intimidated
mortals with no more than a glance.  Still, there was
something between them.  She was about to ask, when the
older man silenced her with a small gesture.

He held Nick, one hand on his back, another cradling his
head.  For many moments, he didn't speak aloud, although
Tracy sensed they were communicating somehow.  Then LaCroix
straightened.  "Why don't you head upstairs, my son.  I will
join you shortly."

Nick complied, knowing just which door to take, and left
without a backward glance.  Tracy was sure he still didn't
know she was there.  As the door closed behind him, LaCroix
took a step closer.  "May I help you?" he asked.

She felt prickles up her back.  This guy was so creepy. 
"Your son?  Nick is your son?"

"I will ask you again, Miss Vetter.  What is it that you
want?"

"I was worried about Nick," she stammered.  LaCroix raised
an eyebrow and waited.  "We had a really rough night, and
Nick sort of lost it."

"Lost it?"

"Yeah... he collared the killer, but he was pretty ragged. 
I got him away, and thought he should go home or something. 
I don't think he should be alone tonight."

"Yes, thank you.  I too have sensed his uncertainty.  I will
see to his needs."

"Mr. LaCroix?"  Tracy hesitated.  How could she tell him to
be gentle, when he terrified her?  "Um, please, take care of
him.  I'm kind of worried about him, and he's the best. 
Really."  Then she ducked out quickly and drove away.


LaCroix slowly ascended the stairs to his private quarters
and contemplated Miss Vetter's strange appearance.  She was
too inquisitive for her own good.  Something would have to
be done about her.  But she did have one redeeming quality. 
She cared for his son, and not romantically.  She might yet
prove useful.

Nick stood in the center of the living room without moving. 
He looked tired and lost.  LaCroix hesitated before opening
the mind link and gently probing his son.  He was struck
with a confusion so profound that it left him gasping. 
"Nicholas," he said.  "What is it?"

Nick trembled.  "I don't know, LaCroix.  I- I - nothing is
the same.  I don't know who I am any more.  I almost killed
a man tonight- just in anger.  In full sight of several
dozen mortals.  I'm losing control."

LaCroix slowly unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. 
"Come, Nicholas.  Permit me do this for you."

Nick looked at him with wide eyes.  LaCroix pulled the
fabric back, revealing his smooth, alabaster neck.  His
prot=E9g=E9 only stared, rooted to the floor.  LaCroix held out
his arms, beckoning, welcoming him.  "Come, Nicholas.  You
know it will calm you.  Quid pro quo."

He watched as the change came over Nick.  Eyes glowed a
feral red, fangs descended.  LaCroix never tired of watching
this, his beautiful creation.  Then to his surprise, Nick
loosened the buttons at his own collar as well before
drawing near.

LaCroix closed his eyes and waited.  Nick fell into his
arms, burying his face in his neck.  LaCroix felt the sharp
points of his teeth lightly scrape across the sensitive
skin.  A delicious shiver shot through him.  It had been
many, many years since they had shared this most intimate of
embraces.  

Nick plunged his teeth into the soft throat, sucking the
cold, ancient blood of his master.  LaCroix felt a tremor
run through his sensitive child.  He wondered what had
Nicholas so upset this time.  This was more than just
another mortal death, or the fear of losing control.  So
much had been happening of late.  LaCroix came close to
feeling a bit overwhelmed at times himself.  The best thing
for both of them would be to flee this area, to begin anew,
somewhere else, but even as he considered it, he knew his
son would disagree.  

Nick sucked harder, yet craned his neck, exposing it for his
master.  He intended that this sharing be reciprocal.  Words
often failed the young knight, but his blood would tell the
master everything.  LaCroix braced himself for the emotional
onslaught, then reared his head and struck swiftly,
penetrating the proffered throat.  

Images flooded past too fast to acknowledge.  LaCroix did
not even try.  He absorbed them all and saved them to review
later.  For now, all he could do was relish the taste of his
favorite son.  It had been too long....  

Nick pulled back, slowly licking the twin small wounds until
they healed over, even as his tears broke loose to stain his
cheeks.  He buried his face in LaCroix's shoulder and
sobbed.  

"I couldn't do it," he whispered, trembling hard.

LaCroix thought about what Tracy had told him.  Nick had
almost killed a man tonight.  Was that what he couldn't do?

"I wanted to go to her, to help her.  Divia had attacked
her, and I knew she was probably dead, but I wanted to go
there.  I thought maybe I could save her.  But I couldn't
leave you alone.  How I've hated you over the years, I even
tried to kill you.  But that night, I couldn't turn my back
and let her win!"

Now some of the montage of images LaCroix had gleaned from
his son were starting to make sense.  Nick had had to chose
between Urs, his newest romantic fling, and LaCroix.  It had
worked out well in the end, as LaCroix had been able to save
the fledgling, but at the time, Nick couldn't have known
that.  He had chosen to save his master.  For some reason,
that made him weep.  LaCroix was certain he would never
understand the boy.  But it was getting quite late.  The sun
was already up.  Nicholas was exhausted.  Time to end this
little foray into emotionalism.  He scooped Nicholas into
his arms effortlessly and carried him into the bedroom. 
Only half hearing the boy's sobbed confessions, he removed
his clothing and tucked him in between clean satin sheets of
the seldom-used guest bed.  

"Rest now, my son.  We will straighten things out tomorrow."

Nicholas still seemed agitated and distraught.  LaCroix
wondered if he would have to hypnotize him to calm him
down.  He had thought his prot=E9g=E9 had grown beyond that
decades ago.  "LaCroix?" he asked.

LaCroix waited by the door.

"Thank you."



The ancient vampire discovered, much to his chagrin, that
sleep eluded him.  As he closed his eyes and tried to relax,
he was inundated with visions and from his son.  The more he
tried to ignore them, the more persistent they grew. 
Exasperated, he tossed back the quilt and went to refill his
glass.  He might as well sort through them.  Then perhaps he
would find rest.  

LaCroix sat in his favorite leather chair, crossing his legs
and setting the crystal goblet on the end table.  Then he
closed his eyes and opened himself to the images.

First, there was grief.  Nicholas still grieved for his
partner, Schanke.  The pain was tolerable, though, as he had
finally come to accept that this one's death was not his
fault.  Still, it opened a new wound.  Nicholas had been
deeply hurt, yet his beloved Natalie had failed him. 
Instead of consoling or comforting him, she had yelled at
him.  How dare he think about moving on!  How dare he turn
his back on her and all the work she'd done for him! 
LaCroix's anger for the coroner grew exponentially.  Didn't
she know by now that his son was a most passionate,
emotional being, not particularly known for clear and
rational thought?  

Then there was that dreadful night, when Nicholas's memories
had been taken from him.  Natalie had almost succeeded,
LaCroix thought with dread, in killing his child then. 
Nicholas hadn't known how to protect himself any more, and
had burned himself quite badly in the light of dawn.  Later,
he had come to LaCroix for help in regaining his memories.

LaCroix was no fool.  There were many things in their past
that did not bear remembering.  Eventually, they would come
back to Nicholas, depending on how frequently they exchanged
blood.  But that day LaCroix had concentrated on the more
pleasant memories.  The times they had traveled together,
reveling in their existence.  He did let Nicholas see
something of his senseless quest, but he ensured that the
younger vampire saw LaCroix's distress over it, at the
thought that his son did basically want to commit vampire
suicide.  

Then came the demon possession.  LaCroix still doubted that
it had actually happened.  Was Nicholas really possessed by
something LaCroix didn't believe to exist, or did he merely
think he was possessed?  It was immaterial now.  LaCroix had
come to his aid, and Nicholas had been grateful.  

Then LaCroix came across some memories he knew nothing
about.  They were confused and concealed.  Someone should
teach that boy how to think more clearly.  There was a
vampire with three names... Monica, Jacqueline, and ...
something else.  Only, she was disturbed, and Nicholas had
not even been certain she was a vampire.  LaCroix wondered
who her teacher had been.  Her mental powers must have been
great.  She had died, falling from the roof of a tall
building and not flying to save herself.  She must have been
a very young fledgling for such an injury to have been
fatal.  His employee, Urs, was in the memory as well.  She
was crying, and Nicholas was comforting her.  

A smile lifted the ancient's lips.  Once a knight, always a
knight, he thought.  Nicholas had a most gallant way with
women.  Too bad that most modern females could not
appreciate it.  

Then the memory grew more intense.  Nicholas felt something
for this young vampire.  LaCroix was irritated.  Ursula was
conflicted, often miserable and unhappy with her vampire
existence.  Of all the vampires in Toronto, couldn't
Nicholas have found a more suitable mate for his needs? 
Perhaps he should fire her, and send her far, far away....

The images were crystal clear now.  LaCroix felt their
passion as they filled one another, his own undead heart
beat too fast with arousal.  Again and again Nick's blood
memories displayed their passion aa they had spent many
hours in each other's necks.  That his lusty crusader should
behave so was no surprise, but the sensuous female in the
memory bore little resemblance to the shy, timid dancer
known as Urs.    

The next images were of the strained relationship between
Nicholas and the medical examiner, Natalie Lambert.  She
must have sensed Nicholas was pulling away from her,
returning to the fold, yet Nicholas was not yet ready to
sever the ties with her.  He felt a sense of duty towards
her, but he questioned his love.  He acknowledged that they
often hurt each other.  And he wondered just how much more
either of them could endure.  

Well, if Urs could drive a wedge between his son and that
infuriating mortal, then LaCroix would honor her for the
rest of her unlife.  He'd extend his umbrella of protection
over her, and offer to care for her, if the irresponsible
Spaniard should abandone her again.  

But there was still more in Nicholas's confused offerings. 
There was fear, love, hatred, desire, devotion, and more,
all aimed at him.  Nicholas was torn between their centuries
old battle of wills, and wanting to be a part of a family
again.  

No wonder the poor boy had nearly come unglued.  So much
turmoil in one small brain.  He should not have let so much
time pass before offering the comfort of the blood kiss. 
LaCroix pushed the images aside for now.  He stood and went
to check in on his son.  An overwhelming feeling gripped him
at the sight of the innocent young knight asleep in the
large bed.  Golden hair against a black satin pillow, a
graceful arm draped across his chest.  The lines of worry
and fatigue were gone, the face was smooth and peaceful.  

"Sleep well, Nicholas," he whispered.




End, part 3.


The Last Dance, 04/06 
by Lorelei Sieja


Tracy slipped behind the wheel of the caddy and sat
motionless, her mind a whirl of confused and angry
thoughts.  Why hadn't he told her about his father?  She
blathered on and on about hers, right from the very first
night, and he'd just sat there and nodded with polite
understanding, like some sympathetic uncle.  Damn it!  He
could have been more supportive.  He could have given her
inside information on how to break the ties that bind when
those ties were forged with tritanium.  Her lips curled in a
smug grin.  This new information had to be worth something! 
That Nick had not told anyone LaCroix was his father, even
when he'd had to bring him in for questioning, then it was
obviously something he wanted kept secret... she was going
to get as much mileage out of this as possible!

But as she pulled away from the curb, she still felt a
slight shiver at leaving Nick behind in such a dangerous
place.  True, LaCroix was a formidable person, but did he
know about the vampires in his bar?  Well, she was a
detective, and it was time to do a little detective work...
even if the subject was her partner.  Returning the caddy to
the parking lot at the precinct, she slipped inside.  Reese
had already left for the day, and none of the day shift crew
felt inclined to chitchat.  No one seemed to notice when she
slipped in to Nick's desk, either.  

The top drawer was locked.  Therefore, it was the one she
wanted.  Pulling out a nail file and credit card, it didn't
take much to slip the simple catch aside.  Right on the top
was an 8 x 10 of LaCroix, signed, with a few words in
French.  She didn't know any of them.  It just struck her
then, that of course, he would speak French.  Knight wasn't
a French name, but LaCroix certainly was.  She tried to
imagine Nick as a little French boy, growing up with that
overbearing man... then there was that weird sun allergy. 
What kind of concessions would his parent have had to make? 
Would his father have given up a day job and altered his
entire lifestyle to accommodate his child?  Maybe become a
nightclub owner?  It made sense.  What about schools?  Had
they found some windowless private school or had he been
tutored at home?  She felt overwhelmed with sympathy for the
lonely, dark childhood he must have endured.  No wonder he
was such a loner now.  
Another picture lay beneath the first.  This one was
smaller.  It was the face of a lovely woman, a few years
older than Nick perhaps, but still oddly familiar.  This one
had no name or other markings.  Janette!  It was that woman
suspected of murder a few months ago.  Nick had been
covering for her, and Tracy had suspected then that the
woman was his sister.  The boy, Patrick, had said they were
coming to Toronto to visit Uncle Nick, a man he'd never
met.  

Janette had disappeared then, and Nick had seemed so sad for
many weeks.  The murders had eventually been filed with the
unsolveds, and life went on.  Now, Tracy looked at the two
photos, two keys in unlocking Nick's past.  And overbearing
father, a drop-dead gorgeous older sister, both a bit on the
shady side of the law, and Nick a police detective.  No
wonder he kept quiet about his past.  Visions of a little
Oliver, trained to steal, danced in her imagination.  What
else had they taught him to do?  Suddenly, the small worry
she'd been nursing for him all night mushroomed into a real
fear.  Slamming the drawer closed, she grabbed her car
keys.  It was time to pay Vachon a visit.


The church was dark and silent.  She let herself in and
climbed up the dark stairs to the unusual living quarters at
the top.  This door was locked.  She knocked politely for
all of a minute, before giving in to her frustrations and
kicking and beating on it.  "Vachon!  I know you're in
there!  Wake up, now!  We have to talk!  Vachon!"

The door opened, and a half dressed, half-dead vampire stood
before her.  His long, dark hair half concealed his face. 
"You've got one minute to explain, and this had better be
good," he said with a few added curses for emphasis.

"Vachon, it's me, Tracy.  Wake up!  We have to talk."
His eyes opened a bit with a sheepish look.  "Tracy?  What
are you doing here?  It's morning."

Tracy pushed inside and went straight to his tidy
kitchenette to fix herself a cup of tea.  Although his
housekeeping skills were pathetic, he never used this area
of the church for it to get messy.  "Vachon.  I want to know
about LaCroix.  Tell me everything."

Vachon moved like a zombie to the refrigerator.  Pulling out
a green glass bottle he upended its contents, gulping
noisily.  He swiped his mouth with a bare arm, then turned
to face her with eyes still at half-mast.  "Tracy.  Now it
not a good time.  Can we continue this heart-to-heart in
about another eight hours?"

"I'm worried about Nick," she explained.  "It was a really
bad night, and I took him to the Raven.  That man, LaCroix,
said he'd take care of "his son".  Man, I never knew Nick
had a dad, I mean, one that was still a live.  And LaCroix,
of all people!  That guy is one scary dude.  Nick is so
na=EFve sometimes.  I don't think LaCroix is exactly above
board... will Nick be okay there for the day?  I just don't
think I can sleep right now, worrying about him."

"Nick's a big boy," Vachon began, noncommittally.  "He can
take care of himself."

"But you do know LaCroix.  I mean, he owns the bar you work
at.  I've seen you talk to him.  He must know what you are,
he is too smart to be fooled."

"Tracy.  Drop it.  This is not something we should be
talking about," Vachon said.  He slipped his arms around her
in a distracting manner.  
Tracy was very much aware of him.  She leaned her cheek
against his smooth, stone-cold chest.  It would be so easy
to just stay there.  Her father would have a fit!  Vachon
was not the sort of man she could bring home to meet
daddy... but maybe that was part of his charm?  Something of
the forbidden.  Very forbidden.

"Stop trying to change the subject, Vachon," she snapped,
pulling free.  
"What is it that you want me to do?"  

He looked so sexy with his eyes half closed, she thought. 
"Could you keep an eye on Nick?"

"Protect him?  From LaCroix?"  Both eyes shot open.  Tracy
wondered at the look of fear in them.  She had been right. 
LaCroix must be really dangerous if even a vampire was
afraid of him.

Then Vachon laughed.  

"What is so damn funny," she said. 

"Only that Nick asked me to do that very same thing for
you."

Tracy shut her mouth and glared at him.  "He did not. 
You're just saying that."

Vachon shrugged, yawning widely and displaying his fangs.  

"I thought he trusted me," she said softly.  "He alone
treated me like I had a head on my shoulders, and not like
some blonde bimbo with a well-placed dad."

"Tracy, Tracy," Vachon said.  "He does trust you.  Nick's a
great guy.  But, I don't think he trusts me.  By asking me
to protect you, he was making me take responsibility for my
actions.  This was about me, not about you."

"Why wouldn't he trust you?"

Vachon just shrugged.  "Trace.  I don't think well in the
middle of the morning.  You win.  I'll keep one eye on Nick,
and the other on you, and make you both happy.  But for now
I'm going to keep both eyes closed.  You're welcome to stay
the day if you wish."

She reached up on her toes and pecked him on the cheek. 
"Thanks, Vachon. Then, he flopped on top of the mattress on
the floor in the back corner, already asleep before she had
closed the door behind her.  


Reese was furious.  Tracy knew he had a right to be, but the
protectiveness she felt for her partner was warring with
reason.  Roy Benson was in jail, arrested for sexual assault
and second-degree murder.  Roy had signed a confession and
waived his right to an attorney.  It looked like this case
might just go through after all.  But Nick had screwed up
big time.  He had practically assaulted the suspect, he
hadn't read him his rights, he hadn't got a warrant to
search the vehicle-- and he would not have been able to get
one, as there was not one shred of evidence that would link
Roy to the murder.  Nick had made one of his notorious leaps
of intuition. 

"Captain, please," she began, as she considered that what
she was going to say just might be career suicide.  "I know
he was out of line, but do you think you could chew him out
later?  Like next week sometime?"

Reese's cheeks puffed out and his eyes took on that
blood-shot hue of impending disaster.  

"Please!  You didn't see him last night.  I mean, he was
really out of it.  I do not know what is wrong, but I think
if you come down on him tonight, he might just quit."

Reese drew in a breath, still ready to do battle.  Tracy
plunged on ahead.  She was in too far now to back off. 
"Captain, you've been after me all year to get together with
my partner.  Now, I'm telling you, he needs some time off. 
At least a week.  I promise you, I'm right about this."

The police captain closed his mouth.  He rubbed at his
forehead silently for some time.  At last, he heaved a sigh,
and Tracy knew she'd convinced him.

"Alright, Vetter.  You and him finish the Benson reports
tonight, and then I'll send him home.  Dismissed."

Nick was a few minutes late.  Tracy watched with the
nervousness of a mother hen as he approached his desk.  He
looked better somehow.  His complexion was still pale, since
he had that sun allergy and never tanned.  The big, silly
grin he'd worn last night before they went to the Benson
murder scene was gone, but so was the rage he'd shown
later.  
"Your keys are on your desk," she said.  "I didn't scratch
or dent it."

Nick laughed.  "Thanks, kid."

Natalie came by shortly, hand delivering some autopsy
reports.  Tracy thought she looked strained and tired.  So
whatever Nick was getting, Natalie wasn't giving it.  Well,
that girl had waited too long.  You couldn't keep a guy as
good looking as Nick hanging around forever without good
incentive.  Maybe they would get back together though...
eventually.
An hour later, the report was finished and filed.  Reese
stepped out of his office and quietly approached their
desks.  "Nick?" he asked.

Nick looked at him curiously.  The detective hadn't a clue
that his captain was mad enough to demote him to traffic for
the next six months.  Reese shook his head and calmed
himself.  Perhaps Tracy was right.  He could always yell at
him later.  

"Detectives, good work getting that killer off the streets
before he harmed any more children.  You're both on leave
for a week, effective immediately."

"Me, captain?" Tracy interrupted.  "What did I do?"

"You are getting in sinc with your partner.  So why damage
that by putting you on with someone else for a week?"  Being
captain had its moments, he thought.  "Now get out of here,
both of you."  He gave them a smile to soften the blow.  

"Come on, Nick," Tracy said, pulling on her coat.  "I'll buy
you a drink."

Nick pulled on the short, black leather jacket that made him
look just a little dangerous.  Tracy grinned at the irony. 
He was such an innocent sometimes.  How had he managed to
stay that way, with a father like LaCroix?  Why did they
have different last names?  Was Nick ashamed to be
associated with him?  Was his father into something
illegal?  Maybe after a few drinks, Nick would tell her
everything.  
"Where to," Nick asked, sliding behind the wheel of the
caddy.  
"The Raven, where else.  I hear you're pretty tight with the
owner.  Think he'll give us a discount?"

"Where'd you hear that!" 

Tracy wondered at the sudden sharp tone.  Was he
embarrassed?  No, she didn't think so.  Alarmed, more like
it.  Well, LaCroix was intimidating.  "From LaCroix himself,
Nick.  He told me you were his son."

Nick stared at her so hard that he nearly hit someone.
  
"Keep your eyes on the road, Nick, will you?"

"When?"

"Every time you drive would be nice, but I suppose that's
too much to hope for," she quipped, knowing full well that
wasn't what he meant.  Nick glanced at her again, worry
puckering his brow.

"He told me that last night.  I brought you to the Raven,
and I was really worried about you.  So was he.  You don't
have to be embarrassed about it, or worried, or what ever
else is running through that very thick skull.  I know what
it's like to live with a difficult father.  If you want to
talk about it sometime, I'm here."

Nick just nodded.  "Tracy?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Around LaCroix, "discount" is a four-letter word."

She grinned.  "Got it."


The Raven was packed.  Nick had to park over a block away. 
The bouncer nodded at Nick though and let him pass.  Not a
good thing, to bounce the owner's son, she thought,
irritated that Nick had not told her sooner.  

Vachon was on the stage playing a soft number with the
band.  He smiled at her as she passed.  She returned a
smile, wondering if he even remembered their conversation
from earlier that morning.  Nick leaned against the bar and
called the bartender by name.  That shouldn't have surprised
her, she thought.  With his dad the owner, he probably came
here a lot.  Still, the bartender was kind of weird looking,
and gave her the jeebies...  she was fairly certain he
belonged to Vachon's secret community.  And Nick was just
talking to him, without a care in the world.  This was not
good.  

"What will you have?" Nick asked her.  She jumped, startled
from her thoughts.  

"Wine is fine," she answered.  "Chablis?"

Moments later, Nick lead her towards the far corner and
placed two glasses of wine on the table, one white and one
red.  She would have pegged him for a beer-drinker herself,
but then, he was French....  
"So, Nick.  You come here often?"

"Is this going to be twenty questions?" Nick replied, with a
familiar teasing tone.

"Yes.  Why don't you ever talk about your family?  Why the
big secret?"

Nick sipped from his glass, the teasing still evident in his
eyes.  "Twenty questions it is.  I don't talk about my
family because with you I can't get a word in edgewise. 
Number two, I haven't kept anything a secret, and I don't
recall you ever asking me about my father.  Next?"

She punched his shoulder playfully.  "I don't talk about dad
that much, do I?"  

"Number three.  No, not too much.  Only when you aren't
talking about a case."

"That one doesn't count, does it?  It wasn't about you."

"Number four.  Yes it counts and so does this one.  Next?" 

"Are you always this difficult?"

"I don't know if I can honestly answer that one, but if you
trust Natalie's opinion, then I think answer is "yes"."  

Tracy thought for a moment, eyeing her partner critically. 
He was enjoying himself entirely too much.  It was good to
see.  Last night she'd been so worried about him.  What ever
his father had said to him seemed to have helped.  If Nick
would play by the rules, she could get fifteen more
questions answered.  They'd better be good.  

She already knew Janette was his sister.  She wouldn't waste
a question on that just for confirmation, and probably
reveal that she'd gone through his desk in the process. 
Then she remembered his relaxed, happy attitude only a few
days ago... and she knew it had nothing to do with Natalie.

"Ok, Nick.  You have a girlfriend.  What's her name?"

"That's two questions," Nick said.

"Nope.  I didn't ask the first, I stated it."

"What if I said I don't have a girlfriend?"

"I'd call you a liar, and it's not your turn to ask the
questions, lover-boy.  Now fess up."

Nick squirmed in his seat, clutching his wineglass and
taking a nervous sip.  Tracy hid a grin behind her glass. 
Nick was embarrassed, and she was going to enjoy every
minute.  

"I don't know if she's really my girlfriend, as you put it. 
We only just started seeing each other, but we have spent
some time together.  And I enjoy her company," he
deliberated.

"Names, Nick.  I'll ask for details later."

"You're not playing fair."

"So sue me."

Nick cleared his throat.  "Urs.  Ursula.  She didn't tell me
her last name.  But she's American.  She's from San
Francisco, I think."

"Where did you take her on your first date?"

"Tracy," Nick stated, slipping in to that "older brother"
mode he used sometimes.  "You're too young to hear about
that."

"So edit out the juicy parts, partner, and tell the rest. 
Where did you go?"

His eyes took on a distant look.  Tracy waited, wondering if
he'd lose track of the questions and just start talking.  


End, part 4.


The Last Dance, 05/06
by Lorelei Sieja

Flashback: Toronto, two weeks ago

Nick held the fledgling vampire in his arms.  She clung to
him with a desperation that tore at his soul, sobbing,
grieving for Ellen-Monica-Jacqueline's death, for the lives
wasted, for the death of innocence and the heavy price
paid.  Her blood tears soaked through his coat, each new
stain tantalizing him with her nearness and her need.  She
was so lost and alone, and her scent overwhelmed him.

She was Vachon's child, Nick knew.  But Vachon was a child
himself, irresponsible, irascible, yet somehow appealing
even with his total lack of any morally redeeming
qualities.  Vachon had never had a parent; he'd been
orphaned at his vampire birth.  Nick did not know how to
help her.  She almost seemed envious of Monica's end of
suffering.  He had to do something.  He couldn't turn his
back and let her take a coward's way out.

He tightened his arms around her, whispering tenderly into
her ear.  One hand massaged her back in small circles,
another brushed at the soft, short curls that framed her
tragic face.  "Little flower, we must leave from here," he
whispered.  "Do you hear the sirens?  Come, let me take you
home."

"Not home," she sobbed.   "I don't have a home."

"Come with me."  And holding her delicate hand, as fragile
and cold as fine bone china, he escorted her into the
star-filled night sky.

Where should he take her?  The loft might not be the best
option.  Natalie had her own key and tended to drop in
unannounced.  The Raven would be crowded and noisy.  He
wanted someplace private, comfortable, and very, very safe.
This little flower was in danger and he couldn't turn away.
Scanning the neon lights below, he found his inspiration.
Moments later, he was whipping out a credit card at the
Hilton and requesting the penthouse suite.

"Nick, you don't have to do this," Urs whispered timidly.

"I know.  But I want to.  Please?"

She went along without resistance.  She was so very
different from either Janette or Natalie, he thought.  They
were both intelligent, formidable, proud women.  He'd heard
part of Jacqueline's diatribe aimed at Urs, telling her why
she spent her existence trying to please men... always
searching for love from the father who had abandoned her.
But Nick would leave her too, ultimately.  He had a life, a
career, and obligations.  He could only give her a night or
two.
At the door, Nick drew the card through the lock and waited
for the green light, then pushed the heavy door open.
Scooping Urs up into his arms, he carried her inside.  She
felt so small and light.  There wasn't much to her.  She
rested her head on his shoulder.  He inhaled, drawing in her
scent.  He couldn't quite identify it.  She was bittersweet,
faintly fragrant.  His fangs itched.  But he would not push
their night any further than she was willing to share.  He
was here to comfort her, not take advantage of a situation.

Nick set her on her feet and took a few steps back, allowing
her some space.  He wanted to let her know that he wouldn't
push her.  He sat on the bed and lifted the phone to place
an order in to the Raven, ensuring for their most basic
needs.  Then he went to open a window for the delivery.

Urs turned around in place, staring at the suite with large,
sad eyes.

"So what do you think?" he asked, hoping to put her at ease.

"This is lovely, Nick.  Do our kind ever actually live like
this?"

He cocked his head curiously.  "Like what?"

"Here!  In luxury, among mortals!"

"LaCroix would never stay anywhere else," Nick answered
derisively.  "Me, I like a little variety now and then.
Maybe the Hilton today, maybe a rustic mountain lodge
tomorrow... but it is a little different from Vachon's
church, isn't it.  Do you want to call him?  Let him know
where you are?"

"Why?"

Nick shrugged, hiding his own embarrassment.  LaCroix
demanded such considerations.  Of course, Vachon wouldn't.
He gave Urs too much freedom; LaCroix gave not enough.

For long, awkward moments, neither moved or said a word.
Then slowly, Urs approached him, swaying her hips
provocatively.  Nick felt his pulse pick up a beat, but he
couldn't catch the scent of arousal from her.  She wasn't
doing this because she was attracted to him, but because she
felt this was expected.  Nick could no longer deny that he
wanted her.  Janette had been gone for so long, and Natalie
was untouchable.  He needed her now, here, tonight.  But not
like this.  He jumped to his feet and turned away from her.

Urs froze, withdrawing from him as if he'd slapped her.  "I-
I'm sorry.  Maybe I should go?"

"No, Urs.  I'm sorry.  Let's just talk tonight, okay?
Nothing more."

Shortly, the Raven's finest reserve was delivered, and Nick
poured them each a glass.  "How about a toast?"

She stared at him.  Toasting was another mortal custom.  She
could be a chameleon, changing herself to be what ever a man
wanted her to be, but with Nick she felt a slight panic.
What was it that he wanted?  A toast now?  Hesitantly she
raised her glass.

"To us.  Les Miserables.  That we may both find what we
seek, and recognize it when we find it."  Then he drained
his glass.

Urs stared at him.  Was Nick unhappy, too?  She didn't know
him well.  Vachon was afraid of him.  LaCroix was disgusted
with him.  Many of the local vampires ignored him.  Why was
he miserable?  She sipped her beverage, barely tasting it,
as she watched him with new eyes.

Yes, there were lines in his face... lines of sadness and of
strain.  It was a handsome face.  And although she knew he
was centuries older than her and Vachon together, he still
looked so young and alone, a prodigal son, ashamed and
afraid, but unsure how to put things right again.  She
stepped closer to him and touched his shirt, fingering the
stains her tears had made.

Nick inhaled sharply.  His eyes clenched shut but he did not
back away from her advance.  Those delicate fingers moved
upward, along his face, behind his ear, working themselves
into his hair.  Then they stopped their slow, deliberate
seduction and returned to his shirt, where they slipped the
top button free.

"Perhaps we could explore the bath," she whispered.


The suite had a bathroom that was larger than Vachon's
entire living space inside the abandoned church.  The
jacuzzi bath was in the center, with a remote controlled
entertainment center.  Nick started the water flowing into
the double-sized tub before tuning in to a suitable radio
station.  Soft instrumentals sang out a variety of love
songs from John Denver to George Gershwin.  Then he lowered
the lights, casting the room in amber tones.

Urs stepped into his arms again and continued to undo his
buttons.  As each section of flesh was exposed, she covered
it with a kiss.  Then the black silk fabric slipped from his
shoulders and pooled on the floor at his feet. Nick's eyes
were already golden with desire.  Urs smiled softly.  She
had hardly yet begun.  His needs were more immediate than
her own though.  She would have to hasten this first union
and hope that a second one would soon develop, slower and
more sensual.  Without having tasting one drop from him, she
was certain that the gorgeous hunk had been celibate for
longer than was healthy for a vampire.  She undid her top
button and exposed her throat, leaning in to his embrace
offering up freely that which he needed, wanted, desired
beyond all reason.

A growl issued from deep in his throat.  Nick grasped her to
him, nuzzling her neck with soft, tentative nips.  Still, he
hesitated.  Urs let her fangs drop then and bit him first.
There was nothing tentative in her bite.  She sank into his
throat and drank him, her arms holding him close.  She could
taste his desire.  And suddenly, she wanted him too.

Then Nick returned her bite, taking that which she so
willingly offered.  Her blood rushed into him, completing
the erotic circle of the gift.  Her life filled him even as
his filled her.  And in their blood they saw one another's
pain.  They knew that this was not an exchange born of love
but of need.  Still, their passion rose and crested, leaving
them both shuddering in one another's arms.

Slowly, Nick became aware again of the room around him, the
soft music, the dimly lit room, and the bath water nearly
overflowing.  He laughed self-consciously.  "Um, milady,
would you still care to bathe?"

Urs didn't let him pull away just yet.  She'd tasted his
penchant for self-loathing and doubt.  She knew she had to
reassure him immediately.  "Thank you," she whispered into
his ear, as though the union had been for her benefit
alone.  Then she let him turn off the taps.


The bath was the most sensual union she had ever had
before.  With the jets of warm water massaging them, she
brought Nick to the peak of arousal again and again.  Each
time she found something new in his blood and she craved
more of it.  He was so open, so guileless.  Never had she
tasted anything sweeter.  He was like a potent opiate, and
she was fast becoming addicted to him.

Urs returned his honest offering, dropping her own
well-constructed barriers and letting him taste her
secrets.  It was terrifying.  Each time she wondered if he
would be disheartened when he knew more about her, but still
he wanted more.  With each union, she felt that here, at
last, was someone who could love her.  He could know her,
the real Ursula and not the chameleon, and still he would
want her.  She felt almost giddy with delight.

When all the bottles of Raven Special Reserve were empty,
and the deep water was turning cold, Nick suggested that it
was time to get out.  She knew he was right, but she was
still sorry that this one magical day was drawing to a
close.

Nick helped her onto the bathmat, then tenderly patted her
dry with the large bathsheet.  He carried her to the
king-size bed.  Laying her down with surprising tenderness,
he averted his eyes nervously and started to murmur some
sort of apology.  Urs resisted the urge to laugh.  She
brought her hands up and tangled them in his damp hair.

"Come to bed, Nick," she said.

"Would you rather that I sleep on the couch?"

"No."

He needed no further encouragement.  His firm, well-muscled
form soon stretched out beside her, one leg draped over her
protectively, one arm held her tight against his chest, and
then the knight gave in to his exhaustion.  Urs felt both
safe and wanted, for the first time that she could ever
remember.

*** End Flashback ***


Nick told Tracy only part of that memory.  It was still too
incredible to believe.  Urs was the most unusual vampire
he'd ever had the pleasure of tasting.  She was so giving.
She gave of herself openly, not demanding a thing from him
in return.  And Nick found that it made him want to give her
the world.  He had asked her, timidly, if she would join him
again the next day at the motel, and she had accepted.  For
two full weeks they shared their days together, and somehow,
strangely, their needs developed into love.  Nick was
certain that Urs loved him.  He could taste it in her blood,
although neither of them had yet uttered the term of
endearment.
"You took her to the Hilton!" Tracy exclaimed.  "And that is
not another question, you brat, since I know the answer.
But the Hilton!  Nick, sleep cheaps are for one-nighters,
the Hilton is for a relationship!  This is serious."

Nick's brows puckered and he looked at her curiously.
"Sleep cheaps?"

Tracy laughed.  "I guess that is another four-letter word,
like "discount".  Runs in the family, huh?"

"No, I don't think so.  But what is a sleep cheap?"

"Nick, it's not your turn to ask the questions.  And just
because you don't know how the other half lives doesn't mean
you're not a snob."

Nick shrugged.  He thought he'd been keeping up with the
times, learning the changes that evolved in modern language,
yet this young partner made him feel antiquated.  He smiled
at the waitress as she brought them each new drinks.  He
tossed a tip on her tray.  She knew to put the drinks on his
tab, which LaCroix might or might not ever send to him.

Tracy examined her partner carefully.  She'd never seen him
drink before.  He didn't seem to be getting intoxicated, but
he did look more relaxed than she'd ever seen him.  She
smiled at the waitress to catch her attention before she
departed.  "Keep them coming," Tracy said, indicating their
glasses.  "We're going to be here a while."

Nick laughed.  "Aren't we about out of questions, Tracy?"

"Nope.  That was only ten.  I have ten more."

"Only ten.  Then you'll be satisfied?"

"Not on your life, mister.  But that will be enough to hold
me over for a while."

There was still something about Nick that didn't wash.  He
was so different from other men.  He was different from what
little she knew of his father.  "What was your mother like?"
she blurted out.

A frown crossed his face then.  Not the guarded look, like
maybe she was getting too personal, but rather a look of
pain.  He fidgeted, playing with the rim of his glass.  "I
can't answer that one," he said softly.

"Why?"

He looked at her then, straight at her.  The dim lights of
the Raven reflected in his blue eyes, giving them flecks of
gold.  He looked so sad just then.  Tracy reached out and
held his hand reassuringly.

"I can't remember her," he whispered.  "Remember when I had
amnesia a few months ago?  I still don't have all my
memories.  I know I had a mother and that she was good and
kind, but I don't remember anything else about her.  Not
even what she looked like."

"Will the rest of your memories return?"

Nick shrugged.  "I don't know, Tracy.  I truly don't know."

They remained silent for a while, relaxing in each other's
company, filled with their own thoughts, as the band played
yet another number.  Finally, their silence was broken when
the band took a break and Vachon joined them.

"Hello Nick, Tracy," he said smoothly.  The same waitress
brought him a glass of what Tracy knew was blood.  She eyed
it nervously, hoping that he and Nick wouldn't get mixed up
and drink from each other's glasses.  Poor Nick, she
worried.  It would really be a shock.

"What's happening," the Spaniard asked casually.

"Nick's playing twenty questions," Tracy replied.  "Nick,
why did you ask Vachon to watch over me.  I can take care of
myself, you know."

Nick glared at Vachon.  Tracy watched, curiously, as her
vampire squirmed in his chair.  Vachon was afraid of Nick?
But why?  He was a vampire!  He could break Nick in two with
one hand and drain him dry before breakfast!  But then,
maybe it was Nick's dad he was afraid of.  LaCroix must know
about vampires then, and he must have a lot of power.

"Sorry, Nick," Vachon muttered.  "But she asked me to keep
an eye on you, protect you, and I just sort of let it drop.
She caught me by surprise, is all."

Nick laughed a loud, spontaneous laugh.  Some of the Raven's
customers turned to stare at him.  Nick seemed oblivious to
their curiosity.  "Tracy," he said, still laughing.  "I can
take care of myself, too."

"Yeah, well last night I didn't believe you could.  You were
dangerous.  I thought you were going to hurt that scum, Roy
Benson.  And everybody needs help once in a while.  Even
that fierce, formidable pillar of strength you call "father"
but never dad.  I bet even he needs help from time to time."

Nick sobered.  "I'm sorry about last night, Tracy.  Sorry I
frightened you."

"Is it over now?  Are you better about it?"

Nick nodded, glancing across the bar to where his master
stood.  Their eyes met and a thought passed between them.
Nick smiled.  Tracy noticed, caught the sense of connection
between these two, very different people.

"So, Nick.  How do you know Vachon?" Tracy grinned
devilishly.  This game was fun.  Although paybacks were
hell, she was going to play this to the end.

Vachon blanched.  He gulped the rest of his glass and
signaled for the waitress again.  Nick was relaxed.  The
wine was definitely having an effect.

"I met Vachon about the same time you did, Trace.  Right
after Schanke's plane went down.  And, he's helped me from
time to time."

She smacked Vachon playfully.  "And I thought you were my
informant!"

Vachon looked desperately around the Raven.  It was getting
very late.  Most of the mortals had gone home.  Soon LaCroix
would be closing the bar.  He saw a familiar face and waved
her over with a sense of panic.

Nick glanced up and saw Urs approach.  He jumped to his
feet, gallantly pulled a chair out for her.  Tracy realized
at once that this was Nick's new sweetheart.

Urs sat down shyly.  "Hello," she whispered, with a soft,
husky voice.

"Urs, you know everyone, right?" Vachon babbled.

Tracy smiled at her.  Urs was exotic looking.  Her short
blonde hair curled around a delicate, fragile face.  Her
complexion, though pale, was darker than Nick's.  Her large
eyes reminded Tracy of a doe caught in the headlights of a
speeding vehicle.  Wide, timid, trusting, frightened eyes.
Vulnerable.

Nick's hand covered Urs's, and he gazed at her with
devotion.  Tracy wondered if work would ever be the same,
now that she'd seen what must be the real Nick Knight.
She'd been leaning on him a little... trusting in his years
of experience.  But now she saw that he was human, too, with
needs, desires, and pains of his own.  She felt a strange
need to protect him from the dangers of the night.  And
something about Urs bothered her.  She glanced from Urs to
Vachon and back.  There was something there.  Was Urs a
vampire, too?  Nick hadn't given details, but she had
assumed that he'd been intimate with her.  Could vampires
and mortals be anything more than just friends?  She laid a
hand on Vachon's leg under the table and trailed her fingers
up along his inner thigh.  Vachon jumped, nearly spilling
his "wine".

"Tracy, I'd better get back with the band.  Catch you
later."  He nearly flew from the table.
Nick and Urs gazed at each other for many moments.  Tracy
was starting to feel like an intruder.  It was pretty late.
Maybe she should just call it a night.  But she felt as
though something was about to happen.  All her detective
instincts were running at full speed.  She saw things with a
clarity she'd seldom noticed before and was not ready to
walk away.

"Tracy, any more questions now, or will you excuse us?" Nick
asked, not taking his eyes off Urs.

"I'm still thinking.  You go ahead."

Nick stood, taking Urs's hand in his.  "Would you like to
dance?"


End, part 5.


The Last Dance, 06/06
by Lorelei Sieja


"Hey, guys, how about something slow and romantic," Vachon
said to his band, when he saw Nick lead Urs onto the floor.
They complied, although loud rock was more their style.
Many eyes watched as Nick held his dance partner and twirled
her around.  They moved together gracefully, as though they
had been dancing together for ages.  The crowd thinned, as
curious vampires held back to wait and to watch this
peculiar favorite son of the bar owner.  Nick seldom
fraternized among them.

When the dance ended, LaCroix held up his hands to gain
attention.  The Raven fell silent, expectant.  "My children,
gentle patrons," he began, his low voice compelling and
powerful.  "The club is officially closed.  Those of you who
need to depart may do so.  But I invite all of you to stay
the day and celebrate with me."  Tracy saw the bar owner
look directly at her.  He was inviting her to remain!

The Spaniard was grinning broadly, but made no move to
leave.  That this was unusual, she had no doubt.  Did the
bar owner truly know what his invitation meant?  Was he
prepared to give refuge to vampires until sunset?  Vachon
was not concerned, so apparently Tracy had been correct.
LaCroix knew about vampires, too.

Moments later, the bar owner bolted the front door and
turned off the "OPEN" sign.  The waitresses brought around
more drinks, then took off their aprons and joined the
impromptu party.  Tracy wondered briefly if she and Nick and
his dad were the only mortals in the building.  But she
didn't feel afraid.  LaCroix smiled at her.  He knew, and he
knew she knew, and he was telling her he would protect her.
Tracy got all that from his glance.  Nick's dad was
definitely a compelling creature.

The band moved into another slow dance.  Nick and Urs
remained on the dance floor, moving as one.  Tracy watched
their seductive dance, at once aroused by it and filled with
a sense of peace for Nick.  Whatever inner turmoil had
driven him last night was no longer an issue.

More couples dropped out of the dance, taking their
beverages to various tables and dark corners.  Tracy saw
them bury their faces in one another's necks.  She felt too
warm herself and wished again that there could be something
more between her and Vachon.

The band played older numbers now.  Love songs from decades
past.  None of the vampire clientele seemed to mind.  But
then, if they had all lived for centuries, like Vachon, then
the older music might be familiar as well.  Nick and Urs
continued to dance, seemingly unaware of their
surroundings.

The band put down their electronic instruments and turned
off the massive amplifiers.  Tracy stared as older
instruments were withdrawn from their cases and the music
continued.  Vachon held a folk guitar, another band member
played a mandolin.  A violin and another guitar joined
them.  Now they were playing nineteenth century love songs
from around the world.  Still, the vampires enjoyed the
music, and Nick and Urs continued to dance.  LaCroix filled
two glasses from the same bottle, and passed them to Nick
and Urs without interrupting them.  They drained the glasses
and resumed the dance.  So, maybe Urs wasn't a vampire,
Tracy thought, confused.  The night was taking on a surreal
quality.

LaCroix moved gracefully to the dark corner and joined Tracy
at her table.  "May I?" he asked, before sitting.

Tracy nodded.  She suspected people didn't often tell him
no.

He sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaned back
in his chair, the proud owner and contented parent.  Tracy
eyed him carefully.  She'd never been this close to him
before, not even at the precinct.  He was tall- even a
little taller than Nick.  His complexion was more pale.  One
large hand rested on the table's surface, an exquisite ruby
ring graced the smallest finger.  His grooming was
impeccable.  Tracy held her breath.  He was beautiful.  He
was too old and not her type.  Yet, if it wasn't for Vachon,
she would definitely be interested.  She blushed at the wild
turn her thoughts were taking.

"Um, what are you celebrating," she asked with a nervous
laugh.

LaCroix smiled at her indulgently.  "Why, my son is happy
tonight.  And that is something to commemorate.  Don't you
agree?"

The music changed again.  They were holding odd stringed
instruments, the triangle-shaped balalaikas.  The music was
wild, heady romantic Russian gypsy music.  Now, only Nick
and Urs were dancing.  He held one hand around her waist,
and the other hand was held up in the air proudly.  Urs
mirrored his actions.  The steps were slow, rhythmic,
erotic.  His shirt was completely unbuttoned, but still
tucked into his pants.  The soft silk fabric parted,
revealing the smooth, hard planes of his chest.

 "Kalinka, kalinka, kalinka moya."  Some of the vampires
sang the Russian folksong as they drank more of their
beverage, acting very much like intoxicated mortals.  The
chorus repeated, gaining speed, faster and faster.  The
dancers kept the pace, their hips moved provocatively.
Tracy felt the deep pulsing of the bass, felt her own pulse
increase with it.  She saw Nick's eyes, blazing with
passion, glowing in the yellow lights of the dim Raven.
Then, as the song ended, Nick plunged his face into Urs's
throat, and she bit into him.  Clinging to one another...
they danced a different sort of dance, the passionate circle
of a vampire mating.  Tracy stared, speechless.
She glared up at LaCroix.  Nick was a vampire!  LaCroix was
a vampire, too!  And she was the only mortal in the
building.  "Why was I allowed to stay here!  What is this
all about," she demanded hotly.

LaCroix was unfazed.  "I told you, Miss Vetter, that my son
is happy tonight.  And nothing will be allowed to
interfere."

She stared at him.  "But what about me?"

"You, my dear, are too curious.  You pose a threat to his
safety and continued happiness."

"I won't tell anyone, if that is what you're worried about.
I've kept Vachon's secret for nearly a year now."

LaCroix gave a slight nod.  "Yes, my dear.  You have.  But
Vachon's life is endangered by allowing you to keep this
secret.  And now, Nicholas could be in danger too.  Not from
me.  This is simply our code, the rules of our community.
So, I will give you a choice.  You have two weeks.  You must
decide then, either join our little community, or allow me
take your memories and knowledge of us away.  You cannot
continue as you are now."

"That's it?  Who made you god?  I either get a hypnotic
lobotomy, or I die?"

"Our existence is not a death, my dear.  Consider it.  Never
to grow old, never know sickness.  You do care for the
Spaniard, do you not?"

Tracy gazed at Vachon.  He was so caught up in his music,
that he was heedless to everything around him, to Nick and
Urs making out on the dance floor, and to LaCroix
threatening her in the back corner.  He was so irresponsible
sometimes!  But she felt a need to join with him, which went
beyond simple lust.

"How would it happen?  Who should I ask to do it," she
asked, giving his absurd proposition some consideration.

"You may ask any here," LaCroix said generously.  "But you
should think beyond pleasure and satisfaction.  The one who
brings you across will be your master for eternity.  You
should chose someone more mature than yourself.  The
Spaniard does not meet that most basic principle.  His
fledglings are like orphans, lost and needy.  Nicholas
doesn't have much success, either.  But I would be willing
to do this, for my son's sake, as much as for yours.

"You?"  She stared at him.  She already had one dictatorial,
self-absorbed, possessive parent, did she really want
another?  But Nick did love this vampire.  She knew that.
"Would Nick and I be like brother and sister then?  Hell, he
treats me like his sister already."

LaCroix smiled at her.  There were golden flecks in his ice
blue eyes, the only sign of his own growing desire, for he
remained in full control of himself.  He was beautiful, she
realized.  But then she felt his presence in her mind and
she looked away quickly.  "Not now, LaCroix.  You said I
could have two weeks, remember?"

"Yes, of course," he purred.  "But you should know, I always
take care of my children.  I have a high standing in the
community, which extends to my progeny.  Still, you may
consider others.

Nick and Urs approached her table then.  Nick looked at them
with a puzzled expression.  Tracy noticed though, that
Nick's dominating, overprotective bullish attitude was
missing, as he reacted almost submissively towards the elder
vampire.  "Is everything all right?" he asked.

Tracy wanted to scream at him.  You should have told me, she
thought.  How dare you keep this secret from me!  All those
times I worried about you, and for nothing.  Were you
laughing at me, at my foolishness?  But her partner didn't
look like he was laughing.  He was truly concerned and still
ignorant of the volatile undercurrents.

"It's not your turn to ask the questions," Tracy said.  "I
still have a few.  But not now.  Only, I want to ask you,
will you save me the last dance?"

Nick stared at her.  She could still see the amber lights in
his eyes.  There was something so erotic about that, but she
would never want him for a master.  It would be impossible
to work with him then.  Maybe, if he did become her brother,
then life wouldn't really change that much.  She already
loved him like a brother.  She would wait the two weeks, but
her mind was made up.  She smiled at him.  "You and Urs look
so right together Nick.  I'm really happy for you."

Nick grinned boyishly.  Then he looked to his master.

"Everything is fine here, my son.  Go and enjoy yourself."

Nick brought Urs's hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.
"They're playing our song," he whispered.

Urs smiled.  "Nicky, every song they play is our song."

Nick led her again onto the dance floor.

"Okay, dad," Tracy said, enjoying the look of surprise on
LaCroix's porcelain features.  "I want to know more, before
I make this big change.  Tell me everything."



The end.

(A sequel to "The Last Dance" is in the works...)