Date: Sun, 11 Jul 1999 18:23:51 EDT From: KhepriKa@AOL.COM Subject: XOVER: Black Flame [01/12] To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU NOTES: This is a Forever Knight/Milennium crossover. I have absolutely no idea where this story came from, and I'm content not to ask . I wrote this sometime in January, all in one day, but I never got around to posting it. Here goes! For those of you who have no idea what "Milennium" is about, that's perfectly okay. Hopefully, you wouldn't need to know. In fact, it just might be better if you've never seen an episode of "Milennium" in your life, but it's just as good if you have. My interpretation of the characters used in "Milennium" are affected by my not following the show in the past two seasons. If you want information on the show, it's characters and situations as appear in this story, just ask me. I haven't posted much on this list, but I have written before. This is one of my more darker peices. Beware of angst and depression ahead. DISCLAIMERS: I don't own ANY of the characters. I'm just borrowing them without permission for my own amusement and will return them elatively in the condition I found them. Any similarity to any persons or fan fiction is purely coincidental. Don't sue, you won't get any money. I'm broke. SPOILERS: This takes place after that evil Last Knight episode for the FK universe. It contains references for AtA and NiQ, amongst countless others. For Milennium, I suppose it would take place anytime before this season. The first season is as good as any other. Spoilers for Milennium are slim to none. Hopefully, it's all explained. If you have more questions, feel free to email me at: RATING: PG for semi-graphic depiction of a crime scene and minimal violence. There are one or two nasty words along the way, but nothing that bad. ARCHIVING: Permission to archive at Mel's site. Anyone else who's interested, please ask first. SPECIAL THANKS to Joan M. for reading over this for me. Don't blame her, all the insanity within is my fault. By the way, I wouldn't EVER suggest asking a person who is not familiar with fan fiction, let alone Forever Knight, to edit their works. I'm pretty sure Joan thinks I've gone nuts. Well, I think that about covers it. Feedback is extremely welcome at: Kheprika@aol.com --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- Black Flame Part One By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~How is it with this love I see your world and not you?~ ~ Rumi A lonely voice is broadcast over the radio waves in Seattle: "How long is a month really? Is it just a collection of days and weeks, a mere pinch of time, the time it takes for the pale moon to complete one rotation in it's celestial orbit? A month has never seemed so long, never filled with so many broken bonds, severed strings, and lost lives. "How much does a month detract from one's perspectives? How can it, in the blink of an eye, derail the paths of so many? "And who is to blame for the wake of misery that follows?" ________________ The loft was swathed in darkness. A mere glimmer shone from the flame of a single candle resting on the glass coffee table beside the empty bottle that once held rather tasteless human blood. Nicholas really didn't require the thin sphere of light it cast, but it was almost symbolic of the tiny flicker that remained of his burning passion for life, his hope, his.... love. For the first time in his life, he was miserable and alone. Never before had he been truly alone, nor had he felt such emptiness. The black void that throbbed in his chest was all that occupied his thoughts. In retrospect, one of his vampiric family or even one of is mortal companions had always been near in times of trouble. The loneliness he thought he once felt in his destructive quest for mortality was a lone tear drop in the flood of desolate now felt. A solitary creature by nature, Nicholas had always toyed with the concept of living a decade or two completely out of the mortal and vampiric world. Circumstances had always prevented it, but now that he truly lived this nothingness, in true loneliness, he longed once again for the choice between worlds. Not to say that he withdrew completely from society. Oh, no. He still went through the motions of daily life, a gesture to the everything he once had. Although he was on a 'sabbatical' from work, he struggled every day to keep the loft as spotless as it once was, to keep his body clean and his stock of nourishment well-supplied. And not *everyone* was gone, but the others didn't mean as much to him as they once did, not to mention that when he looked in the eyes of his partner or his Captain, all he saw was pity. No, the loneliness he could tolerate, but the gazes of pity would overwhelm him. It had started soon after the funeral... The funeral. No, the day of Natalie's funeral was most certainly the darkest of his life. It didn't even compare with the night he was brought across. He almost didn't attend, using the sunlight as his excuse, but Myra Schanke cajoled the undertaker to move the service until after dusk. Good intentions indeed. Nicholas had watched them load the expensive mahogany casket from the truck and place it gently next to the black granite tombstone. The priest had said a few prayers for the departed and reminded the teary-eyed assembled crowd that the young woman whose life was ruthlessly cut short before it's time must be happier where she was than she ever could have been on earth. No matter how hard he tried, Nicholas couldn't convince himself of this. He knew better. There was so much he could have offered her, so much he should have said. And now it was too late. Too late: the story of his life. The various religious objects in the treeless cemetery only heightened his misery. Yet he could at least give Nat a beautiful funeral, even if she could no longer see the rows upon rows of white lilies or feel the silk-lined casket or hear the quiet prayers of the mourners. He even had her tombstone specially carved. The inscription read: 'Natalie Lambert Beloved Forever.' He certainly had forever to remember the eve of her death and the events leading up to it. And who was to blame? He was, of course. Yes, it was the same old tune. But he was so tired of it now. The song of his guilt was so overplayed that the notes seemed halfhearted now, the effort to continue to punish himself for the mistakes of the past was now too much to hold on to. He was so tired of the guilt and the weight of centuries upon his back. But he wouldn't give it up, not yet. What would he have left without his guilt? At first he had blamed Divia's untimely revival into the family to be the cause of Natalie's death, at least for the emotions and atmosphere that it projected. Then, predictably, he'd blamed LaCroix, and finally himself. Now a full month after Nick begged LaCroix to kill him, he realized that all the blame in the world wouldn't bring her back. It wouldn't ever erase all the mistakes he'd made. It couldn't even come close. At least he wasn't suicidal... anymore. He'd gotten over that once LaCroix left Toronto. Left. He'd just *left*. Without a word, without a farewell, not even a thought of empathy or well-wishes... Of course, wasn't it always better that way? Strange now to be on the receiving end of good intentions. Or was it even that? What was the true reason LaCroix left? Was he hurt? Angry? Afraid? All of the above? What could have caused his sire to abandon him like this when Nick needed him most? What Nick most feared was that LaCroix had given up, had stopped caring for his favorite child. Because if LaCroix had given up, Nicholas would have nothing left to life for. Nick never knew how much his sire meant to him until LaCroix was truly out of his life. But isn't that what he said he'd wanted? He was so confused, so alone, so tired of being sane. Even the frail mental thread he maintained with Janette and LaCroix had been strangely silent in the wake of disaster. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- End Part One Continued in Part Two Comments, questions, minor complaints and white roses are warmly accepted at: I crave feedback! Disclaimers in Part 01. Warning: graphic depiction of a crime scene ahead. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- Black Flame Part Two By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~In disciplined silence, it opens~ ~ Rumi Nick's thoughtfulness was washed away at the sound of the ringing telephone. At first he didn't recognize the intrusive sound, he was so wound up in his own thoughts. It took him a moment to realize that the annoying bell meant he should lift the receiver. This he did, if not reluctantly. He had hoped not to be disturbed. He needed to think, not to talk. "Nick Knight," he greeted casually, without trace of his former desolation. "Hey, Nick, it's Tracy. I'd hate to disturb you on your vaca-- er, sabbatical, but it's been a month, and well... The Captain could really use you down here. Hell, *I* could really use some help down here." Tracy's voice was thin and frail, her normally perky and optimistic voice was overshadowed with stress. "It's all right, Trace," Nick said reassuringly, with comfort he certainly did not want to give right then. "I think a month is more than enough time." What a lie. Even after a single month, he felt as if the wounds that tore at his heart would never heal. Yet he knew instinctively that he needed to do *something* rather than sulk all day, and so he graciously offered to help. "What seems to be the problem?" he inquired. Relieved, Tracy went into the details of the newest homicide. "It's really bizarre, I mean... This guy was totally ripped to shreds, and, well... there was a lot of.... Um... blood loss. Not like there's anything strange about that," Tracy rushed nervously. "I mean, it's fairly common in violent crimes like this. But the problem is, no one can seem to locate the missing blood." Nick's thoughts mirrored the nervousness in Tracy's voice. It seemed obvious from the evidence so far that one of his own kind was responsible, but who possibly could have caused this? The vampire community was almost nonexistent at this point. After LaCroix left, the Raven, which was pretty much the sole source of entertainment for the Toronto community, was closed down and refurnished into a grocer's market. Although he had been too wrapped up in himself to thoroughly check or even feign interest at the rumors, most of the younger vampires seemed to have dispersed in search of a safer haven, while the older vampires were scared off by the virus scare and Divia's revenge. That meant there was someone new in town... "Nick? Hello? Are you there? Nick? NICK!" Tracy's sharp cry finally cut through, and Nick replied quietly, "Yes, I'm still here. I was just thinking." "Well, listen up, 'cause that's not all. This investigator guy is up here from Seattle. He's with the FBI or something like that. The papers weren't all that clear, but it seems he was sent here to check out this murder. He thinks there might be some connection between this murder, last month's murders, and those that occurred in his city. Nick, he thinks it's the same guy," Tracy finished nervously. Nick understood perfectly what she was saying. He had temporarily allowed her to retain all of her memories of the shooting since she was a resistor anyway and he hadn't quite figured out what to do with her. LaCroix's hypnotic suggestions after Vachon died didn't stick for long, and the shooting incident really didn't help. She understood perfectly who and what he was and that Natalie really didn't die of some strange genetic disorder. And although she was smart enough not to ask too many questions, she knew the basics about Divia and her effect on LaCroix's immediate family. Clearly Tracy wasn't able to speak freely, so she was covertly attempting to convey her fears that Divia was alive and well in Seattle. "I assure you, Tracy, I am quite certain that it would be impossible for it to be the same murderer as last month's serial murders. After all, how many murders do you think happen every month over the globe with the same MO? Nevertheless, I think we can show this gentleman some hospitality, don't you?" "Of course," Tracy responded quickly. She knew enough not to tell the investigator too much information about 'last month's serial murders', but she was more than relieved to find out the little Roman brat wasn't coming back for more. "Good. I'll be down there soon. 'Bye." "'Bye." Nick hung up the receiver and sighed deeply. The flame of the candle that rested before him on the coffee table flickered slightly but soon steadied and burned brightly. , Nick thought resignedly. He could hopefully appear convincingly normal for a few hours. Or at least mortal. Nick hesitated before climbing the stairs to the second level and finally conceded to head for the refrigerator first. Even though he'd had a full bottle of human blood earlier, he couldn't afford to loose composure in the middle of a messy, gruesome crime scene, especially with an outsider watching. As he upended the labeled green bottle and sucked greedily on the sweet nectar, Nick reflected upon how much blood he had been drinking lately. , he decided upon immediate calculation. With that rather final thought, Nick tossed the bottle and cork into the trash can, flew upstairs for a quick shower, and was out the door within the span of five minutes. Vampirism certainly had it's advantages. For one, Nick was hardly ever late for work. ________ 11:00 PM ________ Bright flashing lights and a horde of curious bystanders marked the carnival of a crime scene at the southern tip of the park. Nick parked his green Caddy far enough away so as not to be photographed by the small wolfpack of journalists that hovered hungrily around the periphery marked by police tape. He paused before opening the door, taking a deep, cleansing breath and ascertaining that the Beast was momentarily pacified before opening the door and heading into the middle of the deliciously tempting mortal crowd. As he neared the crime scene, he passed a young cop fresh out of the academy spewing his dinner onto the lawn. , Nick thought grimly, gathering himself for the mental and physical assault a particularly brutal crime scene would be sure to bring with it. He didn't have long to wait. Just inside of the yellow band of police tape, a light blue morgue sheet humanely covered the crumpled remains of what must have been a person. He approached Tracy who was conversing quietly with Captain Reese before checking up on the exact damage inflicting on the corpse. "Hey, Cap. What do we have here?" he greeted casually. "Nick! I'm glad you finally decided to crawl out of that dark hole you call an apartment!" Reese greeted enthusiastically, grasping Nick's palm and pulling the homicide detective into a great big bear hug. Nick assumed Reese's sudden show of emotion was due to the fact that most of the police force didn't believe he'd ever recover from Natalie's death. He'd heard that Reese was particularly upset about loosing his prized detective, but Nick was thoroughly embarrassed by Reese's actions. Not quite sure what to say, he responded, "Yeah, well, I can't say I haven't been well occupied, but it feels good to be back to work." He was lying, of course. Actually, the assault on his physiology at the proximity to the tasty treat was almost overwhelming. Already he was struggling, and he hadn't even *seen* the body yet. The noxious smell, however, was quite noticeable. Tracy saved him by welcoming Nick back with a friendly handshake and quickly filled him in on the discovery of the body. "It seems a couple taking a stroll after dinner noticed the distinct smell and bravely decided to investigate. They certainly got a surprise. I don't know what Larry is going to say, but it certainly smells like the body's been around for at least 36 hours. Needless to say, both turned a little green around the gills. I think they'll be having nightmares for a while," she finished without humor. She knew what it felt like to have to deal with dead bodies, and she didn't envy them. "So, you want to go have a look?" "You haven't started the fun without me?" Nick asked innocently. Tracy shot him a deadly look and strode off in the direction of the body. Nick shrugged at Reese and obediently followed. Larry, the new Coroner, was heavily involved in his work and didn't seem to notice the two detectives until Nick made a motion to lift the sheet. Larry swatted Nick's hand away before any damage was done and snapped at the intrusion without looking up. "Don't touch that! Do you think all those bystanders want to see this?" Nick was somewhat taken aback by the outburst, but he patiently waited until Larry finished the notations on the clipboard he carried around like a shield against the atrocities the young man was forced to examine daily. When Larry finally stood and recognized Nick, a look of pity and sympathy filled his eyes. "Oh, Nick, it's you! Welcome back! I'm sorry, I.... I didn't know it was you. Go ahead and take a look," he added hesitantly while stepping aside for the two detectives. Nick was really starting to hate that look, but he lifted the sheet and started examining the body anyway. It seemed to be a male Caucasian, but all identifications of gender seemed to be unidentifiable. Age and height were indiscernible since the head of the corpse lay nearly at his chest and huge chunks of flesh were missing. It seemed someone tried to rip it right off his shoulders. Various gashes adorned the rest of his body, accompanied by gaping holes in his wrists. Nick remained expressionless while the Beast rose out of it's slumber, but he was able to control the urge to partake of the convenient snack before him. Larry narrated as the detectives were examining the body. "As you can see, the body is quite mangled. The puncture marks on the wrists remain to be explained, although I've seen similar marks in other cases recently. I'll have more for you later at the morgue." When he got no confirmation from the two detectives, he added hesitantly, "Do you think this could be the same guy?" "That's what we're here to find out," Nick replied shortly. Then, more gently, he began taking control of the situation, his detective mode fully in gear. "Look at these gash marks along the arms and torso. They seem to be made by claws," he said, gesturing respectively to deep, ragged slits that cut almost three inches into the flesh. "And these puncture holes are almost certainly the canines of an animal bite. Perhaps the victim was trying to defend himself by putting his hands in front of his face. Do you think this could be a wild animal attack?" Instead of Larry's familiar droll, Nick heard a deep, scratchy voice from behind him respond. "I can assure you, Mr. Knight. This was most certainly *not* an animal attack." --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- End Part Two Continued in Part Three Comments, questions, minor complaints and white roses are warmly accepted at: --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- Disclaimers in Part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- Black Flame Part Three By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~These pains that you feel are messengers. Listen to them~ ~Rumi Nick turned to address the owner of that slow, thick voice. He was met eye-to-eye with a slim, black-haired man dressed casually in black jeans and a dark leather jacket. The man wasn't strikingly handsome or particularly noticeable, except for his eyes that seemed to be able to reach right into one's thoughts and soul. Yet like Nick's, they carried a tremendous weight on them. "And you are?" Nick finally asked, his voice tinged with annoyance at his loss of control of the situation. "Frank Black," the stranger responded. Frank smiled and offered his palm in greeting. Nick hesitating before grasping it, but since there seemed to be no other option, he quickly pressed his palm into Frank's, fervently hoping he withdrew it before the stranger noticed Nick's abnormally low temperature. If Frank noticed, he showed no sign. His eyes remained steady, his grip firm, and his smile strangely wide for such a gruesome murder scene. , Nick thought curiously. Probably incomparable to his own, but... "You said it wasn't an animal attack. Care to share your reasoning with the rest of us?" Nick asked expectantly, folding his arms and waiting for Frank to explain what any reasonably intelligent person could see. Tracy followed Nick's suit, staring expectantly at the outsider. She didn't want Nick's little wrap-up job to be untied any more than her partner did, but she was eager to hear more about this expert's theories on the crime. Frank, sensing a challenge, began quietly and methodically, as if explaining to a child. "Well, as you've pointed out these gashes, it does appear to have been caused by claws due to the bruising and trauma to the surrounding tissue. If it was a sharp knife, it would have been a clean cut." Nick nodded in affirmation and, without adding anything, allowed Frank to continue. "That simply means that the instrument wasn't sharp enough to cut evenly through the skin. It could have been something as dull as a butter knife and must have been caused by a great deal of force." Tracy winced in vicarious pain, and Frank, enthused by the reaction, continued. "If this was an animal kill, there would have been a whole mess of blood on and around the body. Other than the blood that remained in the gashes, the wounds are remarkably clean. No animal is this tidy. "The lack of blood indicates that the heart stopped before the murder occurred, before the man actually died. Either that or he was drained of blood when it happened, which seems unlikely." Nick relaxed minutely at this. At least this man wasn't leading where he thought he was leading. Frank continued, so intent on his explanation that he obviously didn't see Nick's relief. "It seems like you should be looking for a very violent sociopath who has the physical strength to inflict this kind of damage with a blunt instrument. I'll have more time to analyze it later, but this man must have had a history of violent crimes, possibly with past psychiatric therapy. He's probably between the ages of 18 and 35. He must be fairly young to have the physical and mental capability to do something like this. He would probably also have a record of juvenile delinquency, but good luck getting the Juvenile Records Department to cooperate." "Gee, that narrows it down," Tracy muttered sarcastically, eliciting a grin from Frank and an amused glance from Nick. "Anyway, how do you know it isn't a woman?" "Because," Frank answered, "most women don't have the physical capacity to inflict such a violent crime with a blunt instrument. It requires strength that even most men don't have." "Well, thank you for clarifying that, Mr. Black," Nick said, before Tracy could respond. "I was curious, what agency do you work for?" Nick inquired thoughtfully, glad that the turn of the investigation would take the focus away from the fact that there was no blood in the body, a fact it would seem that Mr. Black didn't note. Frank's visage darkened as he replied, "I work for an American consulting company called the Millennium Group. I doubt you've heard of them up here." Oh, indeed, Nick was quite familiar with the Millennium Group. He'd run into the covert association in its infancy, and it was most certainly not just an American consulting company. It had worldwide ties, mainly based in the Middle East. But it seemed that either Frank didn't know this, or he wasn't willing to offer the information. If it was the former, Nick wasn't about to rain on his parade. Instead, Nick carefully schooled his expression into curiosity and politely responded, "No, I'm afraid I haven't had the opportunity. What exactly is the Millennium Group?" "Everything," Frank responded. His answer was far too soft for mortal ears, but Nick caught every syllable. Again, since he wasn't supposed to know, he watched, amused, as Frank groped for a plausible definition of the Group. But just before Frank was about to recite his carefully fabricated answer, a young officer interrupted and asked for Frank to fill out some forms regarding department cooperation. , Frank thought caustically. _______ 2:15 AM _______ Nick and Tracy entered the morgue together the depressing decor immediately dampening the playful bantering they had been involved in earlier. They found Frank Black and Larry just beginning the autopsy "You weren't going to start all the fun without us, were you?" Tracy commented flatly, eliciting a grin from the three men. Nick merely nodded a greeting at the coroner and the investigator. Larry commenced the autopsy as the two detectives approached the examining table. But Nick already knew all the facts Larry was about to discover, including, predictably, the unexplained blood loss. So he tuned out Larry's monotone and examined Frank Black's heavily lined face from across the examining table. The man was an enigma. There was something ... off. Nicholas couldn't put a finger on it, but he had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was missing something. As Larry performed the autopsy, Frank's face remained blank and expressionless. The man could have been listening, but Nick had seen that look before. He was concentrating on something. Abruptly and without warning, Frank thrust his hand out to the body and grasped the wrist of the corpse, pressing his thumbs into the puncture marks. The action surprised Larry and Tracy, and the autopsy halted while Larry was explaining the cause of the gash marks on the victim's abdomen. Frank's fingers probed the area around the puncture marks, his features taut now and his concentration highly focused. Nick, instead of breaking up the unexplained contact, patiently waited for Frank's diagnosis. Only a few seconds after Frank had reached his hand out to the corpse, Nick received a painful mental jolt. It seemed to be an image, but it was hazy an unclear, as if he was seeing through another man's eyes. The contact was almost like that he received through a blood link, only more tangible. Utterly shocked and confused, Nick took a step back from the body, almost at the exact instant that Frank collapsed on the tile floor, unconscious --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- End Part Three Continued in Part Four Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in Part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.-- Black Flame Part Four By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you~ ~ Rumi Tracy threw Nick an astonished glance before she, followed immediately by Larry, rushed to pick Frank up off the ground. He was still unconscious. "Nick! Help me out here!" Tracy's voice cut through Nick's haze, jolting him from his shocked surprise. He had never felt anything like that, in all of his eight centuries. Most mental contact he received was from a member of the family, or, even more rare, from and older vampire. But this was ... this was filtered, distorted. He gazed stupidly at Frank Black, still crumpled like a rag doll on the floor, before going to help Tracy. As it turned out, his help was unnecessary, for just before he could reach the investigator, Frank revived. In and out just like an artificial light. The dazed man waved off assistance from Tracy and Larry, warily keeping his distance from the body as he slowly stood and preceded to shake his head, as if that futile action could clear his conscious. "Are you all right?" Frank's pallor clearly answered that question, so no one bothered to answer. Nick took one look at Frank and made his decision. He wasn't about to speculate on the strange phenomena he just experienced, and he needed to talk to this man alone. "Mr. Black, it does not seem that you are quite acclimated to the night shift. Perhaps I could give you a ride to your hotel." Nick and Frank shared a glance. The eye contact lasted only a moment, but it was understood by both parties. Nick knew what happened and was trying to save Frank the necessity of explanation. "A hotel!" Tracy exclaimed, exasperated. "Nick, this man needs medical attention! I mean, we should make sure that it's not serious!" "Yes, thank you, I would appreciate a ride. I didn't have time to rent a car, and I don't feel well enough to hail a cab." Frank pressed his hand to his head and preceded Nick out the door. "Nick!" Tracy called to Nick's back. "Nick! Now how am I supposed to get home?" ____________ Hotel Dynasty 3:00 AM ____________ Nick and Frank entered the hotel room, Frank proceding to unfasten his holster and pour himself a strong drink from the well-stocked bar while Nick closed and secured the strong wooden door. "Would you like a drink?" Frank inquired tiredly, gesturing to the bottle of scotch he held. Nick attempted not to look disgusted as he gently refused. "No, thank you." "Not a drinker?" Frank asked, amused, as he took a swift gulp from the glass. "I wouldn't say that," Nick replied, grinning at his own personal joke. "I have different tastes." At this point the conversation lulled. Neither man was quite sure what to say or how to ask the burning question each held in his mind. Nick decided to take the initiative and asked carefully, "How long have you been receiving these visions?" Frank glanced at Nick, somehow more surprised than he should have been. There was no reason for shock, of course, but to hear the words spoken so forthrightly unsettled the investigator somehow. "Awhile. It's a long story," he replied evasively. Nick could hear a twinge of pain and -- guilt? -- in that admission alone, but as much as it may pain Frank to talk about it, Nick needed to know the full truth. "I have time. Unless, of course, you'd rather speak tomorrow." Frank shook his head and sat down wearily. "No, I'd just as soon get it out now. I'd like to sleep tonight. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" "That's always a good place to start," Nick offered supportively. Frank didn't smile, but paused slightly before beginning his story. "I used to work for the FBI, long before I had ever heard about the Millennium Group. Basically, I was investigating a dangerous serial killer, and apparently he wasn't too happy about the whole deal. He decided to start following me around. Then he started following my wife, taking pictures, stalking her. He would send me the Polaroids in the mail, pictures of my wife alone in the car, opening the door to our house, or in a shadowed corner of a nearly vacant store. I couldn't believe how vulnerable she was, how easy it would be for this man to slaughter my wife simply because she was associated with me. "I became ... paranoid. *Very* paranoid. I tried to anticipate his every move, tried to stay one step ahead in case he might take out the implied threat against my wife. I became very good at it, as a matter of fact, but still the Polaroids would arrive in the mail, enclosed in a plain untraceable envelope without postage or fingerprints. "I'm not sure how or why, scientifically, but I began to *know* when he was around. My 'visions', as you so aptly termed them, developed somehow from my fear for the safety of my wife. "I caught the guy eventually. He was put behind bars, but the visions stayed. There is, as far as I know, no scientific explanation." Frank rubbed his eyes tiredly, but continued. "I wish to God I could get rid of them. They're more of a curse than a blessing. I can't even access them when I want to. That thing at the morgue, that was just ... instinct. "And the scary part, the really terrifying thing, is that somehow, I passed it on to my daughter. She's only five, and already she knows who's at the door or who's calling on the telephone. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I don't think I've ever really said it aloud before." Frank finished his narrative, sighed, and settled further into the comfortable chair. Nick studied the man carefully, refusing to make a judgment or try to explain it yet. It seemed relatively believable, yet almost as unexplainable as his own 'condition'. But it seemed that the investigator received the vision that only he could 'pick up' and then 'broadcasted' back to Nick, seemingly in distored form. That would explain Nick's involvement, but there was something wrong. "You're not telling me the truth," he stated finally. Frank paused in pouring another drink and shot Nick a vicious glare, sitting stiffly now on the edge of his chair. "You think I'm lying? That I'm crazy? Out of it? I assure you, Mr. Knight, that is far from the truth. I'm more sane than anyone. I wouldn't expect you to believe what I've said, but it's the truth." "I'm don't doubt that you have visions," Nick conceded. "But that's not what I'm saying. You're simply not telling me something. What is it you left out, Mr. Black?" Frank blanched and carefully sat the scotch bottle on the night stand, purposefully turning his gaze from Nick with an expression of... self- hatred? "You're right. It's nothing big, it's just... the visions. I think I might have developed them out of hatred more than fear. My hatred for this man just consumed me, and perhaps my body found an alternative way to express it. I wanted, with every fiber of my being, to destroy this maniac who would intend harm upon my family. And I will never forgive myself for it. It's terrible to regret a thought, but that's basically what it is." Nick nodded imperceptibly. He understood more than Mr. Black on this point. In fact, Frank's words rang so close to home that Nick's mask slipped momentarily, his age and guilt slipping beneath it for a moment before he slammed his nonchalant, expressionless visage back on. Frank, of course, didn't notice. "I suppose these visions would explain how you knew the victim of tonight's murder wasn't killed by an animal. Now, what exactly did you see in the morgue?" Nick inquired. That was one of the more important reasons Nick wanted to talk to Frank alone. He wanted to make sure there wasn't anything incriminating that the investigator received from the victim. Frank's brows furrowed as he reached into the images he received, trying to interpret them and make sense of the jumbled mess. After a moment or two, he spoke slowly. "Please understand, these visions are not clear, nor are they usually actual events. More often than not, they're representations, symbolic, like dreams. And this one was particularly violent." Here Frank paused, and as Nick made no effort to speak, he continued haltingly. "I *am* sure, of course, that it was not an animal attack, but in some ways it was. The attacker was... vicious and... hungry? No, perhaps not hungry, but he desired something from the victim. It was... an act of posession, I think. The victim was random, though. The attacker did not know the victim, did not stalk him at all. He was just..." Frank's words stopped abruptly, his voice caught on his emotions. The investigator's eyes narrowed and the muscles in his face tightened. He tilted his head to the side and began massaging his temples. Nick assumed that Frank was overwhelmed and couldn't receive anything more. Luckily, there did not seem to be a large element of the vampire in Frank's visions. Nevertheless, he couldn't risk leaving the issue alone, and he decided to press the investigator for details. "Tell me more about the attacker. Was it a man? A woman? What did the person look like?" he prodded gently, purposefully using the word 'person' to dissuade the man from thinking otherwise. Frank's eyes became unfocused, and he stood slowly as he spoke. "It was a man, I'm sure of it. In the visions, he seems unnaturally tall, but that's mostly symbolic of power. Yes, that's it, he was powerful..." "Go on, please. A physical description would be helpful, a name if you got one." Frank shook his head. "No, no name... you're going to think I'm crazy, but as I've told you the visions are usually unclear and symbolic, but..." "Yes?" "The man was very pale, like a dead body and... his eyes were glowing. They were yellow-green, I think... or... red. Or both, I'm not sure, and he had something in his mouth. I don't know what it was, but it appeared as if his lips were stretched to cover it." At this point, Frank swayed slightly, grasping the arm of the chair for support. "No, he didn't have something in his mouth. When he smiled he... he had fangs, I think." Again he paused. Continuing thoughtfully, he said, "That must have been what caused the visions! I touched the holes on the wrists. I know that seems crazy, but the wrists and the neck were the focal points of the attack. I've seen this in some cases in Seattle, but never quite this violent." Nick froze. Perhaps he could let this man get away with knowing these things since he obviously believed they were symbolic more than actual traits of the killer. Yet he had to find out if there was a connection between the vampire in Seattle and this vampire who was negligent in his disposal of prey. It would be terrible to have to deal with an irresponsible vampire and to deal with Mr. Black's memory, too. "Frank? Frank! Focus!" he snapped, trying to catch the investigator's attention. It didn't work. In an instant, Nick was at Frank's side and grasping his shoulders, trying to shake the man out of his vision. It wasn't working. "Frank, you have to tell me if it was the same killer. Frank? Is this the same killer you saw in Seattle?" All at once, Nicholas realized the harm his physical contact had caused as Frank's eyes focused instantly, his stare piercing Nick's soul. The investigator gasped, and Nick struggled to break the ensuing mental contact. The glass Frank forgot that he had been holding slipped from his hands and shattered into tiny fragments on the hardwood floor of the hotel room. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- End Part Four Continued in Part Five Getting exciting yet? Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in Part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.-- Black Flame Part Five By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~The flower of what's true opens in the face~ ~ Rumi As happened in the morgue, both men stepped back and studied each other curiously. Both held fear in their eyes: Nick feared that he would have to 'deal' with Frank, and Frank feared that Nick hadn't eaten dinner. No words were spoken, but Nick noticed that Frank's heart rate sped up drastically, and the man looked as if he would rather be anywhere else but in that room. The look on the investigator's face clearly told Nick that he knew, that he saw the Beast. Frank avoided looking Nick in the eye or even approaching his immediate position. Another minute passed by, and still nothing was said. Nick sighed tiredly, collected his jacket, and stood by the door. He decided to deal with this annoying new development at a more opportune time, since he could feel the approach of sunrise within the hour. "I suppose you'll want to speak to me when you finally assimilate what you've 'received.' Come to me when you're ready. I'll be at my home." With those words, Nick opened the door and exited the hotel room. Frank collapsed on the bed in relief, his mind struggling to deal with it all. The visions he received were, of course, rather unclear and hazy, and the mental contact lasted less than a minute. Frank thought with amusement. He'd had contact with Nick's mind before, but that was at the crime scene, and Frank had been distracted. All he'd previously received had been that Nick had a dark past and was enveloped in a cloud of misery. However, Frank had done his homework before even entering Canada and knew that this man just lost a dear friend, the late Natalie Lambert, Coroner MD. He had just assumed that the darkness that surrounded the detective was just a temporary mourning state. But tonight, he'd realized Nick's darkness extended far past last month. In fact, Frank wondered exactly how old the 'detective' was and how many he'd kill. The visions he received from Nick were in such quantity and in such detail that he had overloaded from the wealth of information flooding his psyche. Who was this man? Or better yet, *what* was he? Darkness, evil, death, possession. All those elements infected the surface of Nick's 'soul.' Frank wondered if there was anything more to him. In the visions, he'd seen countless men and women suffer and die by this man's hand, whole families slaughtered, faces upon faces swimming in a sea of blood. And last, he would see Nick, eyes golden, enjoying it immensely. Beyond the surface of Nick's soul, there were other characters at play. Frank saw the laughing face of a tall, unnaturally pale man in a white suit standing on checkered tiles. He'd seen Nick's passion for a dark beauty whose alabaster skin radiated with evil and seduction. But even further than that, there was the man: Nick Knight, homicide detective. The man who solved crimes and protected the innocent. And the man who loved Natalie Lambert. Yes, that must have been who she was, that heart-shaped face with the loving eyes and long, curly hair. He'd loved her, and he'd lost her. . That unwanted thought pervaded Frank's mental investigation, and he slammed it back down unanswered. Because if Nick Knight, despite the good that lay so far underneath, had killed the woman he loved, then Frank was in more danger than he'd ever imagined. Still pensive from his visions and giving up on profiling the dark man further, Frank decided he needed another opinion. He snatched his satellite phone from the night stand and dialed in the number he knew so well: 555-2000. For a while, he didn't know if Peter would answer, but his worries washed away at the sound of his sponsor's voice. "Yeah? What is it?" Peter's voice sounded sharp and rushed. "Peter, it's Frank. What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing, really. Just tied up right now." Frank accepted the explanation without question, and he decided to proceed with a censored version of what he'd just learned. "Well, I'm up here in Toronto, and I've found some very interesting things." "What kind of 'interesting things'? Is there a problem?" Peter's voice was tight again, worry edged in his tone. "Oh, it doesn't seem to be the same murderer as Seattle, if that's what you're worried about. But, um... well, there's a suspect here who has really disturbed me. I don't think it's the murderer. At least, I hope it isn't. But I've got a really bad feeling about this guy, and you know my feelings are usually right. "He's evil, Peter. I've never seen or felt anything like it, and I've been involved in the most gruesome murder cases of the last decade," he finished. Frank felt rather guilty about practically lying to Peter, but he wanted to keep it uncomplicated until he'd spoken to Nick again. There was a long pause at the other end of the line, and just when Frank thought Peter wasn't going to answer, his measured words ended the silence. "I'd assumed as much. Are you convinced that he is not the murderer?" Frank thought a moment, then answered without concern. "No, I don't think so. He *feels* evil but I don't think he actively acts on it. At least, not for some time." "Frank, is there something you're not telling me?" Peter asked accusingly. "Not really," Frank evaded. "I'd rather not give all the details until I've confirmed it." "You aren't going to meet with this suspect, are you?" Peter pressed. When Frank didn't respond, Peter's voice rose in volume and warned, "Don't go near him, do you hear me? Frank? It's not safe. Frank?" Not safe? Of course it wasn't safe, when was it ever *safe*. And since when did Peter care whether or not Frank was about to get himself killed? Something was very wrong here. "I've got to go, Peter. I'll check in when I get more details. Besides, I need some sleep. 'Bye." "Frank? Frank! Don't do this to me here! Frank..." The investigator ended the transmission, effectively cutting off Peter's frantic cries. He stared at the tiny black phone in his hand sullenly. What made Peter act that way? He'd always been calm and demanding, always careful with words. But he'd always given Frank the idea that he was expendable. What could have possibly changed his mind? Was there a breach in security at the Group? Why wouldn't Peter tell him over the phone? On impulse, Frank shut off the satellite phone. It was better if he couldn't be traced, even if they knew what hotel he was staying at. Just in case, Frank called the front desk and arranged to switch rooms the next evening, claiming that he preferred a better view. Proud of his cautious instincts, Frank took his gun from the top of the night stand and placed it within reach under his pillow. The thought that he was vulnerable worried Frank to no end, so he stood to check the locks on the hotel door, and nearly stood on a shard of glass. He cursed himself for forgetting to clean up the broken glass and, carefully stepping around the remains of his Scotch and soda, he grabbed some wet paper towels from the bathroom. The trash can at his side, Frank gently picked up each and every shard, carefully placing them in the paper towels and then in the trash. The scotch stain would have to wait. Then, as he was grasping a particularly large piece, the glass slipped through his wet fingers and slit his right palm. Frank cursed again, throwing the offending object in the trash can. He hurried into the bathroom to stop the flow of blood. Predictably, there was a First Aid kit underneath the sink, and he was able to stop the blood gushing from the deep wound. Once again cursing colorfully from the pain and the sight of the white porcelain sink covered with a thick layer of blood, he managed to secure the bandage enough so that he could sleep without worrying about the blood seeping through. The sight of the blood momentarily brought back the memories of his visions, and Frank shuddered as he recalled the blood that seemed to coat Nick's memories. How could someone live like that? ___________ Meanwhile... ___________ Nick entered the loft through the skylight, too tired and hungry to use the elevator as he normally did. As soon as he touched down in the living area, he headed straight for the refrigerator and withdrew a labeled green bottle from its depths. He took the bottle with him back towards the couch and stretched out on the sofa, his body melting into the cushions, his mind relaxing. If only for a moment, he could forget, he could clear his mind of the mess that had become his life and give in. But only for one moment. It all came crashing down on him, as usual. He took a huge gulp of the blood to assuage the stress and depression that seeped back into his awareness. The pressures of dealing with a gruesome body and of spending the day in the vicinity of tasty mortal treats for the first time in a month did not do good things for his deteriorated mental state. And then there was Frank Black. What was Nick going to do about him? Nicholas knew the American investigator would be back with questions. It would only be a matter of time. But could Nick answer them? Would he answer them? What good would it do? Then again, what harm would it do? Really, there was nothing more to be lost. It would feel good to get the weight of centuries of guilt off his shoulders. He'd never really spoken of his misery before, not in so many words. Not to Nat, not to Schanke nor Tracy had he told the whole miserable count of his existence. And maybe Mr. Black could understand where Nick was coming from. It was obvious he'd been through a lot, and Frank did have a psychology degree. Despite the benefits of talking about his past, what Frank became disgusted with him? Could he live with the scorn of another being? Or worse yet, pity? Probably not. But he had to try. All too soon, the blood was gone, and Nick was hungry again. The Hunger was never satisfied, no matter how much Nick could gorge himself. As he stood to get another bottle, he realized how utterly exhausted he felt. His mind felt bruised by the unadulterated rape it so recently experienced, and he had spent a fairly long amount of time straining to keep the Beast under control. The fact that dawn was soon approaching certainly didn't help his state of exhaustion. He gazed longingly at the refrigerator, but thought better of it and decided to go right to bed. Instead of sleeping in his bed as he had been for the past few weeks, Nick conceded to spend the night on the couch in close vicinity to the refrigerator and the blood supply within. As soon as Nick closed his eyes, fell into peaceful oblivion, sleeping the sleep of the dead. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.-- End Part Five Continued in Part Six Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.-- Black Flame Part Six By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~You are yourself, the animal we hunt~ ~Rumi Frank Black entered the precinct the next evening, hesitating at the door to survey the scene around him. The room was a cacophony of noise: shuffling papers, ringing phones, voices in conversation or interrogation. He looked around the room, wondering where to start. His eyes hesitated on Captain Reese's door, but Frank decided against bothering the irritable man. Besides, this wasn't exactly official business. "Mr. Black?" A voice asked from behind him. Frank turned and almost collided with Detective Tracy Vetter, Knight's young partner. They both chuckled and Frank apologized. "I'm sorry, Miss Vetter. I didn't see you there," Frank said warmly. "Oh, it's no big deal. Everyone around here seems to use me as a punching bag," Tracy said with her usual perkiness. She examined the investigator critically, noticing the bandage on his hand. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned. Frank only then seemed to notice the gauze on his hand from the accident the night before. He tried to wave it off as unimportant. "Oh, that's nothing. I tend to be a bit clumsy." "And last night? What exactly happened at the morgue?" Frank almost gulped. "Oh, that? That was nothing, really. All that blood, I guess it just got to me." "Yeah, I understand," Tracy said sympathetically. She was still trying to get used to gruesome crime scenes herself. "So, what brings you to the precinct?" "Actually, I was hoping to talk to Detective Knight. Do you know where I might find him?" Frank said, avoiding the use of pretense. Tracy looked mildly offended. Her eyes narrowed. "Mr. Black, if there's anything you need to know about the case, you *can* ask me. I *am* a police officer, you know." Making enemies of the local law enforcement was never a good idea. Frank tried to assuage Tracy's growing anger. "Oh, no, you misunderstood. I'm sure you're a fine detective. This is more of a personal matter. Nick said I could reach him at home. You wouldn't happen to know where that is, would you?" Tracy still looked a bit suspicious, but she couldn't see how this man could be a danger to Nick or the investigation. He had proven quite useful. "Actually, I'm a bit busy now. You can ask the desk sergeant. He can give you directions if you need," Tracy said, waving at the front desk in dismissal. Frank thanked her, watching her thread her way back to her desk. He wondered if she really knew who Nick was. --.--.--.- -.--.--.--.- -.--.--.--.- -.--.--.--. Frank glanced up doubtfully at the aging warehouse. He checked his watch: 9:30 PM. Again, he checked the paper that the desk sergeant had given him. The sergeant had assured Frank that it would be perfectly safe to talk to Mr. Knight in the evening since his volatile health condition was only a danger in the daytime. The address was certainly correct, but the building seemed vacant, empty, even withdrawn. He almost turned around to drive the rental car back to his hotel, but he thought better of it. Frank couldn't run from this like a coward. With renewed resolve, he approached the building and located what seemed to be the front door. It was unlocked. The door opened into a corridor. At the end of the hallway seemed to be a flight of stairs. Breaking off from the unlit corridor to the left was an elevator, and to the right was a garage that held a few expensive classic cars and a motorcycle. The green caddy that Nick had taken him to the hotel in last night was nowhere to be seen. , Frank thought, worried. Nevertheless, the man said he'd be home until Frank gathered enough willpower to speak, so perhaps he didn't park his car in the garage. Pacified for the moment, Frank glanced longingly at the elevator before choosing the safe option: the stairs. The stairs were unlit as well, and Frank climbed them carefully one at a time, his hands groping on either side of the stairwell in the blackness. After what felt like about three stories, the stairwell ended. In front of him now was a door, but it seemed that it was hardly ever used. The hinges and lock were rusty, and there were curious scratches in the wood around the handle. This door, however, was locked. Luckily, due to the age of the handle, Frank assumed that if he pushed hard enough it would open. He was right; with enough force, the handle snapped and the door squeaked open. Frank winced at the unexpected noise until he realized that he was welcome here, even invited. The door opened into a well-decorated loft, but it was totally dark. Frank had never had very good night vision, but he pressed his hands against the wall on the right side and felt for a light switch. Eventually he found one, and the kitchen area of the loft was flooded with light. Frank's eyes wandered around the kitchen area. The sink and cupboards looked like they'd never been used, but Frank had discovered in his earlier research that Nick had lived here for at least six years. Nevertheless, the sink was shiny and clean, the counter was spotless, and the table was immaculate. Frank inspected the living area. It was darker than the kitchen, but it was obvious from the state of the room that this part of the loft was used most. Empty green bottles and wineglasses were scattered about along with a slew of news magazines, CDs and CD cases, and several articles of clothing. Yet the owner of the loft seemed remarkably absent. Where was Nick Knight? Frank cleared his throat and hesitantly called out, "Mr. Knight?" No response. He tried again. "Mr. Knight?... It's Frank Black. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I decided to take you up on your offer for an explanation." Silence. Frank's voice echoed noisily against the high ceiling and spacious room, sounding eerie and disturbing. Frank began to feel like a character in a B-rated horror flick who gets attacked from behind when they aren't looking. Frank felt silly for doing it, but he glanced past his shoulder, just in case. He almost laughed at himself when all he saw was the open door behind him. For good measure he closed and secured the broken handle on the entrance. Just when Frank was about to give up and leave, he heard a faint sound. It was a single ragged breath, followed by nothing but silence. *Someone* was here. The sound was so low it must have come from nearby for Frank to even hear it. He cautiously approached the darkened living area, step by step, breath by breath. Finally, as he neared the couch, he saw the source of the sound: Nick Knight was laid out stiffly on the sofa, his eyes shut and his arms laid gently across his chest. Next to him was another empty green bottle. He must have been sleeping, but Frank heard no more breaths. In fact, the man's chest wasn't even moving. He seemed to have had a restless night, as his clothes were thoroughly ruffled and the sheet protectively covering the black leather was twisted around Nick's torso. Frank was about to place his hands on Nick's shoulders and attempt to shake the man awake, but he conveniently discarded this option when he remembered the events of the previous night. Instead, he further inspected Nick, not even noticing a single flicker of the eyelids that would clue tell Frank if the Detective was sleeping or dead. As a last resort, Frank put his right hand over Nick's nose to see if he could feel any breath. Too late he realized that his right hand was the one bandaged from the accident with the scotch glass. He couldn't feel a thing under the layers of protective cotton, not one single breath. , Frank berated himself. He was wrong. Nick's eyes shot open as he smelled the bloody bandage. His eyes glowed golden, tinged with red. His fangs extended, and in his stupor from recent sleep Nick didn't recognize Frank. One of Nick's hands held Frank's throat while the other held his prey's head in place. The jugular was exposed, and the siren song of Frank's blood called to Nick. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. --.--.--.--.-- End Part Six Continued in Part Seven Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. Black Flame Part Seven By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~The wine we really drink is our own blood~ ~Rumi Nicholas had lost all control at this point, but ironically, the control was no longer his to have. As it had on all previous occasions, the physical contact between the two men caused a harsh mental connection to unfold. Frank, not understanding in the suddenness of the act but willing to use it to his advantage, sent Nick a mental jolt, causing the Beast to retreat and the man to return. As soon as he realized what happened, Nick broke both physical and mental contact with Frank and flew to the other side of the room, safely as far as he could be from the fresh snack in the middle of his living room. Frank had saved himself from certain death, an action Frank himself could not explain, but the Beast craved revenge, sustenance ... blood. Desperately, Nick grabbed yet another bottle from the refrigerator and sucked greedily on the cold blood. Frank watched in fascination as Nick's beastly visage slowly melted away under the constant flow of blood. And suddenly, the pieces to the puzzle fell into place in Frank's mind. Nick was a vampire. Frank couldn't believe how blind he was not to see it! A vampire! The existence of vampires explained the strange circular holes in last night's corpse. It explained Nick's strange behavior toward blood and sunlight, and as strange as the answer was, it explained the red images he Received from Nick. How could he be so stupid? In more ways than one, he realized. It seemed ridiculously stupid to remain much longer. Frank's fear took over his body and he bolted for the door to the stairs he had entered through... Only to be stopped by Nick. The vampire had almost materialized in front of him and blocked the passage out. Frank was confused, disoriented, and decidedly out of his league. "We have to talk," Nick said tonelessly. Guilt and self-revulsion remained only in Nick's eyes, but all Frank could see in his fear was those golden orbs that had so recently possessed the vampire. "It was a mistake. I never should have come," Frank said stupidly, frantically searching for another way out. Yet again, Nick cut off Frank's search with words. "You came here for a reason. You must have suspected something when you came here, from the visions, from the mental contact. Why leave now without the answers you seek?" Frank, stunned, stared at Nick as the words sunk in. No, nothing had really changed. The man before him was still evil and Frank was still determined to find out more. As Frank glared at Nick's peaceful expression, he wondered how many times in the past he had done this, how many times the vampire was forced to reveal his secret. "Only once." Nick's voice startled Frank. He hadn't said it aloud, had he? Was Nick reading his thoughts even now? Yet Frank was so startled, so terrified, so out of his element that he couldn't say anything. Nick grinned wanly. "Yes, I caught some of that, but you only share the thoughts you wish to share. I can only read the thoughts that are at the top of your mind, so to speak. I can't explain it. It's never happened quite like this with a mortal before," Nick said, answering Frank's thoughts before the man could even speak. Finally finding his voice, Frank asked curiously, "Mortals? You mean you're not? Mortal, I mean." Nick nodded in affirmation. "I thought you would have gathered as much from your gift. It seems I was wrong. I also assumed you had figured out I was a vampire, a damned creature of the night. That's why I assumed you had come here." He paused as Frank seemed to digest this slowly. "Come, why don't we sit down?" he asked politely. Frank merely nodded and allowed himself to be led to the living area again. Nick led Frank to the black leather sofa that the vampire had only so recently occupied while Nick himself took the opposite stuffed chair. "No, I didn't suspect the vampire until I came here," Frank began," although the evidence was all right under my nose. I saw the different time periods in your mind, but I couldn't explain it, so I didn't. And I didn't see the vampire itself. All I saw was the blood, faces upon faces swimming in a sea of blood." Nick looked away at that moment, his face contorted in an expression of guilt and misery before replacing his expressionless mask and turning back to Frank. "The blood. Yes, it's a rather hard addiction to overcome, I'm afraid. But there's more, of course, much more. Before there was the bottled donated variety," Nick said, gesturing at the green bottles scattered around the room," it was required for survival to obtain sustenance directly from the source. I've killed so many in hunger, in the passion of the Hunt, even occasionally for... for the enjoyment of it. But what's worse, if that's possible, is that I remember each and every face of the people I've slaughtered. No one was safe. Not friends, families, lovers, strangers, families, even... even children sometimes, if the Hunger was strong enough." Frank shook his head in stunned astonishment. "How *could* you? How could you kill like that and live with yourself?" There it was: the thought that had been running circles in Nick's mind for the past couple of weeks. After a few painful moments, he answered quietly, "I have to. The rules are simple: keep out of the sunlight and stay away from sharp sticks. There are more rules, others that I'm not permitted to discuss, but that used to be it. You can't understand the hunger, the passion, the ecstasy of taking the life of another, of having their thoughts and their past become yours. It's incredibly intoxicating and addicting. "How do I live with myself? Well, I try to atone for all the wrong I've done in my past. But lately it seems so little, such a small gesture in a crowd of evil. There were points where I wouldn't want to live anymore, but others in my 'family' were always there to pick me up." , Nick thought but didn't say. Frank was utterly revolted at the candor of the man before him. Kill and enjoy it? Wasn't that everything he'd fought against for all of his life? Nevertheless, all Nick had said was confirmed by the ambiguous visions he'd received only the night before. "What about this mental contact we have? You said that you'd never experienced it with a mortal before, but you have obviously had experience, more than me I assume." Nick nodded his head, relieved to be on safer ground. "Yes, vampires do receive a certain amount of mental power. It gives us the ability to hypnotize, and it may even give us the ability to fly. Everything about us, including our minds is more advanced than that of the average human. We simply think, speak, and act faster. "If cultivated, however, something called a 'link' can be established. It can be caused by the sharing of blood, but it is more commonly caused between the parental vampire and the child that is made a vampire from the parent. This is not a natural advantage of vampirism, but some Ancients, like my own sire, know how the Link works. Most vampires don't even realize that it exists, or if they do, they don't receive clear thoughts, just visions and feelings as you do." Nick stopped as Frank raised his hand, overwhelmed. "This is a little much for me. Do you think we could start from the beginning here?" Frank was massaging his temples. His mind was taking it's time grasping such supernatural concepts, but he had so many questions! Nick smiled in response, and decided to truly start from the beginning: his. "I was brought across in 1228. That means I became a vampire. My 'sire', or my parent in this case, was Lucien LaCroix. I was lured to him in the darkness of a Parisian bar by a dark beauty, a seductress. She is, for all intents and purposes, my sister. But in the beginnings of my existence, she was much more to me. "I was fascinated by all that was offered me that night. I wanted it all: power, strength, eternal life... Who wouldn't? Little did I realize I would be giving up much more than I gained. Neither Janette, my sister, nor LaCroix had told me specifically what I would become, but I promised my soul to them. It was completely my mistake, but I thought I would never forgive LaCroix for what he did to me. "My first feeding was an unforgettable experience. I do not believe it can be matched or explained. But that first night would be an omen for many nights to come. A young woman was brought to me, and in my hunger, I greedily drank of her life. Guilt soon followed, but I was assured that it would not last. 'Only a lingering effect of being mortal, nothing more.' And so I would forget my guilt each morning and Hunt each night. "For the first few years, I was essentially dead. I felt almost nothing save for the intense passion for my new bride and my nightly hunger, and I mindlessly followed every command that was issued to me. But all too soon, the guilt returned, and my life became a living hell." --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. End Part Seven Continued in Part Eight Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. Black Flame Part Eight By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~No one knows which are blessed and which are not.~ ~Rumi It took the better part of four hours for Nick to relate his entire history. It was quite difficult, actually. Nicolas didn't tell everything about himself, just enough to outline the horrors and ecstasy of vampirism. He laid his whole soul bare before this man, this stranger that he barely even knew. And even as he was finishing, Nick fervently hoped that he wasn't making a huge mistake -- again. Talking about Natalie was even harder than anything else for Nick because the wounds were still so fresh. He'd loved her deeply, but even talking about her and the life they'd had together, even if they were unable to become physically close, truly healed a few of these wounds. And if Nick had a hard time talking about it, Frank had a harder time listening to it. It was very difficult for him to understand, even with the recent experiences he'd already had with evil. Sometimes Frank would need a break to assimilate the information, while other times, he would press for details or ask questions if he didn't understand. Some questions Nick would refuse to elaborate on. But overall, Frank felt that he was getting to know the real Nick Knight/Nicolas de Brabant even better and was relieved to find out that the man wasn't truly evil. He was just trapped behind his past, his guilt, and the monster he once was but was no longer. Finally, when Nick got to the present, they began talking about the case. "I don't think it was any vampire in their right mind," Nick stated, casually twirling a glass of bloodwine. Frank found himself entranced by the dark, thick liquid in that glass and could barely pay attention to what the vampire was saying. Nick noticed and continued with only a hint of amusement. "I'm almost certain that it was just someone passing through. Either that or some vampire has gone completely insane, in which cause I'll have to go hunt them down myself and kill them." Frank's mind snapped back into focus at that. He shivered at the fact that Nick could talk so casually about killing, even if it was some unknown psychopathic vampire. Nick noticed but didn't even comment or apologize. He wisely decided to change the subject from himself to keep Frank from becoming fearful of him. "So tell me about your wife and daughter. You seem to care for them very much." Frank smiled at the mention of his family. "Yes, I do. I don't know what I would do without them." Nick smiled wanly and commented softly to himself, "Yes, I think I understand perfectly." Frank, not realizing his error, asked, "So can you have kids? I mean, like normal mortal men?" Nick shook his head sadly, taking another sip from his glass before responding. "Not in the way that you think. If we feel the need for companionship, we often choose a mortal that we care for and bring them across. I don't think I've ever heard of a vampire couple having children, although I have heard rumors of vampires having children with mortals. However, those children often don't turn out to lead 'normal' lives and often suffer miserably between worlds. I'm afraid there isn't much choice on the matter. Either condemn a loved one to a life of darkness, which for me has been inconsiderable, or bring a hybrid into the world who wouldn't feel comfortable in either the mortal or vampiric world." Frank watched Nick's sad expression as the vampire faded once again into the past. A comfortable silence ensued. After a while Nick rose to get another glass of blood. It was becoming more difficult to stay in the same room with Frank and his bloodied hand. Luckily, or rather unfortunately, Frank didn't realize he was in any danger. While Nick was pouring himself a glass in the kitchen, he felt the oddest sensation in the back of his mind. By the time he identified the feeling, he was too late. Two forms came crashing through the skylight. They came through so quickly that Nick didn't have time to react before they descended upon the couch and seized Frank. Enforcers. Nick snarled possessively at the detestable drones, unleashing the Beast without reservation or hesitation, as he attacked the nearest Enforcer. His opponent was a black male of extreme strength. Luckily, he was younger than Nick, so Nick's age prevented the young Enforcer from sweeping the floor with him. The force of Nick's first blow sent the Enforcer clear across the room, his head banging painfully into the stereo speakers. The vampire, to his credit, recovered quickly and approached Nicolas ferociously, his eyes glowing red and growling in rage. Soon they were locked in combat, each fighting for his life. Frank attempted to help by kicking the other Enforcer in the groin. The other Enforcer, a brown-haired Caucasian male with black eyes that soon turned green, merely smiled at the pitiful mortal and grabbed Frank by the upper arm. Frank braced himself for the visions that he was sure would soon follow the physical contact, but astonishingly he received nothing. He looked at the Enforcer in amazement. Soon it dawned on him that these creatures were completely soulless; there *was* nothing to contact with. The Caucasian Enforcer didn't even bother to help his comrade. He seemed so confident of himself! He didn't even try to stop Frank as the mortal struggled in his grip, but the investigator intuitively knew that if he wanted to, the Enforcer could crush his bones with a twist of the wrist. Frank gave up his futile effort to escape and turned to watch Nick's struggle, fervently hoping that the vampire would have better luck than he did. It did seem that Nick had it under control and was winning the fight Every time the Enforcer tried to bite Nick, Nick swiftly evaded the Enforcer's teeth. Stepping to the right, he would press his hands against the Enforcer's skull and push. Hard. That seemed to discourage the Enforcer from draining Nick, but the more he tried to evade the Enforcer's teeth, the harder it seemed to get away. Plus, Nick was trying desperately to keep from killing the Enforcer. The Enforcer, on the other hand, was a bit more determined and didn't seem to have the same moral dilemma. In the end, that's how Nick lost. He'd managed to knock the Enforcer to the floor and had him pinned under his knees, but rather than kill him, Nick tried to knock him unconscious. The Enforcer was being rather difficult in that respect. After a small struggle the Enforcer caught one of Nick's knees and succeeded in pushing him off. Quickly, more quickly than Nick would have suspect him capable of, the Enforcer grabbed Nick from behind and sank his teeth into Nick's neck. The young Enforcer sucked greedily on Nick's life force, ravaging his mind in the process. Nick screamed. The pain was excruciating, and the mental contact was even worse. It was the vampiric equivalent of rape. Nick struggled but it was of no use since the Enforcer had a death-grip on his waist and his teeth firmly entrenched in Nick's jugular. When Nick was nearly drained, he whispered a final plea. "Stop." Amazingly enough, the Enforcer complied and withdrew from Nick's neck, allowing the elder vampire to fall in a crumpled heap on the floor. Frank was calling his name, but Nick was so drained, literally, that he didn't hear the mortal's pleas. He didn't even hear the elevator's engines engage as he fell into blissful unconsciousness. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. End Part Eight Continued in Part Nine Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. Black Flame Part Nine By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~So the candle flickers and goes out~ ~Rumi Frank turned from the crumpled heap on the kitchen floor, bile rising to his throat in disgust. Bravely, he managed to keep from spewing his dinner on Nick's leather couch. Frank looked up at the door to the elevator. The motors were whirring loudly. Someone was coming. Frantically, he attempted one last escape. He kicked the brown-haired Enforcer in the shins but again got no reaction, not even a snarl for his trouble. Frank was still struggling when the elevator doors opened and two figures stepped into the light. "Peter?!" Frank exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing here?" Peter regarded Frank with a rueful smile and responded, "I've been sent to collect you. I told you not to come here. Now I'm afraid no choice." "No choice? What the hell do you mean 'no choice'? What's going on? What do you have to do with these... things?" Frank spat the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Peter's companion, a handsome Chinese man, said nothing throughout this, but he now chose this time to respond. "I believe I should take this opportunity to introduce myself. My name is Avignar, and I'm actually responsible for this," he said, gesturing to the two Enforcers on either side of Frank. Frank cast a gaze at either Enforcer and muttered angrily, "I wish I could say it was a pleasure meeting you." Then, turning back to his old 'friend', "Why are you doing this, Peter? Why do you associate with these soulless murderers?" This time Peter chose to respond for himself. He chose his words carefully, trying to let the blow fall softly. "The Millennium Group has been around for a while, as you yourself should know by now. What you don't know and what isn't open to the general staff is that our roots began when a small faction of Enforcers decided that they wanted to extend their influence into the mortal world. "Basically, they own us. They have influence, but so do we. Damn it, Frank, it almost took an act of God to assure that they wouldn't kill you. And after that phone conversation I didn't know if the mysterious vampire you met would beat us to the punch." "Speaking of which," Avignar interrupted, "where is Nicholas?" The Ancient had been unnerved that he couldn't feel the little brat, and he hoped his companions hadn't become overly zealous with their assignment. The black Enforcer gestured to the kitchen area, and Avignar went to investigate. His expression turned to rage as he discovered a drained Nicholas on the kitchen floor. "He was not to be harmed!" Avignar roared angrily. The black Enforcer responded in a language Frank didn't understand, and there the conversation ended. "Get some blood from the refrigerator, Mark," Avignar said, more gently this time. "And I don't believe it is necessary to keep Mr. Black hostage any longer, Janis." The Enforcers rushed to comply to the man's commands. Frank was abruptly released from Janis's iron grip, and Mark, the black Enforcer, retrieved one of those handy bottles of blood and handed it to Avignar. Both Peter and Frank watched in fascination as Avignar withdrew the cork from the bottle. But instead of giving it to Nick, since the Brabantian vampire was too drained to respond to lifeless blood at this point, he drank it himself. In fact, he swallowed the whole bottle in three gulps. He then unceremoniously slit his wrist and placed it over Nick's clenched mouth. The response was nearly instantaneous. After only tasting the blood that dripped on his lips, Nick grabbed Avignar's shoulders and pulled the man to him. He then drank deeply and ferally from Avignar's neck. Just when Avignar began to slowly weaken and Nick showed no signs of giving up his prize, Nick suddenly pushed the vampire away in anger and stood shakily. Avignar, though not completely drained, remained on the floor. Nick hadn't taken much after all, especially after he learned whose blood he was ingesting. Avignar met Nicholas's eyes, and Frank knew instinctively that they were speaking. Peter was certainly perplexed, but he was smart enough not to ask questions. Silence filled the room. It would have been a perfect opportunity for Nick to attack and kill Avignar. In fact, it would be his only chance. But surprisingly, instead, Nick extended a hand to the fallen Enforcer. Avignar grasped Nick's palm gratefully and allowed Nick to help him stand. The two mortals stood transfixed, absolutely amazed at Nick's show of benevolence. But the looks on both of their faces showed that neither would ever discuss what just happened. They all seemed to be at a stalemate, and Nick certainly wasn't in any condition to fight further. "I suggest we adjourn to the living area and talk this out intelligently," Nick said formally, his voice soft and tired. It seemed like the best option at this point, and all agreed. Janis and Mark seemed to disappear into the shadows, within reach to aid their commander but far enough away to become unnoticeable furniture. "I do not believe we've been introduced," Nick said to Peter before they all sat down. "Peter, my name is Peter," the Group member sputtered, nervous at the sudden attention upon himself. Nick smiled graciously and accepted the man's hand. "Nicholas Knight." He then turned a questioning gaze to Avignar. "Peter," Avignar supplied grudgingly, "insisted on coming along to assure that Mr. Black was unharmed. That still remains to be seen, of course. He is otherwise fairly uneducated about us. He knows that we exist but nothing more. You, on the other hand, have made a grievous error. Several, in fact. I believe we need to discuss options at this point." Nick seemed almost angry, furious even, but he relaxed under the thought that they weren't planning on killing Frank outright. "And these are?" "I believe we should start with the oldest transgression. Your mortal partner, a Miss Tracy Vetter, I believe, knows more than she should. I realize that you did not initiate the misjudgment, but her 'protector' is dead. That, however, makes it your responsibility to take care of it since she is an essential part of your chosen existence. You have made no move to do so. We have allowed you to give the gift of knowledge to Miss Lambert due to your feelings for her, but as this relationship seems completely without romance, we will allow you to choose her fate. But it must be taken care of. Now." Avignar settled back from his little speech and let Nick think it through. Nick didn't need to think about it, of course. He leaned forward on the edge of his chair and caught Avignar's gaze. "*I will not kill Tracy*. Nor anyone else, for that matter." Avignar was unimpressed. "Yes, we realize you have reservations about cleaning up after yourself, and so we are willing, for *this once*, to allow a simple hypnotism. Will you require assistance?" the Enforcer inquired with a smirk. Nick shook his head and stated emphatically, "No. I absolutely will *not* let anyone else invade her mind. She doesn't like it. Yes, she's a resistor, but I think I can make it stick." "Good," the Enforcer stated simply. "The next topic which will require immediate rectification is your *quest*." The Chinaman spat out the last word as if it stuck in his throat. "Hopefully, recent events have dissuaded you into further involvement. Should you be so foolish as to try again, make no mistake about it. I will destroy you, no matter what objections Lucius has against it. There will be no more reprieves." This time Nick truly let his rage show. Both he and Avignar stood face-to-face and yet another glaring contest began. After a stare- down, Nick broke the silence with, "I would do as I please in this manner. You may have legal dominion over me, but you have no right to choose the path of my existence. For the immediate future, no, I do not believe I will continue my active search for mortality any longer. This is not because of you but for personal reasons. Should I concede to this point, however, I want to make it absolutely clear that this may not be a permanent situation. I could change my mind, I could not. I resent the implication that you would find it so easy to destroy me; my father would assure that you would not have a say in the matter. Do I make myself clear?" Avignar's cold stare began to crack into a vicious smile. "I see now why Lucius insists on keeping you near." Then, after a pause, he waved his hand and sat back down. "As you wish. As long as there are no immediate transgressions, the future will take care of itself. Next topic." Nick slowly settled back into his chair, his agitation at the inquisition clear. He glanced over to Frank to make sure the mortal was doing all right with this, then closed his eyes and waited for the next assault. "The latest transgression is sitting here in this room." Both Nick and Peter's head snapped up. Avignar smiled wryly and said, "We simply cannot allow Mr. Black to walk around the rest of his life knowing every intimate detail of vampiric life. Peter has agreed to hypnotism following this evening, but I'm afraid, due to Mr. Black's unique mental state, that we would be unable to hypnotize him. "We have devised an excellent solution to this problem. Not only will Frank be eliminated, but you, de Brabant, will execute the punishment, effectively discouraging you from further rebellion." Both Nick and Peter leapt out of their chairs, demanding another solution. "That simply is not an option," Nick replied flatly. Avignar raised his eyebrow and said, "Oh, really? Believe me, Nicholas, we have ways to make you do it. You would be amazed at what a vampire can do with the Hunger snipping at their heals. And if you should be so foolish as to not comply, then we will kill either you or the dark beauty that you are so fond of. We simply cannot let our authority be undermined like this, not any longer." Nick's vision turned to red as he hoisted Avignar up by the lapels. With the force of one push, Avignar was shoved brutally against the far walls, his head snapping painfully against the wall. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. End Part Nine Continued in Part Ten Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. Black Flame Part Ten By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~Don't let your throat tighten with fear. Take sips of breath all day and night before death closes your mouth.~ ~Rumi Nick tried to calm himself, to act rationally. He was trying to kill an Enforcer. How stupid was that? And yet he couldn't stop himself from attacking Avignar. Something had just snapped. Avignar, still crumpled on the floor, laughed insanely. Yanis and Mark appeared from who knows where and grabbed Nick from behind, holding him in front of Avignar for his inspection. Avignar's smile disappeared as he slapped Nick across the face and whispered in his ear. "That was *very* stupid, Nicholas. I thought we were going to discuss this like rational beings." The Enforcer held Nick's chin up and rasped angrily, "I gave you my blood, and this is how you repay me?" "You gave me your blood," Nick snarled, "because you were afraid of what LaCroix would do to you if I remained permanently damaged." Avignar snarled, indignant. "What makes you think I'm afraid of LaCroix?" Nick smiled ferociously. "*Everyone* is afraid of LaCroix. You may be Enforcers, but you're not nearly as suicidal as I am." He almost giggled to himself at that. Yes, one would have to be nearly suicidal to belittle LaCroix. Avignar tried to remain indignant, but a smile began to creep across his face, matching Nick's glare. "Ah, of course. Lucien's favorite son has some leeway with the old man. LaCroix would let you do almost anything, you realize. He is so attached to you he couldn't bear to loose his precious Knight." Then, in a whisper, Avignar continued. "Then why did he leave you all alone in your time of need? You think he cares for you? He merely wants to possess you, the golden knight, the man of light hair and heart." To hear his own fears voiced in such a manner enraged Nick. He spat at Avignar, and the Enforcer retaliated with another slap across the face. Nick met Avignar's eyes defiantly, and the two lesser Enforcers slowly released their hold on Nick. Nick raised his eyebrow, as if to suggest that they should return to negotiations, and Avignar nodded curtly. Both men sat stiffly in a stuffed chair, still maintaining eye contact. "There is another option," Nick began. "Frank needn't be executed." Avignar cut him off. "No, we do not believe that Mr. Black would be a good addition to our race." Nick looked disgusted at the possibility. "Of course not, that's not what I'm saying. I meant that I believe I have the ability to hypnotize him." "And make it stick?" Avignar asked doubtfully. "No, I don't think so, de Brabant. Even the oldest Enforcer would not be able to make it stick with a Seeing mortal. Really, it was quite unwise to unload all your dirty laundry in front of him, so to speak." Nick chose to ignore that comment. "But you see, I plan to use his special gift to my advantage," he continued impatiently. "The whole reason I told him about our kind is because he already felt most of it from me. He gets visions from me as he does a dead body. I suspect it has something to do with a dormant mutation similar to the one which allows our kind to mentally connect with each other." "Yes, yes, we realize that. Peter here told us as much," Avignar pronounced, gesturing to the Group sponsor. "But it's not only that. The visions have been induced by physical contact in successive incidents after the one last night. We have now developed a link. If anyone could take his memories, I could." Avignar seemed to think about this, then he shrugged. "It doesn't matter much, I suppose. If you *can* successfully hypnotize Frank to our satisfaction, we will let him live out the rest of his natural life. If not, the punishment still stands. Contrary to your assumptions, I have no wish to see Mr. Black dead either. He is a fascinating specimen, one which those among us would love to get their hands on." Nick nodded and turned to Frank, who had his arms crossed defiantly across his chest. "No. I will *not* allow myself to be hypnotized. These are my memories you're talking about! Besides, did it ever cross your mind that I'd be able to keep my mouth shut? Do you have any *idea* the kind of evil I've crossed paths with before and managed to mention it to no one? There are forces in the world even more devious than you," he said, gesturing to Avignar. The Enforcer merely scoffed at his implication and turned away. "Releasing you without punishment is not an option. In our considerable experience, we have found that even semi-honorable mortals as yourself often do not keep their word under expressive coercion." Nick glared impatiently at the ignorant mortal. "And you would rather die? You have no idea of what you ask. I've been there, I know. And what about your wife? Your daughter? Think about how much good you could do here. "Besides, I would not be able to kill you and then we would both die. You would not like to be responsible for this?" Nick hesitated then, hoping that Frank could see past the vampire to the man who, despite previous attempts, truly did not want to die. Yet. Frank was not used to be spoken to as a lower species, but he tolerated it and put it off as stress. He thought about his family, his job, the life he had in Seattle. It seemed to good to pass up, but could he really allow a part of his soul to be taken away in such a manner? "You will leave the rest of my memories alone? You will only take those memories and visions of the vampire?" Frank asked Nick doubtfully. "Of course, Nick assured him. "I've had lots of practice. I wouldn't hurt you, I promise." Frank closed his eyes and nodded slightly. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Not like anything about the situation was remotely believable... Nick smiled gently at the mortal. Frank had never been so terrified in all his life. Well, meeting the Devil was certainly up there, but still... Nick thought. , Frank responded mentally. Nick nodded and stretched his arms toward Frank, palms up. Frank hesitated for a moment before grasping Nick's hands. Electricity filled the air. In all previous contacts Frank had unknowingly entered Nick's mind, receiving dark visions of the vampire in the process. But this time, since Nick had control of the contact, he invaded Frank's mind and only allowed Frank to see good, supportive thoughts and warm, happy memories. Very gently, Nick picked out the memories he wanted to erase and altered others, with only minimal trauma and protest from Frank's psyche. Before disengaging himself from Frank's mind, he planted the suggestion that Frank would sleep deeply for a few hours. Then he withdrew his hands and mind from Frank. Peter and Avignar watched and Nick took his hands from Frank's grasp, and both men collapsed on the floor, their energies spent. Nick revived almost instantly, picking himself gently off the floor, but Frank remained unconscious. "What have you done? You've killed him!" he exclaimed angrily. He pulled a crossbow out of his heavy jacket and aimed it carefully at Avignar. He pulled the trigger, the heavy wooden bolt imbedding itself in the flesh of Avignar's back. The lead Enforcer snarled angrily, and pulled the bolt out with ease. He seemed to examine it curiously, then turned to glare menacingly at Peter who sputtered weakly, "But ... but it's wood! It should have killed you!" Avignar's snarl turned into a shark-like grin. "Only if it stays there. Really, Peter, did you honestly think you could kill one as old as me?" He laughed. "But since you're so important to our cause, and the Council would be unhappy if you were destroyed, your punishment shall be minimal." He gestured to Yanis, who secured the mortal in a vice-like grip and dragged him from the room. "What will happen to him," Nick asked curiously. Peter was not especially his friend, and he had also betrayed Frank. Yet he gathered enough compassion to be concerned for the mortal, who at this point had almost no one left in the room to be concerned for him. "Oh, nothing much. You needn't be concerned. He will not be *permanently* harmed. Besides, you have problems of your own to worry about," Avignar mentioned, a hint of a threat in his tone. "Further, I do not believe that you have successfully altered his mind. May I have a look?" Nick nodded the permission that wasn't really his to give. Truly exhausted now, Nick collapsed warily on the chair to watch the proceedings. Avignar, not even requiring physical contact with the mortal, closed his eyes and entered Frank's mind. It was easier for Avignar because he was older, Frank was asleep, and the mortal's mind had been recently opened. Still, his face showed effort and concentration, then finally, surprise. Avignar's eyes shot open and regarded Nick with a respectful gaze as he realized that it really *had* worked. "Since you have proven yourself useful and reformed, we humbly withdraw your punishment from the solution. Peter and I will take Frank back to his hotel, where he will awaken and realize that nothing had happened. You will be able to deal with the results when Mr. Black awakens in confusion?" "Yes, of course. I'm not going anywhere," Nick said. The statement held a good amount of finality in it, and it made him realize that he wasn't planning on leaving his home anytime soon. "There is, of course, the question of the investigation. Who was so careless as to leave a drained corpse in the middle of the city for all mortal eyes to see?" Avignar looked disgusted and replied, "Yes, we found him, and he's been dealt with. You needn't know any more than that." Nick understood that the murderer had probably been destroyed, and he predictably felt a little guilty. "If I had known about the situation sooner, I would have taken care of it before it got so messy." Avignar simply nodded respectfully. He didn't understand Nick's compassion, but he was willing to accept it. Then he called to Mark, who accompanied Avignar out the door. Avignar hesitated at the entrance to the elevator and turned to Nick with an amazed look. The Enforcer smiled and shook his head, preceding Mark into the elevator shaft. Soon the loft was quiet, and Nick was left with his thoughts again. But despite all that happened, he found himself right back where he started. Miserable and alone. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. End Part Ten Continued in Part Eleven Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. Black Flame Part Eleven By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~Some mysteries are not to be solved... The eye goes blind when it only wants to see *why*~ ~Rumi The next evening Knight entered the precinct a little later than usual. He hadn't gotten much sleep, and he literally looked like he'd just risen from the dead. Only fifteen minutes into his work day he'd been told as much. Three times. Those unlucky enough to have commented soon found themselves in swift retreat from the murderous glare of Nick Knight. After the Enforcer's left, Nick found enough energy to take Frank back to his hotel room. Earlier this morning he'd visited Frank earlier to ascertain that the hypnotism had indeed done it's job and to fill in some of the gaps that were left. At least he wouldn't have to deal with that anymore. Frank's flight was leaving in a few hours, and despite all that had happened, Nick felt as if he would miss him terribly. Although they'd only known each other for a few days, Nick felt as though he was losing a dear friend. "Hey, Partner. Gosh, you look like hell!" Tracy commented sympathetically. "Didn't get much sleep, I guess." "You guessed right," Nick replied simply. "I haven't." Tracy was a bit put off by Nick's attitude, but since it has never stopped her before, she wrote it off as emotional difficulty and cheerfully sat down to begin her paperwork. She had barely filled in the first two lines when she felt Nick's eyes boring a hole in her forehead. "What is it, am I growing a third eye or something?" For special effect, she rubbed her forehead curiously. That elicited an amused grin from Nick before his gaze turned completely serious. "Tracy, we have to talk." "Uh oh," Tracy whined. "That never turns out well. All right," she sighed, "where do you want to go?" "There's a coffee shop down the block. We can talk there." Then, without further preamble, he grabbed his jacket and waited for Tracy to follow. "I don't even know why you guys bring those heavy jackets around with you. It's not like you'll catch cold or anything," Tracy commented as Nick held the precinct door open for her. Nick grinned again and responded, "It would look awfully strange if I went around wearing a thin silk shirt in the dead of the Canadian winter, don't you think?" Tracy shrugged and smiled, and walked preceded Nick through the door. _____________ The Coffee Shop _____________ Tracy hadn't taken the news too well, Nick reflected. Instead of just hypnotizing her outright, he decided to tell her the story of the past two days. Her reaction was more incredulous than sympathetic, and she was less than happy to find out that she'd have to give up any of her memories. "Nick, I *want* to remember. I want to remember all of it! I've learned from my experiences in the past year, and I don't want to forget it!" Tracy all but hissed the last few words. Nick sighed. This was *not* going to be fun. "Tracy, listen to me. I understand that you want to remember Vachon." At the sound of the deceased vampire's name, Tracy paled and turned her head to the side to keep from crying. "But I can alter your memories to simply discard the vampire element. You'll remember him, if not as it really happened." "But I thought Vachon said I was a resistor. Doesn't that mean I can't be hypnotized?" Tracy sniffed. "With your cooperation, I can work through that. I'm older and more experienced than Vachon was. Besides, we're talking about my life here, too," Nick whispered. He didn't want to sound selfish, but he hoped she would be compassionate enough to allow him to solve his problem in this manner rather than die from her tenacity. Yet Tracy seemed no more willing to concede to hypnotism than she was before. Nick decided he'd need a more forceful approach. With the speed of lightening, Nick grabbed Tracy's wrists and snarled, "Do you want to die? Is that it? What about Vachon? Do you realize that you're the only person left on the planet to weep over his grave? All of his close friends were destroyed in the virus epidemic and during Divia's revenge. If you die, who will remember him?" Tracy was crying softly now. Nick hated to hurt her like this, but it needed to be done. The woman was just too stubborn for her own good. He lightened his tone a little and, without releasing his grip, whispered softly, "I can take the nightmares away, too, Tracy." Tracy glanced up sharply and angrily pulled her wrists from Nick's grasp. Rather than allow her to hurt herself, Nick let her go. "What makes you think I have nightmares? Have you been spying on me? Invading my mind without my consent? How dare you!" Tracy growled indignantly. "Experience, Tracy, Experience," Nick said softly. "I know Vachon's death and the surround circumstances, as well as the shooting last month affected you more than you let on. It's good to be strong, but no one is that strong." Tracy was crying again. She slumped in the booth and crossed her arms defiantly against her chest. She wiped angrily at her tears, trying to cover them with her hand. Nick continued. "Did you believe I'd think less of you? Tracy! I *do* care what happens to you. You're the only living friend I can confide in anymore. Do you think I want to take it away from you? Of course not. "But I wish someone would take my nightmares away, Trace." At this admission, Tracy's head jerked up. Nick smiled wanly and nodded. "Yes, the all-powerful Nick Knight is more vulnerable than you think. Of course I have nightmares. I've led a revolting and cursed existence. Please don't go through the rest of your short life with that weight on your shoulders, Tracy. Trust me, it will make you stronger, but it will destroy your soul. Let me help you heal," he finished. That's it. There was nothing more he could do to convince her, and he needed her cooperation. If she still refused, he would either have to attempt to take her memories forcefully or turn himself over to the Enforcers, for he surely could not kill her. Tracy took a napkin from the table and wiped away her tears. She thought about Vachon, about her dysfunctional family, about work and her partner. But lose a year of her life? It seemed impossible to even consider it! But to be free of the nightmares, she would give almost anything. The haunting cries of Vachon in her dreams, accusing her of killing him. The visions of him, dirt-encrusted hands ominously reaching towards her, a stake protruding from his chest. It was almost more than a person could take. She wasn't weak, and she loved Vachon, but she couldn't see how his memory could be cherished if she went insane. Tracy felt like she was selling her soul, but after a pause, she nodded slightly. "Okay," she whispered, more to herself than to Nick. Relieved, Nick took Tracy's hands more for support than for need of physical contact. "Just surrender your will to me, Tracy. When I ask, open your mind." Tracy only nodded. And it was that simple. He'd taken away all her memories of the vampire, although it took some imagination to keep her memories of Vachon, the man, mostly in tact. Finally, he took away her fear of the shooting and planted the suggestion that it wasn't her fault, that she would never have nightmares of the shooting or of Vachon again. Then he withdrew from her mind gently, and before she was completely aware, he lightly kissed her palms and wished her good luck. Broken from her trance and confused, Tracy said, "Wow, that was weird. I think I blacked out there for a second." Nick nodded and said, "Yeah, I was kind of worried. You all right?" Tracy took inventory on herself and replied, "Yeah, I think so. Man, that was strange." Then, snapping out of her dazed state, she said, "Well, we have work to do. People to save, worlds to conquer. You want any coffee to go?" Nick shook his head and smiled. It had worked. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. End Part Eleven Continued in Part Ten Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: Disclaimers in part 01 --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. Black Flame Part Twelve By: Amaunet Copyright 1999 ~What is form in the presence of reality?... I saw you and became empty.~ ~Rumi Nick felt so tired. Emotionally drained from the mental exercise, his head ached painfully, and he dreaded returning to work. He wanted more than anything to crawl back into his dark hole and sleep for a few hours without the interruption of nightmares. But he forced himself to return to work. It was completely necessary to get himself back into the swing of things. Back in the precinct the noise and commotion of a busy police force overwhelmed Nick. Again, as he entered the squad room, his appearance elicited hushed voices and pitiful stares. This was almost becoming too much. "Knight," Reese called to him. The Captain, instead of ordering him into the office, strode over to Nick at the door. "What have you got on last night's case?" Nick massaged his temples as he spoke. "Other than the autopsy report, there was no evidence. It appears to have been a particularly random and violent murder. The victim did not have any enemies that we are aware of, and there has not been another similar murder." , he thought to himself, hoping Reese didn't think of the Raven case last month. "We have nothing to go on." Reese nodded curtly. He didn't like unsolved cases, but there really didn't seem much to go on. "What about that American investigator? Mr.... Black, I think it was. What did he say?" Nick would have to speak carefully here. Trying to recall what he'd told Frank to remember, he answered in measured tones. "Mr. Black does agree that the MO seems similar to the case in Seattle, but he's not convinced it's the same killer. There's no motive, nothing other than the MO to tie them together. Frank Black is returning to the States this evening." Reese shrugged helplessly as if to say, 'what can you do?' Accepting this explanation for now, he conceded to let the case be closed as a hopeless cause. "Just be sure to make a full report. Oh, and there's someone waiting for you at your desk." At that, Reese turned away and went in search of Tracy. Curious, Nick strained to see through the crowd in the police room. Yet before he even saw the dark figure lounging with his feet on his desk, Nick knew exactly who it was. He knew as soon as he'd entered the squad room, but he hadn't recognized it or believed it. LaCroix. Very slowly, Nick made his way through the crowd of officers until he was standing before his sire. A thousand conflicting emotions warred for domination inside Nick. Hatred, embarrassment, fear, fury, anger... love. And he let each one show, let each emotion pass across his face for the whole world to see because he was so tired of hiding behind his mask. LaCroix said nothing. Not a explanation, an apology, not even one of his famed snide comments as to Nick's haggard appearance. Nothing. When Nick stood before him, LaCroix rose gracefully and awaited Nick's next move. The Ancient was amused and yet worried that Nick refused to hide his emotion, and he entertained himself by watching each reaction cross his son's face. Then the truly unexpected happened. Nick threw his arms around LaCroix and embraced his father freely. It takes a lot to surprise LaCroix, but this certainly shocked him. Not willing to let this moment pass, the Ancient hugged Nicholas in return, whispering quietly in his son's eat. "Nicholas, I'm so sorry." LaCroix had been prepared for anything: fury, anger, despondency. Anything but forgiveness for leaving his child. Nick responded by hugging his sire even more forcefully. It was a rare moment when LaCroix allowed those words to pass his lips, but when they did, the Ancient truly meant it. Nicholas was so relieved that his father still cared, that he wouldn't leave Nick to his own devices. Eventually, the moment passed and the embrace dissipated, the reunited pair standing awkwardly beside Nick's desk. Nick glanced around the precinct and found that the whole squad room had gone silent. Every single pair of eyes was trained on the two men. Nick almost chuckled as he realized what they must have though. , he thought to himself. Addressing his father, he whispered, "We need to talk." LaCroix nodded at the understatement and replied, "Yes, of course. Is there somewhere ... private?" Nick grinned and led his father through the startled crowd of police officers into the investigation room. As LaCroix passed each one, he sent a bone-chilling glare their way until no officer had the guts to look him in the eye. Soon, everyone had something important they had to do. People were still conversing in whispers, but at least they weren't staring anymore. LaCroix smiled to himself. As soon as he entered the investigation chamber, Nicholas unplugged the mounted camera on the wall and faced his back towards the mirror that served as a one-way window. He closed the door behind his father and said quietly, "They can't see us nor hear us. We can speak freely." LaCroix nodded. Then, unsure of what to say, he allowed the silence to stretch on, allowing Nick to begin first. "After ... after I asked you to kill me, when you refused to, I was upset. Very upset. But I meant what I said. You are and always have been my closest friend. Especially now when I realized that you were always there for me, always a part of me, whether I wanted it or not." "And what do you want now?" LaCroix asked quietly. He could not allow himself to hope yet, not until he knew for sure. Nick sighed and turned from his father. "I think you know. I think you've known since that night." "I would like to hear you say it. There must be absolutely no mistake," LaCroix said quietly. Nick nodded and closed his eyes. "I need you. I need you so much now, LaCroix. I would like to return with you, but I can't promise anything." His eyes opened, staring unseeing into the mirror that also served as an observation window. "I will not kill, surely you know that," he warned. "And I cannot stop trying to do as much good as I can. I still want to help humanity, especially after all I've taken from them. Those things are nonnegotiable. I just wouldn't be able to live with myself --" LaCroix saved his son from continuing. "I know." He laid a hand on his son's shoulder, making eye contact through the mirror. "I wouldn't expect you to, although I can't say that I wouldn't like to have you on the Hunt with me again. Perhaps you will feel differently in time. For now, I may not be able to understand your commune with humanity, I will try to allow you your eccentricities. However, you needn't torture yourself anymore with that revolting bovine concoction." "I've already given that up," Nick promised with a slight grin. "I've given up my quest for mortality, of course, but I can't promise that will last forever," Nick warned. "Forever is a long time. I just wish it was enough," LaCroix breathed as he looked away. The thought of loosing his son again was too much to bear. He closed his eyes, as if in pain. "I would not wish for you to go through this again. I hope that you will see the harm it has caused you in time." Nick finally registered the pain that he was causing his father, so he turned to his father and grasped his hands, whispering, "I know what I am and I would not want to change it. Not now, after all that I've been through. But as you know, things happen. I just want a way out if I need it. Perhaps, with your help, I could learn to truly love what I am. But I can't now. Not so soon after Natalie." Nick choked up, the thought of his lost love too much to bear. "I can't say that I like what the good Doctor did for your health or mental stability," LaCroix began, "but I do believe that you truly loved her. I understand what it's like to loose a loved one. For what it's worth, I'm sorry it didn't work out well. If it would make you happy, I would grant you mortality if I could. But I can't. Even I will admit that Miss Lambert was a truly exceptional mortal. But you know what happens to mortals. If you continue to entwine your fate with theirs, they will drag you down with them." Nick nodded, still not able to lift his head to meet LaCroix's eyes. The vampire Master rectified that annoying problem by lifting Nick's chin until he had Nick's full attention. "I have missed you, mon fils. Janette has missed you as well." "She is well?" Nick asked anxiously. He had not seen Janette since he brought her back across, and he feared that his dark beauty would never forgive him. "She is that," LaCroix acknowledged. "She is also ready to see you now. She forgives you, especially since the passing of Miss Lambert. We all know what it's like to loose a mortal love. "All that is left now is for you to forgive yourself of everything," LaCroix continued in a solicitous manner. "You saved her from certain death. You cannot blame yourself for her mistake. She still loves you." Nick's eyes lit up, his expression lightening considerably. He pulled his father into another brief hug and asked, "Why did you come? Why now?" LaCroix very slowly pushed Nick away from him and said flatly, "The Enforcers. I had hoped to come before Avignar forced you to do something you did not want to do, but it seems it all turned out well." Nick nodded. "Yes, I took care of it. Without killing. Avignar was impressed, I think. I think he knew you were coming." "Did he harm you?" LaCroix asked in concern. Nick didn't answer. "If he hurt you, I swear he'll pay..." LaCroix raged. Nick took a deep breath and said, "Avignar was not responsible. One of his goons managed to overpower me and drain me." Seeing LaCroix unfavorable reaction, he finished hurriedly, "But I am all right. Avignar let me drink of his blood and I revived without permanent damage. In the end, it all turned out acceptably." LaCroix seemed pacified, but he was more enraged than he was letting on. Draining another vampire is almost like mind rape, and he swore that Avignar would not go unpunished. However, there was no immediate need for his son to be aware of this. "Where have you been all this time?" Nick inquired. LaCroix turned his attention back to the situation and replied, "I first went to Vancouver to stay with Janette. Then, I went to Seattle for a little while." Something clicked and Nick turned on LaCroix. "Seattle? LaCroix, were you responsible for the string of gruesome murders in the area? A trusted friend told me of them." LaCroix cut off the rest of the accusation. He responded angrily, indignation tingeing his normally soft timbre. "Come, Nicholas, am I truly irresponsible enough to leave the remains of my prey lying around? No, I assure you, it was not my responsibility. I have heard from the Enforcers, as I'm sure you did, that those rather unfortunate crimes were the result of a victim of Divia, a vampire you did not know. I felt somewhat responsible, and that is another reason why I returned. Again, it seemed unnecessary. Avignar took care of the situation, as I understand." Nick still doubted the truth of the situation, but he decided to let it slide and accept the explanation. It *could* be true, after all. "So what do we do now?" "I believe that is your choice," LaCroix said with amusement. "I give you the world, mon fils. I had assumed, however, that you would want to see Janette in Vancouver. I trust my judgment was not misplaced?" Nick smiled. "You know me so well. Please, I would like to. I haven't seen her in so long." "Yes, of course. I suppose that settles it. There does not seem to be much left for you here. In fact, I believe we could leave tonight, if you wish." Nick considered it. Tracy would be perfectly safe without her memories of the vampire. She would sleep long, peaceful nights from now on. The precinct, although they could certainly use his talents and experience, could do without him. Everyone else was dead. But who would tend Natalie's grave? As if he could hear Nick's thoughts, LaCroix commented supportively, "You may stay, if you wish. But you may also return whenever you would like to see her. There are no longer any limits to your world, mon fils. Come with me." LaCroix's quiet entreaty sealed Nick's decision. He smiled at his father and plugged the camera back into the socket. LaCroix understood that as a yes, and he opened the door and left the building with his son. Nick and LaCroix left Toronto behind that night. No longer would Nicholas be miserable and alone. In the company of his father and his dark sister, a new, black flame burned where his light of hope was so recently extinguished. Every now and then, he would return to Natalie's grave to grieve over his past mistakes, but he left his past at her tombstone. He still held a deep compassion for the mortals whose lives continued to enrich his own, but longer would he allow the guilt and self-hatred to weigh down his soul. He was free. --.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--. The End Comments, questions, constructive criticism, and white roses can be sent to: -=- The quotes in the beginning of each part are experts from "The Essential Rumi," (1997, Castle Books) a book of poems by a 13th-century Turkish mystic, Jelaluddin Rumi. Translations into modern-day English are by Coleman Barks and John Moyne.