Excerpt from "The Nature of the Beast -- Part II"

Natalie was beginning to hate the smell of plastic bags--they'd gone through most of their immediate supply last night, and she'd had to send for an extra carton from storage. Everywhere she turned, there were specimen and evidence bags, trolleys of them. First the bags had been sorted by suspect; now they were being sorted by content. Standing before one of the trolleys, she had a good mind to roll it out into the hall and push it down the stairs.

It wouldn't solve anything, of course. She'd only have to pick up all the bags again. But the possibility that it just make her feel a little bit better made it all the more tempting.

Then she turned and nearly collided with LaCroix.

"Aaah!" Clutching her hand to her chest and backing up a step, she glared at him. "I thought I told you not to dothat anymore!"

"My apologies." Dressed all in black, he was like a living shadow, a contrast to the blues and greens and whites that made up the colors of the lab. He held out a flowerfor her, a white lily.

"Accepted. Go back where you came from." She turned her back to him out of sheer bravado, her heart still pounding in her chest, her adrenaline pumping. Picking up a bag from one trolley and moving it to another, she added, "I've got a lot of work to do, so if you've come to 'chat,' maybe we can do it some other time?"

"Has Nicholas ever talked about...hunting?"

Natalie froze where she stood, her fingers gripping a bag that contained a pair of blood-spattered winter gloves. She looked up and found that LaCroix had moved to the other side of the trolley. An eyebrow arched in question, hewaited for her reply.

Somehow, she forced her fingers to unbend and set the bag on the trolley beside her--this pair of gloves had come back negative for human blood, which was yet another suspect off the hook for the night watchman's murder. The fact that they were narrowing the field should have pleased her.

It didn't. Her gaze drifted to LaCroix again and shesoftly answered, "No."

"I'm not surprised. We are, as you yourself have noted, predators. We hunt. We kill. The experience is a part of our existence, essential to our survival."

Natalie swallowed. "But...you don't 'hunt' anymore."

LaCroix's lips quirked into an expression of wan amusement. "Not as we once did, no." He shifted his weight, resting his hip along the side of the trolley, his gaze fixed on the door at the far end of the lab. "It's too dangerous to hunt openly. The lines of communication are growing tighter, strangling our community. People, even the vagrants and transients, are missed far more quickly. Surveillance cameras are everywhere. Movements are tracked through electronic commerce, information shared through commercial channels and law enforcement at the speed of light." He frowned and glanced at her again with hard, steel-gray eyes. "We don't 'hunt' anymore."

Some part of her found the topic fascinating, another part--if truth be told--found fascinating. Natalie picked up another evidence bag, then dropped it, giving up the pretense of working. She took a step around the trolley, so that she stood on the same side as LaCroix, facing him. "The technology that tracks and traps you has also provided alternate methods of feeding; bottled animal and human blood, preservatives, refrigeration, dehydration--"

"Substitutes, but barely adequate. We can subsist on them, survive on them, but not . They're pale, paltry imitations." He met her gaze, then looked away again. "Nicholas has tried to explain to you about the blood? The taste, the memories?"

It was Natalie's turn to look away. The time in the lab, when Nick had spoken about drinking blood, what the fresh blood contained--his voice had been honest and yet compelling, passionate, his description so stirring it hadalmost been...erotic.

"Ah," said LaCroix slowly, drawing out the expression in a whisper of sound. "I see that he has."

He was beside her, moving between the spacing of her heartbeats, his hand on her shoulder, the light touch of his breath on her neck. "Freshly-killed blood enlivens us, brings us thoughts, impulses, memories. The hunt invigorates us, and the blood, the taint of terror within it, completes us. It drives us, fulfills us. It makes us whole. It makes eternity bearable."

Suddenly, the spell seemed to be broken. Realizing that LaCroix was so close to her, Natalie broke easily from his hold and stepped away, putting the weight of the trolleybetween them again.

LaCroix gave no indication that he'd noticed her movement. He met her eyes across the length of the trolley. "Your substitutes do make our existence any more bearable. Nor do they satisfy the instincts and skills inherent within us. We're made to function as predators, predators...there's nothing to replace that instinct, nothing to dampen the internal imperative to hunt and feed at will. We adapted, but not completely." He folded his arms and smiled sharply. "I doubt we evershall."

"Nick doesn't hunt--"

"Nor does he . He survives, yes. He , but only exists. Imagine what your world would be like if drained of color, of taste, of sound. is the world in which Nicholas exists--not an exact simile perhaps, but close enough to the experience of our kind." LaCroix made a dismissive gesture with a hand. "Over time, a vampire may learn to feed without killing, but it requires concentration, discipline...neither of which Nicholas has ever completely mastered. He refuses to kill and refuses to drink human blood--abiding some misguided remnants of a mortal conscience he claims to possess."

"Nick's...different," said Natalie, after a pause. "I understand that. It can't be easy for him to give up theblood."

"It isn't," agreed LaCroix. "Most of our kind are not that dedicated to self-sacrifice. They sustain themselves on bottled mortal blood, a pastel palette at best. If they must enliven themselves, the Code dictates that hunting must be infrequent and under such circumstances that no living mortal may discover our existence."

Natalie found herself swallowing again. Nick's comment about looking for drained bodies and fang marks was suddenly beginning to make sense. "Someone's started hunting on aregular basis?"

"A bright pupil." LaCroix gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. "A pity I didn't encounter you before Nicholas. You would have been an admirable addition to ourfamily."

"Let's just accept that I have no intention of becoming blood relation and cut to the chase, okay?"

"What an excellent euphemism. All right, doctor--the 'chase,' as you put it, is that a young and highly charismatic vampire has decided that it's time we were allowed to hunt freely." Folding his arms again, LaCroix turned away, his lips pursed in annoyance. "However much I may tend to agree with certain points of his argument, discretion is currently the most intelligent form of valor. We survive unmolested because mortals, present company excepted, cannot bring themselves to believe that we exist. If that equation changes, there will be wholesale slaughter on both sides before this thing ends." "What's his name?"

Nick wouldn't have answered the question--he would have bolted for the door and left her in the dark, concerned for her 'safety.' She didn't really the information; she just wanted to see if LaCroix would give it to her.

Not that LaCroix wouldn't have his own reasons for not telling her. LaCroix seemed to have reasons for everythinghe did.

She was only slightly surprised when he smiled andsaid, "Ian Sandler."

The name wasn't in the least familiar. Natalie shook her head. "It means nothing to me."

"It should mean than nothing to either of us. He's an aberration, an accident, a bully with a glib tongue and a head filled with ideas that have never been tempered into practical application by common sense. If he had any at all, he'd realize there's far more challenge in obeying the Code--there's an art to hunting and not getting caught." LaCroix shook his head, as if not understanding how such a thing could have happened. "If left to his own devices, Sandler will have blood flowing in the streets. By the time the Enforcers attend to the matter, their cure will most certainly be worse than the disease." "Somebody has to stop him."

"That my initial intention. Unfortunately, Nicholas believes that the perfect choice." LaCroix held out his hand and began to tick off his reasons by bending his fingers as he spoke. "He lives within the mortal world and pretends to be a mortal, he subsists on a diet of animal blood, he refuses to kill, he preaches cooperation with mortals, and he has a certain...fascination--" he at least had the good grace to smile, "--with a select few. Sandler has made inquiries about Nicholas--his past, his habits and predilections. He's made a point of setting up Nicholas as his adversary before thevampire community."

"Nick doesn't care about that."

"He should. Unless you plan on 'curing' him by tomorrow evening?" When she refused to look away, LaCroix smiled again. "He is a vampire, Dr. Lambert. Despite your worst efforts to the contrary, he's going to continue to be a vampire for a very long time. Think of how difficult his future existence will be if he's treated with disdain as an outcast, a traitor, lower than a carouche, not even worthy of pity. Then there's that wonderfully Middle- Aged sense of honor that he wears like rusty armor, hopelessly tarnished, useless but too dear to discard. This isn't to say that I think Nicholas is wrong in choosing to fight Sandler--he has the benefit of age, experience, and training as a fighter. If Nicholas were in prime condition, Sandler would have no chance against him."

"But he's not in prime condition."

"He drinks the blood of ," said LaCroix, his voice dripping with disdain. "He's weak. Even if Sandler managed to enrage him to his fullest fury, I doubt Nicholas could hold his own, unless..."

The word hung on the air for several seconds. LaCroix met her eyes, and Natalie felt a shiver run through her. "Unless...?" she echoed softly.

"Nicholas drinks human blood. It doesn't have to be fresh," LaCroix added quickly, "but the fresher, the better. Only human blood will give him the strength he'll need to defeat Sandler. And he does need to Sandler, because there won't be any mercy given from that quarter. A stalemate will not be acceptable. If Nicholas isn't strong enough to win, he'll be beaten, humiliated...and then"

"Nick knows this?"

"I've told him."

Natalie allowed herself a small smile. "He won'tlisten to you."

"When has he ever?" As LaCroix mirrored her smile and focused his attention on her, she found herself shivering.

"But he will listen to my dear Dr. Lambert."

Natalie turned her back to him and clasped her hands together tightly. "Don't be too sure about that. Things haven't exactly been smooth sailing between us, lately."

"If he won't listen, you'll have to him listen. The consequence of failure is...too drastic for either of usto contemplate."

She wondered if he was listening to her heartbeat, which felt like a pile driver in her chest. No matter what had happened between them, she still hoped to help fulfill Nick's dream of bringing him back across...if that's what hewanted.

Lately, she hadn't been so sure. He'd vowed to her that he wasn't going to touch human blood again, but since that night she'd seen him and known almost instantly by the color in his cheeks, the swagger in his step, the in him--LaCroix must be right about the blood, because she could see the very unsubtle changes in Nick when he fell offthe wagon.

Human blood might not be the sole component of his vampiric nature, but it was a substantial part of the puzzle. It was also an addictive drug, a comfort food, a cause of guilt--so much more than simple sustenance. He survive on animal blood; he'd proven that.

But LaCroix seemed convinced Nick couldn't defeat Ian Sandler unless he drank human blood.

"I'll try," she whispered, half to herself.

LaCroix was suddenly beside her again, his hand on her arm, his eyes hard and angry. "You ."

"I said I'll !" Breaking out of his grasp, Natalie glared at him. "I won't lie to you. We both know what Nick can be like. I'll ...but I can't promiseanything."

"Then let's hope your 'trying' will be enough." LaCroix's glare softened and he stepped back. "I'll take my leave--as you said, you have your work cut out for you."

With almost military precision, he turned and headed for the door. Natalie's heart was still beating a mile a minute, and her mouth was dry. Taking a deep breath, shecalled, "Would you...?"

LaCroix took his time, turning slowly on his heel."Would I...?" he asked.

"Would you mind answering a question?"

"That would depend on the question." He folded his arms, his smile almost indulgent. "Ask."

It was his arrogance that annoyed her, as if he were giving her a gift by answering a simple question--

Maybe he was.

"Do you... hunt?" she asked.

LaCroix's smile never wavered.

And then he was gone.

Natalie knew differently. She'd run samples, made test comparisons, reviewed the forensics reports...and she'd worried. When Nick had called from the loft, she'd been terrified and angry, and maybe even surprised. He'd actually to call and tell her that he was okay and that disaster had been averted.

That's why she was smiling when she nearly collidedwith LaCroix.

Her immediate apology for her clumsiness never even made it past the automatic response stage. Natalie took a step back and stared at him, her smile fading. LaCroix was absolutely the thing she wanted to deal with rightnow.

Or...maybe not.

Not a hair out of place, LaCroix smiled indulgently. "Dr. Lambert. Now what could it be that has you so preoccupied on such a glorious evening?"

"Nick called me." Her smile sneaked back into place, although she was disappointed that the news didn't elicit even a glimmer of annoyance from LaCroix. "He won. He won the blood. You lost this round."

"It's hardly a ," said LaCroix. He leaned back against the railing of the steps leading into the precinct, staring off into the distance, with a smile that could only be described as self-satisfied. "I still have hopes that Nicholas can learn to accept his true nature. The Community is now free of the charismatic Mr. Sandler and his radical philosophy. And you...."

Natalie folded her arms and met LaCroix's amused gaze defiantly. "What about ?"

"Only that you and Nicholas seem to be of a like mind again." Sobering, LaCroix suddenly seemed sincere. "Whatever may have been between us in the past, you should understand that I have no objection to the thought of you and Nicholas becoming...closer. That's something I should very like to see happen."

For some reason, LaCroix's words sent a chill through her. She knew full well that LaCroix's actions always served his own purposes; Nick's warning not to trust LaCroix added a sinister cast to the comment. It wasn't a threat.Not really.

Was it?

Clearing her throat, Natalie forced herself to meet his gaze again--the amusement was back. He knew he'd rattledher. "I don't agree."

"You don't--?"

"About Nick having to accept what he is," she explained, when LaCroix raised an eyebrow in consternation. "At least, not the killing. It's the killer that won't lethim find peace."

"Ah, but that's because he treats that part of his nature as alien, as something he can excise with good works and pleasant thoughts, isn't that so?" His smile gained a bitter edge. "The killer is as much a part of Nicholas' mortal self as it is part of his vampire self. Everyone, vampire mortal alike--must come to terms with that part of their nature to attain a sense of peace. It must be accepted, understood, controlled--" LaCroix touched the tip of her chin with his finger, "--even...cherished. You understand that, don't you Dr. Lambert? You've had good cause to contemplate the nature of the killer within, in therecent past."

His eyes were hypnotic, his words intoxicating...and truthful. Natalie shivered and stared, wondering what other truths LaCroix's words might hold. Then, shaking herselffree, she looked away.

She couldn't trust him. She she couldn't trust him, and yet there was so much he could tell her about what had happened to her, what was to her....

It took a moment before she could look at him again, and she found LaCroix watching her, studying her expression. He glanced up at the sky, as if he'd found what he was looking for. "It's a beautiful night for hunting, don't youagree?"

She followed his gaze up to the sky. It was a clear night, with plenty of stars visible despite the city lights. Turning her head, she opened her mouth to ask LaCroix a question...but he was gone.

With a weary sigh, Natalie grabbed the handrail and headed up the steps into the precinct. She wondered if her life had ever made sense before she'd discovered the existence of vampires. And then she wondered if her life would ever make sense again if, for some reason, she ever chose to walk away from that discovery.

Her enthusiasm, however, was building despite her reservations. Glancing up at the dark sky through the windshield, she actually found herself agreeing withLaCroix.

It a beautiful night.