In the Dark of the Knight
by J L Kerr
March 1999
jlkerr7864@aol.com -or- eaglesmoon@aol.com


[Disclaimer:  The original characters of Forever Knight were created by      
 James Parriott and Barney Cohen and are owned by Sony/TriStar. No  
 copyright infringement was intended.]

[Timeline: first season. Nothing explicit. An elusive killer stirs panic in the 
 city. How far will Nick go to catch his man? Flashbacks to 13th c. 
 Florence.]

[Main characters: Nick, Schanke, Janette, Natalie, Stonetree, LaCroix]

===
PROLOGUE

	The man was sitting casually on one of the benches scattered 
within Trinity Square. He was average looking, in his mid 30's, with short 
light brown hair and just a shadow of a beard upon his face. He could feel 
the slight increase in temperature on his body as a small patch of 
sunshine broke through the cloud covered sky. He adjusted the dark 
sunglasses he wore as he turned his face upwards, basking in the bright 
light shining upon him. He was quite comfortable sitting there, listening to 
the chirping of the birds as they flitted around the nearby fountain. 
Smiling pleasantly, he returned his gaze to the square. 
	There were always many people passing through this time of 
day. The ones in their neatly pressed suits scurrying quickly by, on their 
way to this or that, to any one of the many office buildings surrounding 
the square. The sloppily dressed teenagers gathered together to discuss 
their as yet insignificant lives; as the occasional priest or nun, solemnly 
went forth on an errand to bring their version of salvation to their fellow 
man; while the homeless vagrant, noisily pushing a shopping cart through 
the middle of the square, stopped to rummage through each trash can 
passed. And the majority of them were the mundane men and women, 
rushing to complete their everyday tasks with the determination of self-
importance stamped upon their faces.
	The man chuckled silently to himself. These people had no idea 
what was truly important. He turned his head sharply as he heard a loud 
sound behind him. A woman walking past had stumbled and dropped her 
bag. She and a small girl were gathering packages together and trying to 
fit them back into the obviously too small bag. From the name on the bag, 
the man assumed she had just come from a busy day shopping at the 
Eaton Centre. He furrowed his brow in scorn. If she were incapable of 
carrying so many packages, she should not have purchased to excess.
	The harried woman finally got her items under control, and taking 
the small girl by the hand, continued across the square towards a nearby 
parking garage. The man continued to stare after her, then casually rose 
and slowly followed in the same direction.

	The tall blond man stood at his window looking out over the city 
of Toronto, his blue eyes attempting to pierce the darkness to view what 
few city lights could be seen through the driving rain. Night had officially 
fallen a couple of hours ago, and with some relief, he was preparing to go 
back to work after four days. He and his partner had managed to tie up a 
number of loose ends last week and were <rewarded> with some extra 
time off. He had started to tell his boss that he would rather work, but a 
solid kick to his shin by his partner quieted his protest. He didn't want to 
handle this much time to himself. It made him anxious, and he started 
thinking about things he most definitely didn't want to think about.
	A loud clap of thunder shook him from his reverie. Looking down 
at the remaining contents of the glass in his hand, he took a deep breath, 
and steeled himself to finish drinking the noxious substance. He downed 
the rest of the protein shake, grimacing at the foul aftertaste. It was 
another attempt in trying to find a dietary replacement to help with his 
<condition>. Glancing back down at the glass, he decided this wasn't it.
	Another peal of thunder sounded further away, and it looked like 
the storm was finally moving away from the city, taking the heavier rains 
with it. The storm had been lingering over the city for the last couple of 
days, and it would be nice to have a little relief from the wind and rain. 
Not even his kind liked to be out and about in this type of weather.
	He wandered into the kitchen, and rinsed his glass and put it in 
the dishwasher. Moving to the table behind the couch, he opened the lid 
to a small wooden box. Reaching inside, he picked up his watch and 
slipped it onto his left wrist. He then picked up a small vinyl wallet, and 
flipped it open to reveal his badge and identification-- Detective Nicholas 
B. Knight, Metro Homicide. He placed this in his jacket pocket next to his 
gun. Lastly, he retrieved his keys and dropped them into his pocket.
	Closing the lid to the box, he walked across the floor of his loft to 
the elevator, and grabbing his long coat, he pulled open the door to the 
elevator and stepped inside. Letting the door close behind him, he 
pressed the button that would take him to the lower floor where he parked 
his car, a 1962 San Remo Turquoise Cadillac in mint condition. He had 
purchased it brand new when he had been living in Greenwich Village, 
and just couldn't bring himself to part with it when he moved on. Climbing 
behind the wheel, he felt a sense of relief wash through him as he was 
able to focus his attention on his job once again.

===
CHAPTER ONE


	Nick parked his Caddy at the opposite end of the block from his 
destination. As he gazed towards the house, he saw the street was 
awash with flashing lights. There were numerous police vehicles, a 
couple ambulances, and many other cars parked along the street in front. 
He smiled as he noticed the coroner's van was here and knew that Dr. 
Natalie Lambert was the medical examiner on duty tonight. In the course 
of their unusual doctor-patient relationship, they had also become close 
friends. He trusted her with information about himself, that he had rarely 
confided to another.
	Stepping out of his car, he headed down the street towards the 
crime scene. As he walked along, he took in the upper middle class 
suburban neighborhood. The activity from the emergency vehicles 
seemed out of place, but he had been around long enough to know that 
murder knew no class boundary. The obvious material wealth of these 
homes would be no protection from the vagaries of life usually associated 
with the seamier areas of the city. 
	He continued to look over the houses and yards as he passed 
them. He paused in front of one home, located across the street and two 
doors down from the murder scene he was heading towards. He stared 
at the house, not knowing what specifically drew his attention. The lights 
were off and it appeared there was no one home, but he had a mild 
sensation that felt as if someone was watching him. He detected no 
movement, nor any indication that anyone may be there. To the right of 
the house were a number of large trees surrounded by small bushes. 
Something was there. Suddenly, they began to sway as they were hit by 
a large gust of wind.
	Looking up at the sky, Nick could see the dark storm clouds 
rolling by. It had been raining hard earlier, and just recently let up. It 
looked like it would rain again soon. Nick looked back over to where he 
felt the strange feeling emanating, but was soon distracted by an 
approaching uniformed officer.
	"Excuse me, Detective. They're waiting for you up at the house," 
the young officer shouted, beckoning him to come forward.
	"I'm coming," he replied back, shaking off the mild sensation. He 
sped his pace to the scene, turning his attention to the house up ahead. It 
was about ten o'clock on a Wednesday night and it seemed most of the 
neighbors were standing in their yards trying to determine what had 
happened. He hurried past them and turned up the driveway.
	Nick walked past the uniformed officers, nodding a greeting as he 
went by, and headed for the front door. The officers he passed were 
talking to various neighbors and keeping them away from the scene.
	As Nick stepped into the house, he was immediately assailed by 
an overwhelming smell of blood. It was almost as if the house had been 
drenched in it. Looking up, he could see the drying red substance was all 
over the door frame and surrounding wall. He quickly stepped back out 
onto the porch, and gulping large breaths of fresh air, he forced his 
instinctual reaction, caused by the blood scent, into submission.
	Situations such as this were a sudden reminder to him that he 
was a vampire. Not that he ever actually forgot, but in his quest to regain 
his mortality, he lived and worked with the very mortals he once long ago 
hunted. He had become comfortable in their world... sometimes too 
comfortable, he reminded himself.
	"What's the matter, Knight? A little squeamish?" questioned 
Officer Harris good-naturedly, as he manned the front door.
	"No, I'm all right. Looks a little crowded in there." 
	"Yeah, tell me about it. It's pretty bad in there."
	"So, what do we have here?"
	"Two dead bodies, man and wife, and a missing six year old girl."
	"Great. Do you know who called it in?" 
	"Uh, yeah. Petrie is talking to her now, over there." Harris nodded 
his head in the direction of the driveway.
	"Thanks, Harris." 
	Nick thankfully headed for the driveway where Officer Petrie was 
talking to an obviously distraught woman. He decided that by the time he 
finished talking to her and Petrie, maybe he could better handle going into 
the house. He wasn't ready for this.
	"Excuse me. I'm Detective Nicholas Knight, Metro Homicide,"  he 
quietly stated as he showed the woman his badge and ID.
	"Detective Knight, this is Mrs. Hornsby. She lives next door here," 
Petrie said indicating the house with the adjacent driveway. "She was 
dropping by the Barnett's house here, to visit Mrs. Barnett. She said she 
knocked on the door and no one answered. She knew they were home 
and Mrs. Barnett was expecting her. The door was unlocked so she went 
in, and that's when she saw the blood on the walls. She got scared, ran 
home and called us. Harris and I responded to the call. Mrs. Hornsby met 
us here in the driveway. We went in the house and found the bodies and 
called it in. You probably know the rest."
	Nick had been watching Mrs. Hornsby as Officer Petrie was 
giving him the run down. She was obviously very upset, but then again, 
who wouldn't be. He could tell she had been crying, but looked like she 
was trying to pull herself together.
	"Mrs. Hornsby, I know this is difficult, but I need to ask you a 
couple of questions."
	"Okay, Detective. I want to help," she said taking a deep breath. 
"I can't believe this happened!"  and then she started crying.
	Nick put his arm on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. 
This seemed to have a soothing effect. Her crying stopped and she 
seemed to pull herself together a little.
	"What do you want to know?" she asked, in a quavering voice.
	"Were you and Mrs. Barnett close friends?" asked Nick gently.
	"Yes, we were pretty close. We talked to each other almost every 
day," her voice quavering even more. Nick could sense she was on the 
verge of tears again.
	"When was the last time you spoke with her?" 
	"Just a few hours ago, around 6:30. That's when I let her know I 
would be over later tonight, after the kids were in bed. We were planning 
a party for the children."
	"Did she seem upset when you talked to her?"
	"No, she seemed fine. I've been over it in my mind, and 
everything seemed normal," she said, starting to cry again.
	"Mrs. Hornsby, I know this is hard, but do you know if there was 
anything in the last couple of months that she was unusually upset 
about? Had anyone been bothering them, like prank phone calls, being 
followed, or anything like that?" Nick asked in his most soothing voice.
	"Janet, call me Janet please," she said as she wiped her eyes 
and her nose.
	"Okay, Janet."
	"No, not that I know of. I'm sure she would have said something," 
and then Janet starting crying again. "Oh, this is just so horrible. Who 
could do such a thing?"
	"That's what we're going to find out." Reaching into his jacket, he 
pulled out a card and handed it to her. "Here's my card. If you think of 
anything, call me. Okay?" 
	"Okay, Detective," she said taking the card. "Thank you."
	As he looked up, Nick noticed that the local media vans were 
beginning to arrive. He didn't think Mrs. Hornsby was up to handling their 
attention and turned to Officer Petrie, who was still standing by waiting to 
assist.
	"Petrie, why don't you take Mrs. Hornsby, Janet, home. While 
you're over there, see if anyone in the family saw or heard anything."
	"Sure." 
	As Petrie began to take Mrs. Hornsby to her house, Nick turned 
and headed for the Barnett's front door. He took a few deep breaths, 
psyching himself up to handle the smell of blood that was permeating the 
entryway.
	"Hey, Knight. They've been waiting for you in there. I told them 
you were talking to the neighbor who called it in."
	"Thanks, Harris," said Nick, as he took a deep breath and walked 
through the front doorway.
	The smell of blood assaulted his senses immediately. There was 
no way around it. Nick closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to 
focus, to get past the smell. After a few moments he felt himself gain 
control.
	As he opened his eyes he began to look around the front 
hallway. The first thing he noticed was the blood painted on the walls. He 
could see why Mrs. Hornsby would have been scared and run out right 
about now. 
	Nick continued down the hall being careful to stay on the plastic 
mats. He went past the living room, dining room and on into the kitchen. 
This is where they found Mrs. Barnett. She was laying atop the kitchen 
table and Nick noticed that all the kitchen blinds had been drawn closed. 
From the looks of the room, Nick figured Mrs. Barnett must have just 
finished cleaning up.
	The once white kitchen cabinets were covered with large 
splashes of blood. It had dripped down and congealed on the kitchen 
counter. Blood was all over the floor, you wouldn't have been able to 
avoid walking in it if it hadn't been for the plastic that had been laid down. 
The aroma from the blood was stronger here than at the entrance. He 
briefly closed his eyes and forced himself to block out the smell.
	"Hey, Nick. You want to take a look at the body before I take it to 
the morgue?" asked Natalie, as she glanced at him with a 'and just where 
have you been' look. Nick walked over to where she was standing over 
the body.
	"Yeah. I was talking to the neighbor outside. The one who called 
it in. I wanted to get to her before the media descended on us. She's 
pretty upset."
	"Yeah, I can see why." Natalie lowered her voice and asked, "and 
how are you doing?"
	"What do you mean?" asked Nick, with a wary look.
	"You know, all this ...." Natalie shrugged, trying to indicate all the 
blood that was over everything. As his doctor, in helping him to find a 
cure for his vampirism, she knew of his strong desire for blood. Although 
he no longer drank human blood, she knew he still craved it. This couldn't 
be easy for him.
	"Oh, that. I'm handling it," said Nick, shrugging nonchalantly, not 
wanting her to know how hard this really was for him. "So, what have we 
got?" he asked, while quickly glancing around the room.
	"My guess is she was first knocked out by a blow to the head. It 
doesn't look like she fought back much, if at all. That's why I think she 
was dazed or unconscious before he took the knife to her. He cut her 
jugular here, and she still had to be alive when that was done. That 
accounts for all the blood," stated Natalie, motioning with her arm to 
indicate the blood all over the kitchen.
	Nick quickly stepped back from the table. "I've seen enough, 
thanks," said Nick, as he pulled out a handkerchief and placed it over his 
nose and mouth, trying to act casual about it.
	"Handling it, huh?" asked Nat, as she motioned for them to 
remove the body and take it to the morgue. Nick just glared at her.
	"Hey, Knight. It's about time you got here. Where're you've 
been?" asked Schanke, walking into the kitchen from another hallway. 
Don Schanke and Nick had only been partners for a short while, having 
been teamed up some months back by their boss, Captain Joe 
Stonetree. Their relationship had started out pretty rocky, but they were 
slowly getting used to each other. Much to Nick's surprise, he actually 
liked having this partner.
	"I was talking to the neighbor. She didn't see anything," he 
added.
	"Yeah. That figures. Come back here. There's another body to 
look at," said Schanke wearily, as he headed back the way he had come. 
"The husband is back there in the den. It's just as bad there as it is here." 
	"I haven't been back there yet either," Natalie said, as she picked 
up her bag and headed after Schanke. "Coming, Nick?"
	"Right behind you." Nick followed Natalie down the hall towards 
the den. The floor was covered by a plastic mat. He could see they were 
following a trail of blood that led from the kitchen. Nick had seen some 
pretty brutal murders in his time, and these ranked right up there amongst 
the worse. He shuddered to think of what kind of mind could do this. It 
was his job to figure it out, and he wasn't really looking forward to this 
one.
	As they approached the den, Nick could see where the door 
frame also had been repainted in blood. As they entered the room, the 
scene was much the same as the kitchen. Mr. Barnett was laying on his 
back, on top of the desk. You could see where he had been struck in the 
head, probably knocking him out. His jugular had been cut in the same 
fashion as his wife's. Blood was all over the wall and floor. Nick decided 
he had seen all he needed to, and he really needed to leave. The smell of 
the blood was cloying, almost making him dizzy. He needed fresh air. 
"Schanke, maybe we should go see what the uniforms have come up 
with?" 
	"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea," said Schanke, just a 
little hesitantly. "Nat?"
	"You guys go ahead. Once I get the bodies to the morgue and 
complete the autopsies, I should be able to give you a good idea how my 
suspicions pan out. Don't plan on any results until tomorrow though, I 
think this is going to take awhile." Natalie turned back to the body and 
continued taking measurements and bagging evidence.
	"I'll catch up to you later Nat, okay?" said Nick, a little hesitant 
himself. 
	"Yeah, sure Nick. See you two later," said Natalie, with just a 
twinge of wry amusement to her voice. They were both looking a little 
green around the gills.
	Nick and Schanke made their way out of the house. They 
nodded to Harris as they stepped to the porch and down onto the front 
lawn. 
	"Man, oh man, Nick. Those people were practically butchered. 
What sick mind is capable of such a thing?" asked Schanke in disgust. 
"Their little girl is missing, her name is Sally. No one has found a trace of 
her. You think the killer would've taken her?"
	"I don't know, Skank," Nick stated in a detached tone of voice. 
This was really bothering him too, and he was trying to get the images 
out of his head. The fresh air was helping. He took a couple of deep 
breaths, then turned into the breeze, letting it blow across his face. After 
a short moment, he said, "let's go see what they have for us."
	Nick headed back towards Petrie to see what else they had 
gathered from talking to the neighbors. Schanke went to the other officers 
on the other side of the yard for the same purpose. Nick finished up, 
thanked Petrie and returned to where Schanke was just finishing up also. 
Halfway across the yard he spotted a large stout man, who he 
recognized as Captain Stonetree, coming up the walk. Nick stopped to 
wait for him, and they both waited for Schanke to join them.
	"I hope one of you has some good news for me. I've got the 
mayor and the commissioner on my back and they're not being very 
patient. The mayor doesn't live far from here and isn't too happy about 
something like this happening practically in his backyard. They both want 
answers now, so what do you have?" demanded Stonetree, in a 
frustrated voice.
	Nick and Schanke looked at each other, hoping the other one 
had something and was going to answer first. When that didn't happen 
Stonetree turned to Schanke and said, "well?"
	"Yeah, well," he started, glancing at his notebook. "It seems that 
no one we've interviewed saw or heard anything. We found signs of 
forced entry into the garage. Once there, the killer waltzed right into the 
house. We think he killed the wife first, then the husband. There's a little 
girl also, but we haven't been able to locate her."
	"You think the killer took her?" asked Stonetree.
	"We don't know, Captain. We still have men out looking for her. 
We hope she just got scared and ran away, but we don't know," replied 
Schanke, sounding frustrated and obviously concerned about the little 
girl. "Her name is Sally, and she's just a year or two younger than Jenny," 
commented Schanke, referring to his own daughter.
	"Let's not think the worse yet, okay, detective," said Stonetree 
encouragingly.
	"Yeah, right Cap," agreed Schanke.
	"Knight, I don't suppose you have anything?" said Stonetree, a 
sound of hopeful expectation in his voice. It wasn't unheard of for Knight 
to pull a rabbit from a hat. The guy had instincts that just didn't quit. It was 
almost eerie, the types of connections he would make. But he was 
usually right, and that was really all that mattered. Any more than that, he 
didn't want to know.
	"Nothing concrete," he replied vaguely. Schanke threw him a 
questioning glance, while Stonetree looked at him expectantly.
	"What's your gut telling you?" asked Stonetree curiously.
	"I think it's obvious this isn't the first time the killer has done 
something like this," said Nick thoughtfully. "He just did it too well. It 
seemed pretty planned out."
	"Okay, so any ideas?" asked Stonetree, first looking at Knight, 
then Schanke. They both shook their heads negatively. "You two stay on 
this. I want some answers. There has <got> to be something, just keep 
looking," ordered Stonetree, fixing them with an 'and I mean now' stare.
	"Yes sir," they both replied. 
	They watched as Stonetree headed into the Barnett's house, 
then turned to look over the neighborhood again.
	"Let's get back to the station and see what we can come up with, 
okay?" suggested Nick.
	"Yeah, okay. I'll meet you back there."

===
CHAPTER TWO


	Back at the precinct, Schanke and Nick were making little 
progress. While Schanke spent the time putting their case notes together, 
Nick was on the computer looking for other unsolved cases that may be 
similar. Nick was sure there were other murders. This killing felt 
practiced, organized, and there seemed to be few obvious clues left 
behind.
	Having finished submitting his query for the information, he didn't 
feel like sitting around waiting for the computer. It would be awhile before 
he got the results, if they even came in tonight. "Skank, we're getting 
nowhere here. Forensics finished at the house a while ago. Why don't 
you wait here and see if you can get a preliminary report. I want to go 
back to the house and see what we may have missed."
	"Sure, no problem. I've got some old case files I want to review. 
Probably a waste of time, but hey, what else is there?" said Schanke, as 
he dropped the stack of papers on his desk.
	Nick walked outside and headed for his car. About halfway to the 
car he stopped and looked around. He just had the strangest feeling, for 
just a second, like someone was watching. But the feeling left as quickly 
as it came. Nick shrugged it off and continued towards his car.

	Nick pulled the Caddy into the driveway of the Barnett's house. It 
was just before four in the morning and the rest of the street was dark. 
The neighborhood was quiet, the only sign of the earlier activity being the 
trampled grass on the lawn leading up to the front door of the house. 
	He checked in with the officers watching the house from their 
squad car in the street, then headed towards the front door. There was 
yellow crime scene tape across the entrance. He opened the door, 
ducked under the tape and entered the house. The smell of blood was 
still strong, but he had been prepared this time. He was hoping, that 
alone and unobserved, he would be able to detect some telltale sign left 
by the killer.
	He concentrated, forcing himself to block out the smell of blood. 
He began looking around. The earlier reports stated they thought the 
killer entered the house through the side door of the garage. Nick started 
there, tracing the killers path through the house.
	As he walked from room to room, he took note of the furnishings. 
It had the look of a professional decorator. Everything seemed to blend 
together, in what he thought was a slightly classical Italian renaissance 
style. Passing through the living room, from the corner of his eye he 
noticed a painting on the wall. Unremarkable, except for the memories it 
invoked. It was of the city of Florence, surrounded by the Tuscany hills. 
The picture made it look not much different now, than it had been in the 
past.

--- Start flashback ---
Florence, late 13th c.

	He was sitting astride the balustrade, with one leg swinging idly 
back and forth. Their villa was nestled high in one of the surrounding 
Tuscan hills, overlooking the valley. He let his gaze wander over the city 
below. It was dark, and few lights were burning. It was not yet midnight, 
and already everyone had scattered to their homes, locking themselves 
safely inside. A soft breeze had sprung up, rustling his hair as it gusted 
by.
	"Nicholas..." He turned as he heard his named called. "And just 
what are you about?" asked LaCroix, stepping onto the verandah and 
walking over to where his son was delicately perched on the railing.
	"I am bored. There seems to be nothing to do," he replied, 
looking again down at the city.
	"Were you not to attend a party at the home of your friend, 
Cosimo, is it not?" asked LaCroix.
	"His father canceled it. Said it would not be appropriate under the 
circumstances," answered Nicholas sighing, obviously not happy about 
having his plans changed.
	"What circumstances?" inquired LaCroix.
	"Remember the man that was murdered down by the Ponte 
Vecchio the other night? He had his throat cut. It was that of Cosimo's 
cousin. His family is in mourning, and all the social events have been 
called off, everywhere," said Nicholas.
	"Everywhere?" asked LaCroix skeptically.
	"Well, everywhere that I wish to go,"  he answered.
	"Then how is it you plan on spending your nights?" asked 
LaCroix, curious to see what amusement Nicholas would choose for 
himself.
	"Cosimo's cousin was the fourth person to be murdered in as 
many months. If this were to continue, there will be no more gatherings. 
Everyone is frightened to leave their homes after dark," he related.
	"And what do you propose we do about this?"
	"I think we should go and catch this murderer ourselves," 
suggested Nicholas.
	"Why should we wish to get involved?"
	Shrugging, Nicholas replied, "it could be fun. We could hunt the 
killer. Does that not sound intriguing?"
	"Ironic, would be a better word. But, if it pleases you, I give you 
my leave to do so," said LaCroix indulgently. At Nicholas' obvious 
excitement, he added, "however, you must be careful. Do not do anything 
that would lead the authorities to our door. They are skittish enough as is, 
and may not welcome your assistance. Are we clear on this?"
	"Yes, LaCroix. I will be careful," Nicholas assured him.

--- End Flashback ---

	Shaking his head, Nick pulled himself back to the present. He 
had no desire to dwell upon old memories, especially those involving 
Lucien LaCroix, his vampire father, the one who had brought him across 
into this life of eternal darkness. Closing his eyes, he could clearly see 
the image of a tall and forbidding man, with close cropped white hair, ice 
blue eyes that could pierce straight into your soul, and a presence that 
radiated with the power and strength of his millennium of existence. That 
chapter of his life was behind him. He had closed the door himself, 
forever.
	Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind, he continued his 
search. Finding nothing on the ground floor, Nick climbed the stairs to the 
second level. There was less smell of death and blood upstairs, and Nick 
was able to relax a little and let his senses flow. He was standing in the 
main hallway. He carefully moved from room to room, looking for 
anything odd or out of place. The last room at the end of the hall 
appeared to be a child's playroom. Everything looked normal. 
	Frustrated, he took a deep breath, and as he was exhaling, he 
thought he sensed something. It was faint. He concentrated, using his 
enhanced sense of hearing, and was sure he heard it. A rapid thumping 
sound. He followed it to a corner of the room where a small playhouse 
stood. There was someone in the playhouse and the sound was 
unmistakably a human heartbeat. It became more rapid as he opened the 
door and peered inside.
	He looked around and saw nothing. Standing, he announced to 
the room, "I'm a police officer and I'm here to help you. It's safe to come 
out now." Getting no response, he concentrated on the sound. Peering 
back inside the playhouse, he was sure the sound of the heartbeat was 
coming from inside, although he saw nothing. The back of the playhouse 
was open and pressed up against the wall. Looking closely, he saw what 
looked like a hinged door in the wall. Standing, he picked up the 
playhouse and moved it away from the wall, revealing a small door 
leading into a crawlspace over the garage.
	Getting on his hands and knees, he pulled open the small 
doorway and gently spoke into the opening, "Sally, I'm a police officer 
and I know you're in here. It's okay to come out, I won't hurt you. I'm here 
to help you." He could hear the increased beating of her heart, but 
otherwise, no response.
	Nick crouched down and crawled part way into the opening, and 
said, "don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." Using his enhanced sight to see in 
the darkened space, he looked around and saw a terrified six year old girl 
staring back at him. She was sitting on the floor with her hands wrapped 
tightly around her knees. Tears were running down her face and she was 
trembling. Nick slowly held out his hand to her and said, "it's all right 
Sally. I'm a police officer. I'm Detective Knight. I'm here to help you. I 
won't hurt you. Do you understand?" She just stared at him with huge 
terrified eyes.
	He could tell that she knew what had happened to her parents... 
had probably seen it happen. He continued to hold out his hand to her, 
locking his eyes with her, and in his most soothing of voices told her, "it's 
okay. I'm not going to hurt you. You can trust me."  He could feel her 
calming down and relaxing as he continued to talk soothingly to her, 
when all of a sudden, she let out a small cry and ran to him.
	She grabbed him tightly around the neck, pressing her face into 
his shoulder, and began crying uncontrollably. Nick wrapped his arm 
around her and backed out of the cramped area. He stood up, holding 
her securely, and whispered to her that everything was going to be okay. 
After a few minutes her crying subsided, but she didn't release her hold 
on him, if anything, she was holding him tighter.
	Nick decided that the best thing to do was to get her out of the 
house. He didn't want her to see the blood smeared all over the walls, so 
he removed his coat and placed it over her head so she couldn't see. He 
then walked downstairs and out of the house to his car. He opened the 
drivers' door and slid into the front seat with the girl. 
	He tried to put her down in the passenger side of the car, but she 
refused to let go of her grip around his neck. He continued to soothe her 
until she finally let loose so he could set her down on the seat next to 
him, where she immediately grabbed him around the waist, pressing her 
face against his stomach. He gently stroked her hair and could feel her 
beginning to relax. Nick then started the car and backed out of the 
driveway. He stopped alongside the watching officers, and after a few 
brief words, headed back to the precinct. He left it to them to call in and 
report that he had found the girl.

	Meanwhile, across the street and down the block, the killer sat 
hidden behind a small group of large bushes. He was silently watching as 
the detective carried the small girl out to his car.
	He had known she was in the house, and he knew she had seen 
him earlier. It had not concerned him at the time since he was planning 
on killing her too, but that neighbor woman had interrupted him. He had 
been looking for the girl when he heard her enter the house. He had to 
abandon his search knowing that the police were being called.
	When he had seen the two detectives leave, since he couldn't go 
back to the house while the rest of the police were there anyway, he had 
decided to follow them. He recognized the tall blond detective as the one 
who had stopped on the sidewalk outside his hiding place earlier, and 
had stared into where he was crouched behind the bushes watching. He 
sensed something from this one that he suspected would be trouble. This 
one seemed to 'know things'. 
	He had sat in his car outside the police station for most of the 
night and when he saw the tall blond detective leave, he decided to follow 
him. It didn't take him long to figure out he was headed back to the 
murder scene. The killer knew that the little girl was still in the house and 
maybe the detective would find her for him. He could not allow her to live. 
She had seen him. 
	When he saw the blond detective leave the house with the girl, 
he became excited. The killer hurried to his car and quickly caught sight 
of the Caddy heading down the street. 'This is just too easy,' thought the 
killer, chuckling to himself.

	Nick's concentration was on the little girl seated next to him. She 
had stopped crying and was now sitting quietly, her arms still wrapped 
tightly around his waist. They came to a stop at a red light and Nick 
asked, "Sally, are you feeling better now?" She just sniffed and pressed 
closer to him. 
	Looking ahead down the road, Nick noticed an all night burger 
place. Glancing down at Sally he asked, "are you hungry? Would you like 
to stop and get something to eat?" Nick figured she probably hadn't eaten 
in quite a while and must be hungry. Sally didn't answer. Nick decided he 
would stop. They wouldn't have anything for her at the station and it was 
going to be a long day ahead for her. She should probably eat something 
now while she had the chance.
	When the light turned green, Nick headed down the road and 
pulled into the burger place. The drive-through was closed so they had to 
go inside. He pulled into a parking place and stopped the car. As he 
opened his door and started to get out, Sally reached up and grabbed his 
shirt as if she were frightened he was going to get away. He reached 
down, grabbed her under her arms and picked her up. He carried her into 
the restaurant with her arms tightly wrapped around his neck.
	He went to the counter and ordered her some food. It was placed 
in front of him before he could finish paying for it. He picked up the tray 
and carried it, and the little girl, to a table in the center aisle. He set the 
tray on the table as he sat in the booth. He managed to get Sally to let go 
of him long enough to turn around and sit on his lap. With coaxing from 
him, she picked up her hamburger and began to slowly eat.
	Business was slow this time of the morning and most of the 
customers, like Nick, were probably working the night shift and just 
grabbing a quick bite. In the short time they had been sitting there, a few 
customers had come and gone, so there was really no reason to be 
suspicious when a man entered and headed towards the counter at the 
front of the restaurant.

	The killer was on the other side of the room and he stopped just 
behind where he saw the blond detective sitting with the little girl. He had 
followed them to the restaurant, chuckling the entire way. This detective 
was making things so much easier for him that he couldn't believe his 
good luck. This was a clear sign that destiny was on his side. This was 
meant to be.

	As Nick sat there watching Sally eat, he again sensed that 
strange feeling he had experienced earlier as he was going to his car, 
only this time it didn't go away. He turned around to look just in time to 
see a man, tugging a ski mask over his face, pull a gun and aim it in his 
direction.
	Nick grabbed Sally and threw her and himself to the floor just as 
the bullets passed through the air where they had been sitting. Nick 
pulled his gun, rolled across the aisle and came to his knees with his gun 
pointing in the direction of where the shots had come from. No one was 
there. Nick saw the back of a man running out the door into the parking 
lot. He held off firing and got up to give chase. He was almost to the door 
when he heard Sally screaming. He hesitated briefly, before reluctantly 
turning back to take care of the little girl. 
	He was sure this man was the killer and he tried to get a sense of 
the man, as he hurried back to Sally. He holstered his gun and bent down 
to pick her up. She stopped screaming the moment she was in his arms. 
"Has anyone called the police?" he asked, looking around quickly.
	"I did," said the manager, from the front of the restaurant. "They 
said they would be right here."
	"Okay, everyone be calm and stay down. I'm a police detective 
and everything's under control."
	He stood with his left arm supporting Sally, who had her arms 
once again tightly around his neck. Then he got that strange sensation 
again, very strong.
	He pulled his gun and stretched out his arm, pointing his gun out 
the window towards the parking lot. It was dark out there, and even with 
his enhanced sight, all he could see were shadows, but he could feel the 
presence. The killer was still outside. He could feel him moving, stalking 
him. He turned in a slow circle, gun arm outstretched, staring intently at 
the darkness, as he sensed the presence moving outside.
	He heard sirens in the distance.

	'Damn that detective! How did he know I was there? How is it he 
knows where I am now? If he can see me, how come he doesn't shoot? 
Unless he can't see me, yes, that's it. But he knows I'm here somehow. 
He can sense me. He's following my every step. Damn! This could ruin 
everything. Well, I'll just have to kill them both now, won't I?' the killer 
thought to himself, feeling totally confident that he would be able to carry 
out his plans. 'Now, how am I going to leave without that detective seeing 
me?'
	He heard sirens in the distance.

	There was a loud noise directly behind him and Nick spun, 
aiming his gun at the source of the noise. A customer crouching next to 
the condiment counter had knocked over the napkin dispenser, sending it 
crashing to the floor. Nick, seeing this wasn't a threat, turned back to look 
for the presence he had earlier sensed. It was gone. Nick concentrated, 
and surprised, sensed nothing. The killer was gone.
	Just then a couple of patrol cars, lights flashing, pulled into the 
parking lot. As the officers came running into the restaurant, Nick put his 
gun away.
	"Hey, Knight, what's up?" said Officer Harris, with Officer Petrie 
beside him. They both looked around, saw the frightened customers 
crouching on the floor, and noticed the table full of bullet holes next to 
where Nick was standing.
	Just as Nick was getting ready to answer, Schanke came 
hurrying in, "Nick, are you all right? Is that the little girl?" he asked, all 
worry and curiosity.
	"This is Sally Barnett," replied Nick, indicating the girl who had 
her face buried in his neck. Nick could feel her trembling. Her breath was 
quick and hot against his neck and he could hear her heart beating 
rapidly. "I found her hiding in her house and we were on our way back to 
the precinct when we stopped for a quick bite. I believe the man 
responsible for this is the one we've been looking for. He must've 
followed us from the house."
	"Here, let me take her," said Schanke, reaching up to take her 
from Nick. As Nick started to push her towards Schanke, Sally started to 
scream.
	"It's okay, Sally. This is Schanke, he's my partner. It's okay," said 
Nick, trying to calm her down.
	"No, no, no," yelled Sally, as she grabbed a tighter hold on Nick, 
not about to let go of him.
	"Okay, Sally, it's okay. I won't let go of you," said Nick, trying to 
calm down the crying child. He gave Schanke a 'what have I got myself 
into' look as he hugged Sally closer to him. She stopped crying.
	"Okay, now what do we do?" asked Schanke.
	"Here's what we'll do," sighed Nick. "Schanke, you drive Sally 
and me back to the precinct. Harris, Petrie, you guys finish up here and 
one of you drive my car back to the station. How's that sound?"
	"Sounds good to me. Let's go," said Schanke, heading towards 
his car.
	"Okay," said Harris, holding out his hand for Nick's keys.
	Nick handed over his keys and then followed Schanke out to his 
car.

===
CHAPTER THREE


	"Hey, honey, we're not going to let anyone hurt you. You're safe 
with us," cooed Schanke, trying to soothe the little girl. She was sitting in 
his partner's lap, hand tightly clenched around a fistful of Nick's shirt. She 
had calmed considerably since they got her to the precinct, as long as 
they didn't try to separate her from Nick. Looking up, Schanke said to 
Nick, "well, you certainly put a spell on her. Now what are you going to 
do?"
	Looking completely at a loss, Nick replied, "I don't know. What 
am I suppose to do? She can't stay with me. I don't know anything about 
little girls."
	"You underestimate yourself, partner. You're a natural," said 
Schanke, smiling at Nick's discomfiture. "Just look," he added, indicating 
Sally's small form curled up in his lap. She had lain her head against his 
chest and she looked like she was sleeping.
	"Okay, you two, listen up," said Stonetree, as he approached 
their desks from his office. "I just got off the phone with Children's 
Services. They can't get anyone over to pick her up until noon, at the 
earliest. We'll have to keep her until then."
	"Noon," said Nick, in disbelief. "I can't stick around until noon."
	"Yeah, I know," said Stonetree, eyeing Nick speculatively. "Look, 
it's almost morning. Until Children's Services show up, she's in our 
custody and we need to protect her. That means she stays with you two."
	"What do you mean, stays with us?" asked Schanke.
	"Just that, detective." Turning to look at Nick, he continued, "take 
her back to your place. That's where I told Children's Services they could 
find her."
	"What am I suppose to do? I can't take care of her," argued Nick. 
"I don't know anything about children."
	"Sure you do," replied Stonetree. "After all, you were one once 
yourself, right?"
	"That was a long time ago," replied Nick, thinking to himself how 
long ago 800 years was. He could barely remember being mortal, let 
alone being a child.
	"Schanke will help," said Stonetree.
	"I will?" asked Schanke.
	"Sure. You're going with him," stated Stonetree. "He's your 
partner, and she's in protective custody until Children's Services show 
up." Turning to look at both of them, he said, "don't let anything happen to 
her, understand?"
	"Yeah, we understand," said Schanke, resigned. Turning to Nick, 
he said, "I better call Myra and let her know I'll be going home with you 
this morning."
	Nick just took a deep breath and sighed his agreement. This was 
not how he expected this night to turn out. Standing, he shifted Sally to 
his left shoulder and walked over to wait for Schanke.
	"Okay, partner. We're all set," said Schanke, turning to Nick as 
he hung up the phone. "Let's roll."
	"I have to go to the bathroom," said a quiet voice into Nick's ear.
	"Skank?" said Nick, turning to his partner, with a 'what in the hell 
am I suppose to do about this' look on his face.
	"Yeah, I heard. Go ahead and take her, then we'll go. No big 
deal," said Schanke, looking innocently at his partner.
	"I can't take her," said Nick anxiously.
	"You're gonna have to," said Schanke, grinning at Nick's obvious 
aversion.
	"I have to go," she said again, tugging on Nick's collar.
	Turning to Sally, he replied, "okay. Give us just a sec." He put her 
down so she was standing next to him. She leaned against him with one 
hand clutching his pants leg, and looked up at him expectantly. He was 
just getting ready to say something more to Schanke, when Norma 
walked over from the administration desk.
	"Here, Nick. I'll take her," she said. At Nick's grateful look, she 
bent down to ask Sally, "you want me to take you?"
	In response, Sally turned and wrapped her arms tightly around 
Nick's leg, and pressed her face against him. It was obvious she wasn't 
about to let herself be separated from him.
	"Sorry, I tried," she said to Nick, as she stood up.
	"Thanks anyway," he replied, resigning himself to the task at 
hand. "Okay, let's get this over with," he muttered, as he picked her back 
up. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her 
face against his shoulder.
	He walked out of the office and down the hall towards the 
restrooms, with Schanke following closely behind. Just as he started to 
enter, Schanke hollered, "Nick. Other door."
	Turning to Schanke, he said, "what difference does it make?"
	"You can't take a little girl into the men's room. You have to take 
her to the ladies room," he explained to his partner's glaring face.
	"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" sniped Nick.
	"Yeah, I am," smirked Schanke, as he knocked on the ladies 
room door. Getting no answer, he pushed the door open and held it for 
Nick. "I'll guard the front."
	"Do that," ordered Nick brusquely, as he brushed past Schanke 
into the ladies room.
	He headed towards the first stall and set Sally down in front of it. 
He pushed the door open for her. She just looked up at him and grabbed 
hold of his pants leg. "Go on. I'll just wait over here," he said, indicating 
the area by the sinks.
	When she made no move to go in, he started to move away from 
her. She cried, "no," and grabbed him tighter.
	Kneeling down in front of her, he said, "I'm not going anywhere. 
I'll be right here, I promise."
	"Don't leave me," she said softly, her eyes starting to water.
	"I won't leave you," he said, sighing in resignation. "Let's go." He 
took her hand and led her into the stall. After watching her for a moment, 
he said, "well?"
	"You have to close the door," she explained.
	That done, he said, "okay. Now what?"
	"Turn around, and don't watch," she answered, waiting for him to 
comply.
	He turned around, closed his eyes, and put his hand up to his 
forehead. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He felt Sally let go of his 
leg and move slightly away from him.
	"You won't leave?" she asked hesitantly.
	"I won't leave," he assured her. He stood there and waited for 
her.
	When she was finished, she took hold of his leg and announced, 
"I'm done. You can look now."
	Turning around with relief, he saw that she was indeed, quite 
done. He pulled open the stall door and led her out into the larger area. 
As he started for the door, she said, "I have to wash my hands."
	"Of course," he replied wearily, changing direction and heading 
for the sinks.
	She couldn't reach the water faucets, so he turned them on for 
her. As she busied herself with the soap and water, Nick took a moment 
to glance in the mirror. His eyes were their normal shade of brilliant blue, 
without a trace of the gold or red that would indicate a transformation into 
his vampiric self. But he thought he looked tired and drawn, and he still 
had a long day ahead. Turning to the sink in front of him, he turned on the 
water. He washed his hands, then ran them still dripping, over his face 
and through his hair, before reaching for a paper towel. As he dried his 
hands and face, he saw Sally staring intently at him. Then she pulled her 
hands from the water and copied his movements almost exactly. Smiling, 
he handed her a towel to dry her hands and face. She smiled back.
	"So, you ready to go?" he asked, kneeling down to her level.
	She moved closer to him and seriously asked, "do I have to call 
you Detective Knight?"
	Replying seriously, he said, "no, you can call me Nick."
	She put her hand on his shoulder, and wrapped her fist around a 
handful of his shirt. Looking directly into his eyes, she asked, "Nick, are 
my mommy and daddy gone forever?"
	He hesitated, as he wasn't sure how to answer her. She was only 
a little girl, but he was pretty sure she knew what had happened. He 
wasn't really sure how much she actually saw, but he decided it would be 
pointless to try to couch the truth from her. "I'm sorry, Sally, but I'm afraid 
they're gone. They won't be coming back," he said, as gently as he could.
	She looked down at the floor, accepting his words. Her hand 
tightened on his shirt. She breathed a small sigh, then looked back up 
and asked him, "did they really go to hell?"
	Shocked at her question, he asked, "why would you think that?"
	"That's what that man said," she whispered, looking back at the 
floor.
	"What exactly did he say?" asked Nick, knowing she was talking 
about the man who killed her parents. When she didn't answer him, he 
placed his hand on her chin and pulled her face up to look at him. "Sally, 
this is important. Tell me what you heard." She continued to stare at him, 
not speaking. Her chin was quivering and she looked like she was about 
to start crying again. Calmly, and soothingly, he spoke to her. "Sally, look 
at me. I'm not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe 
here. It's okay to tell me what you heard." He could hear her heart 
beating as he spoke to her. The thumping increasing as she 
remembered. His voice calmed her.
	"I have passed through the third circle and am sending you 
onward to hell to announce my coming," she recited in a monotone.
	Surprise registered on Nick's face, and he looked away, breaking 
eye contact with Sally. She immediately began to cry. He pulled her close 
and hugged her to his chest. "It's okay, Sally. Everything's going to be 
okay. You're safe now." His words had a soothing effect and her cries 
subsided. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly.
	Nick looked up as the door opened and Schanke poked his head 
in. "Everything all right in here?" he asked concerned.
	"We're just leaving," answered Nick, picking Sally up as he stood.
	"What's wrong?" he asked, as Nick brushed past him in the 
doorway.
	"Later," answered Nick, indicating Sally's distress.
	"Yeah, right. Look, we'd better hit the road. It's almost dawn," 
said Schanke, hurrying down the hall in front of Nick.
	"We're right behind you," said Nick, following after.

	Sally had fallen asleep during the drive, but had woken as they 
stepped off the elevator into the loft. Her head lay on Nick's shoulder as 
she looked around at her new surroundings. Schanke headed straight for 
the kitchen and started opening cupboards.
	Turning to Nick he said, "I don't suppose you have any food here, 
do you?"
	Looking slightly irritated, Nick replied, "no. I wasn't expecting 
company."
	"Seeing as she hasn't eaten, and I'm starving, I'll go out and get 
us something. What do you feel like?" asked Schanke, looking at Nick.
	"Feel like?" replied Nick, confused over what Schanke was 
asking him.
	"You know," said Schanke, shaking his head. "Food. What do 
you feel like eating?"
	"Nothing for me, I'm fine," answered Nick, walking into the living 
room area.
	"What do you mean, fine. You haven't eaten all night. I know you 
got this weird diet and all, but you must want something," said Schanke 
curiously.
	Picking up the remote, he pressed the button to close the steel 
shutters that would block the approaching daylight. "I have some stuff in 
the fridge. Don't worry about me," answered Nick.
	"Oh, yeah. Like what?" asked Schanke, heading for the fridge. 
He got the door open before Nick could get to the kitchen. "Let's see, 
what do we have. Wine, wine, wine, and what's this?" he asked, picking 
up a container full of some liquid brown stuff.
	"That's a protein shake," answered Nick.
	"It looks disgusting," replied Schanke, shaking his head as he put 
it back. Heading for the elevator, he said, "I'm going to the store and I'll 
be right back." Pausing outside the elevator, he asked Nick, "will you be 
okay while I'm gone?"
	"Yeah, we'll be fine. Go ahead."
	As soon as Schanke was gone, Nick pulled open the refrigerator 
door. He started to reach for the protein shake, then at the last minute, 
grabbed a 'wine' bottle. Sally had her head laying on his shoulder, and 
was being very quiet. If she was going to remain this close to him all day, 
he knew a protein shake just wasn't going to cut it, especially not after the 
night he just had.
	Opening a cupboard, he grabbed a large mug and set it on the 
counter. Picking up the bottle, he pulled the cork out with his teeth and 
spit it onto the counter. Glancing quickly at Sally, he saw that she had her 
eyes closed. He sensed she wasn't really sleeping, but she seemed 
content for the moment. He poured a liberal amount from his bottle into 
the mug. Setting the bottle down, he picked up the mug. He turned up his 
nose as a whiff of the cow's blood registered on his senses, then taking a 
deep breath, he drank it all quickly. He set down the mug and poured 
himself a refill.
	He was leaning with his back against the kitchen counter, about 
halfway finished with his third mug, when Sally said, "he drank from a 
bottle."
	Nick knew she was talking about the killer. "He did?" he asked 
tentatively, seeing if she would continue talking on her own.
	"He was drinking blood," she said, lifting her head to look at him. 
He was surprised and didn't know what to say. "Are you drinking blood?" 
she asked, looking into his mug.
	He quickly pulled it from her view, and said, "why would you think 
that?"
	She just shrugged and said, "it's red. He drank red stuff. It was 
the same red stuff he painted on the doors. He said it was 'blood of the 
lamb'."
	Nick knew the doors had been painted in blood. He had been so 
overwhelmed by the smell, that he had spent most of his time trying to 
block it from his senses. He hadn't bothered to notice what kind of blood. 
He and the others had assumed the blood was from the Barnett's. "Did 
he tell you this? Was he talking to you?" asked Nick, confused and 
curious.
	She shook her head. "I was hiding at the top of the stairs. I saw 
him in the living room. I don't know who he was talking to, he was just 
talking."
	"Did he know you were there?"
	"He heard me crying," she whispered, burying her head against 
his shoulder once again. "I ran and hid."
	"It's okay," he said, trying to soothe her. "You did the right thing."
	She settled down against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She 
had to be really tired. She'd been awake most all night. When he had 
found her earlier, she had been hiding in the crawlspace for over six 
hours, terrified. He was surprised that she was able to function at all. He 
supposed her 'recovery' was mostly due to his influencing of her. First, 
when he had coaxed her out of the crawlspace, and then in the bathroom 
when he got her to tell him what the killer said.
	Since she seemed to be dozing, although not asleep, he quickly 
finished his drink. He rinsed out the glass and put the bottle away before 
Schanke got back. He carried her over to the couch, where he sat down 
and turned on the television. He turned the volume down to where only 
he could hear, and watched the morning news. The leading segment was 
on the Barnett killings. The report only said that there had been a double 
murder in one of the higher rent areas last night. No details of the crime 
were given, and no victims names were released. A sketchy report, at 
best.
	Nick closed his eyes and let his head lay back against the cool 
leather of the couch. He was just starting to doze off when he heard the 
elevator engage. Rubbing his eyes, and telling himself to wake up, he 
stood up just as Schanke emerged into the loft.
	"Hey, how's she doing?" asked Schanke, indicating the small girl 
wrapped around his partner's neck.
	"She's still awake," replied Nick. "What did you get?" he asked 
curiously.
	"I picked up some stuff that I know Jenny and her friends like. 
Mainly milk and cereal. Why don't you take her over to the table and I'll 
bring it over," he suggested.
	Nodding, Nick walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. 
Sally had opened her eyes and was watching Schanke. She turned 
around, sitting on Nick's lap, facing the table. Schanke came over and 
placed a bowl and spoon in front of her. Nick looked at the contents of the 
bowl and made a face. He gave Schanke a questioning look.
	"It's what kids eat," he said, defensively.
	"Isn't that an awful lot of sugar?" asked Nick, skeptical that this is 
what she should be fed.
	By that time, Sally had picked up a spoon and was starting to eat. 
Looking vindicated, Schanke gestured towards her and said, "she seems 
to like it just fine."
	Nick just rolled his eyes and turned back to Sally. A few moments 
later, Schanke joined them at the table. "You're eating it too?" asked 
Nick, a slightly incredulous tone in his voice.
	"Hey, if it's good enough for the kid, who am I to complain? And 
besides," he said, in between mouthfuls, "it's a heck of a lot better than 
that <stuff> you drink."
	Nick just shook his head and sat there in silence, while his 
partner and Sally ate what he thought was a disgusting mixture of milk, 
sugar, and who knows what.
	After they were done eating, Schanke cleared the table and put 
the dishes in the sink. "We'll clean these up later. I'm ready to hit the hay. 
What say you, partner?" he asked, turning to Nick. "How do you want to 
do this?"
	"Simple. You take the couch, and I don't," said Nick, heading for 
the stairs. "Blankets are in the linen closet over there. Wake me when 
Children's Services arrive, okay?"
	"Yeah, sure. No problem," said Schanke, watching Nick climb the 
stairs to his bedroom, carrying Sally with him.
	When Nick got to his bedroom, he pulled a large quilt out of the 
closet and threw it on the bed. He sat down in the center of the bed and 
set Sally down on his lap. He pulled her shoes off and tossed them on the 
floor. He did the same with his. Then, gathering up the quilt, he laid back 
on the bed, Sally beside him, and pulled the quilt over them both. He 
closed his eyes as he felt the small girl burrow in close to him and settle 
down. He could sense her falling asleep and allowed himself to do the 
same.

	Schanke woke to the sound of a buzzer. It took him a moment to 
remember where he was, then he climbed off the couch and walked over 
to the security monitor, mumbling, "yeah, yeah. I'm coming. Hold your 
horses."
	Looking in the monitor, he saw two women standing on the 
sidewalk. Pressing the speaker button, he said, "hello. Can I help you?"
	The older lady replied, "yes. We're looking for Detective Knight."
	"And you are?" asked Schanke, figuring these must be the 
Children's Services people.
	"I'm Mrs. Foster and this is Dr. Reynolds. We're with Children's 
Services."
	"Hold your identification up to the camera," he requested. They 
took turns holding up their ID. Satisfied, Schanke replied, "I'll buzz you in. 
Take the elevator up to the second floor."
	Walking to the foot of the stairs, Schanke yelled, "yo, Nick. We've 
got company." He waited a moment before starting to yell again, but 
about that time the elevator arrived. He walked over to greet their guests 
as they walked off the elevator.
	Mrs. Foster held out her hand and asked, "you're Detective 
Knight?"
	"No," he replied laughing, mostly to himself. "I'm his partner, 
Detective Schanke. Knight's upstairs with the little girl, Sally Barnett. I 
think they're still sleeping." Upon seeing the curious look on their faces, 
he explained, "we work graveyard."
	"Oh, I see," said Mrs. Foster. "I apologize that we are so late, but 
it took us awhile to make the proper arrangements for Sally. We assume 
she must be highly traumatized by events from last night, the poor child."
	"Yeah, it was pretty rough on her. My partner's the one who 
found her hiding in the house after everyone else had gone. She's kind of 
latched on to him. Won't let him out of her sight. Starts crying. Are you 
prepared to deal with that?" he asked, curious to see how prepared they 
really were.
	"Yes. Captain Stonetree informed us of the situation. That's why I 
have Dr. Reynolds with me. Dr. Reynolds is a psychologist specializing 
with traumatized children. We're hoping Sally will be able to transfer her 
emotional dependence to her. It will make this much easier for the child," 
explained Mrs. Foster.
	Glancing at the stairs, and not seeing or hearing any movement, 
Schanke figured Nick must still be asleep. "Let me go get them," he said. 
"Make yourselves comfortable." He pulled the blankets off the couch and 
tossed them onto the floor, out of the way. "I'll be right back."
	He climbed the stairs and walked into Nick's bedroom, as Sally 
sat up and looked at him, wide awake. However, Nick was still sound 
asleep. "Hey, honey, did you sleep well?" he asked sweetly. She didn't 
respond, but continued to look at him. "We have some people downstairs 
to see you. What say we wake Nicky boy here and go down and say 
hello. What do you say?"
	She still didn't answer, but turned to look down at Nick. She 
cuddled close to him and laid her head on his shoulder. She continued to 
look at Schanke, and finally said, "he's tired."
	"Yeah, I know he is. But we need to wake him up anyway, okay," 
he explained. Looking at his partner, he said loudly, "hey, Nick. Wake up, 
buddy." There was no response. Schanke grabbed his ankle and gently 
shook him, saying again, "come on, Nick. Rise and shine." Still no 
response. Sally sat up and looked down at him. Schanke muttered, "I 
swear, he sleeps like the dead." 
	Sally gasped, and looked at Schanke. Realizing what he had 
said, and what she was probably thinking, he quickly assured her, "no, 
no, honey, it's okay. He's not dead, honest." Walking over to the other 
side of the bed, Schanke said to Sally, "watch this." He grabbed hold of 
Nick's pillow and yanked it out from under his head. Nick came awake 
with a start, and leaped away from the 'supposed' attack.
	He quickly suppressed the growl emanating from his chest, and 
closed his eyes tightly, willing them back to their normal hue. Still in a 
guttural tone, he snapped, "Schanke! That wasn't funny," glaring at his 
partner's laughing face.
	"Sure it was," he replied. "Besides, I was just showing Sally here, 
that you weren't really dead."
	Nick calmed considerably as he noticed Sally clinging to his arm. 
"Don't do that again," he said to Schanke. He then turned to Sally and 
said, "everything's all right." He looked up as Schanke shoved her shoes 
at him. Nick threw him a questioning look.
	"Company is downstairs," he explained.
	"Yeah, right," replied Nick, taking the shoes. Looking at his 
bedside clock, he said, "they're late."
	"I know, but they seem to be pretty okay. The main lady is Mrs. 
Foster. She's got a, um, doctor with her that she thinks can help."
	Nick finished helping Sally put her shoes on, then grabbing his off 
the floor, pulled them on as well. Turning to Sally, he held out his arms 
and she came right to him. He picked her up, then turning to Schanke 
said, "lead the way."

===
CHAPTER FOUR


	They had arrived at the precinct early tonight. Children's 
Services, mainly in the name of Mrs. Foster and Dr. Reynolds, had been 
at the loft for well over an hour before they finally left, taking little Sally 
with them. She had been crying, and was very upset to be separated 
from Nick. She did seem to like Dr. Reynolds, and Nick didn't feel bad 
about her going. He was in no position to take care of a little girl, even if 
he wanted to, which he didn't.
	For now, Mrs. Foster had assured them that Sally would be well 
taken care of. She was going to be placed in a high security facility, as 
the police had concerns that the killer may try to come after her. And this 
particular facility offered her the best protection. Mrs. Foster was also 
able to tell them that Sally had a number of relatives that may possibly 
take her in sometime later, after her situation was more resolved. She 
would not be an orphan, which was comforting to the two detectives.
	Neither of them were able to return to sleep after Mrs. Foster left. 
Instead, they sat talking about the case until it was time to go into work. 
Nick brought Schanke up to speed on the conversation he had with Sally 
in the bathroom, but didn't mention the other one where she had said that 
she thought the killer was drinking blood. That was a little too close to 
home, and it had him concerned over who, or what, this killer may be. 
Even though he thought he had sensed someone watching him on a 
couple occasions, he hadn't gotten the impression this someone was a 
vampire.
	These last few years, he had worked so hard to repress his 
vampiric tendencies, he was now doubting his ability to accurately sense 
another. At the crime scene, he hadn't even suspected that the blood 
around the doors wasn't human. Although it hadn't been confirmed, one 
way or another yet, he should be able to tell for certain. He shouldn't 
need to wait for forensics to tell him what kind of blood it was.
	Sitting at his desk, he logged onto the network. The first thing he 
checked was the results of his query from the night before. The results 
were in, and it looked like his request had registered a number of hits. He 
wrote down the filename on a piece of paper, then quickly scanned his 
email. Nothing to interest him there.
	Turning to Schanke, he said, "I'm going to go check on 
something and I'll be right back. Did you ever get a forensics report last 
night?"
	"Not yet, but where are you going?" asked Schanke.
	"Just see what you can get and we'll go over it when I get back," 
said Nick, turning to leave.
	"Whatever you say," replied Schanke, in resignation. It was 
obvious Nick didn't want to tell him where he was going. "You will leave 
your phone on though, won't you?" he shouted after him.
	"Yes, you can call me," said Nick, as he paused at the 
administration desk. Turning to the young woman behind the desk, he 
said, "hey, Norma. Can I get you to print this out for me?"
	"Sure, Nick," she said, taking the piece of paper he handed her. 
"I should have this on your desk by the time you get back."
	"Thanks," he said, as he hurried out.

	The music bombarded his mind as soon as he walked in the 
door. The soft sensuous rhythms pulled at him. He stood quietly for a 
moment, absorbing the feel of it, before walking down the ramp towards 
the bar.
	The Raven was not crowded tonight. He could sense most of the 
patrons were of the immortal variety, and he could feel their gaze 
following him as he slowly crossed the dance floor, and headed towards 
the dark-haired beauty who owned the club, Janette DuCharme. He had 
known her his entire vampire life, she being the one who introduced him 
to LaCroix. She had been his friend, sister, and sometimes lover for the 
past 800 years. He still was as drawn to her, as he had been that night 
long ago, when she had first seduced him.
	He had only been in the club a few times since moving to 
Toronto, the first time just a few short months ago. It had been good to 
see Janette again, but after what happened later with LaCroix, he had felt 
too guilty to come again so soon. He was afraid she would know what 
had happened, and blame him for it. Although, in his mind, it was all 
LaCroix' fault. But the bottom line was, he didn't want Janette to hate him 
for what he had done, so he had been avoiding her.
	Walking up to where she sat, he quietly said, "hello, Janette."
	Looking up at him, she smiled. "Nicolas. It has been quite some 
time. I take it you have been busy, no?" she asked, her soft French 
accent washing over him, as she held her hand out to him.
	He quickly captured her hand in his, and raised it to meet his lips, 
placing a gentle kiss upon it. "It is good to see you," he said, letting a little 
of how much he missed her show in his smile. "You look as beautiful as 
always."
	Smiling knowingly, she replied, "as do you, my handsome 
crusader." She looked into his eyes, and saw his passion simmering, just 
below the surface. But she knew that was not why he was here. "May I 
offer you some refreshment?" she asked, indicating her own glass.
	Being around Janette always intensified his appetites, whatever 
they may be at the time. He had not fed this evening, as he and Schanke 
had been dealing with Sally and Mrs. Foster, and afterwards, Schanke 
was still there and he had not had the opportunity. He was hungry, and 
he looked longingly at her glass.
	"Miklos," she said, indicating to her bartender that she wished 
another glass.
	With the reality of his desire thrust upon him, he quickly said, "no. 
I'm not thirsty."
	"You are sure, mon cher? There is nothing here that you want?" 
she asked suggestively, the double entendre evident in her manner. 
When he failed to answer, she waved Miklos away. "Nicolas, you are 
here for a reason, are you not?" she asked directly.
	"Yes," he answered. "I need your help." He looked at her to gage 
the affect his words were having. She looked at him, concern written 
across her face. "It's this case I'm working on," he said hesitantly.
	"Case?" she asked uncomprehendingly. "What is a case?"
	"You know, my job. I'm a homicide detective. We work on cases," 
he explained, smiling. He saw the understanding come across her 
features.
	"Ah, yes. You are working a case. For this little hobby of yours. Is 
that it?" she asked, slightly amused.
	"It's not a hobby, Janette. It's my job, and I take it seriously," he 
avowed.
	"You take <everything> seriously, mon cher," she replied, turning 
to face the bar. She picked up a cigarette and placed it between her lips. 
Miklos appeared almost out of nowhere, to light it for her, then just as 
quickly, disappeared. She inhaled deeply, then turning to face the dance 
floor, sensuously blew the smoke out between her lips. "I remember a 
time when this was not always so."
	Nick stood there mesmerized by her actions, as she always had 
this affect on him. She turned back to him, a knowing smile on her lips. 
She was well aware the influence she had on him, as he also had on her.
	"This is important, Janette," he said, trying to bring his 
concentration back around to why he had come in the first place.
	In a bored voice, Janette turned to him and said, "very well, 
Nicolas. What is so very important?"
	Hesitatingly, he said, "there is a murderer I am looking for. I need 
to know if he is one of us."
	Janette just looked at him, mildly surprised. "You mean you do 
not know?" Nick just looked at her without answering. After a short 
pause, she asked sarcastically, "tell me. How can you not know?"
	"I can sense him, sort of. He doesn't feel like one of us. But he 
was seen drinking blood at the murder scene," he explained, obviously 
confused. "I need you to tell me if you know anything."
	She could see the self-doubt on his face, but she refused to 
accept it. "Nicolas, if you have sensed him, and he doesn't feel like one of 
us, then you have your answer," she replied firmly.
	"I need to know for certain," he said abashedly, as he looked 
towards the floor.
	"You do know for certain," she said sharply. He looked up at her, 
his unsurety evident upon his face. "Nicolas, what is wrong with you?"
	Getting defensive, he replied, "nothing is wrong with me. I just 
thought you could help, that's all."
	"You have been playing in your mortal world too long. You no 
longer trust what your senses tell you," she admonished him. "You are 
not one of them, and you never will be. If you have sensed this 
<murderer>, and you do not think he is one of us, then he is not."
	"You don't understand," he replied.
	"I understand perfectly," she responded resolutely.
	They just stared at each other for the longest time, neither giving 
in. Finally, Janette softened and reached out her hand to caress his 
cheek. "Oh, Nicolas. Why do you do this to yourself?"
	He captured her hand in his, and held it against his cheek for a 
brief moment, before pushing it away. "I'm doing nothing to myself, 
Janette. I am only doing what must be done. It's my job to catch these 
murderers, before they kill more innocent people. And that's what I'm 
going to do," he said impassionedly. "Are you going to help me or not?"
	Staring into his eyes, she felt herself swallowed by his passion, 
buried deep inside. He has always been this way, she reminded herself. 
That is one of the reasons she has always loved him so. Sighing audibly, 
she said, "of course I will help you, mon cher."
	"Thank you, Janette. You will tell me if you hear anything?" he 
asked, grateful for her help.
	"Yes. I will call you should I hear anything," she said, smiling 
openly to him.
	"I have to go," he said, smiling winningly at her.
	His smile could always cause excitement to leap in her heart. 
She took a swallow from her glass, then turned her face up towards him. 
"A la prochaine, mon cheri."
	Leaning in, he gently brushed his lips against hers. It would be so 
easy to lose himself with her, as he had so many times in the past. He felt 
her suck lightly on his lower lip, and he pulled back, slightly startled. He 
ran his tongue over a spot of moisture left lingering on his mouth. It tasted 
of bloodwine. His eyes darted to her glass, then back to her face. She 
was smiling at him, knowing full well the effect she was having. Taking a 
deep breath, he forced the hunger down. He had to leave before the 
temptation became too much. He didn't trust himself to speak. He leaned 
in and kissed her on the cheek, just as she turned her head to the side. 
His lips close to her ear, he whispered, "later." 
	He pushed himself away from the bar, turning his back on her 
and walked quickly across the dance floor, the curious eyes of the club's 
patrons following his every move. He was a relative stranger to them, as 
he did not readily mingle with the members of their community. Janette 
has been here for years, but him they've rarely seen. He was a mystery 
to them, but obviously not to Janette. They could see her watch him as 
he departed. The look on her face obviously not that of a stranger.
	Janette watched him leave, his final word resounding in her 
head. Later. How could one word have so many meanings? A request, a 
promise, a desire, or all of these. She did not know. Most likely, neither 
did he. He was gone, but she knew he would return. He always did, 
sooner or later. Sighing, she requested another drink and turned her 
attentions back to the dance floor.

	Nick walked out of the elevator onto the main floor of his loft and 
made a beeline for the refrigerator. Pulling the door open, he grabbed the 
closest bottle. Extracting the cork with his teeth, he spit it into the sink. 
Placing the bottle against his mouth, he upended it and quickly drained 
the remaining contents. The bottle had been slightly over half full, but was 
more than enough to quench his thirst.
	After leaving the Raven, he knew he couldn't go back to work 
without feeding. Before going to see her, he had almost forgotten how her 
mere presence could bring out the beast in him. It was never that bad 
when they lived together, just when they came together again after 
having been apart for so long. He could feel the pull between them and 
had to fight hard to maintain his control.
	Of course, it didn't help at all that he was living in a constant state 
of denial. He had immersed himself in the mortal world. He lived, worked, 
and played, all in their world. He hadn't socialized with one of his kind in 
years. When the mortal world became more than he could handle, he 
simply ensconced himself in solitude until he regained his equilibrium. 
There were times when this happened more often than not.
	And then there's the blood. Always the blood. Many times it 
seemed as if he was more consumed with the lust for blood now, then 
when he wasn't denying himself. He had switched to animal blood a long 
time ago. Cow was the easiest to get, so that's what he normally drank. It 
did nothing to satisfy his cravings, but it dulled the hunger. When he kept 
his mind occupied, he could pretend that the cravings didn't exist. That 
worked most of the time. Most of the time, but not always.
	He looked out the window and gazed at the city lights. The sky 
was dark and foreboding. The perfect weather for a crime such as the 
one he was currently trying to solve. The killer was out there in the city 
somewhere, and Nick knew he was going to kill again. He just knew.

--- Start flashback ---
Florence, late 13th c.

	Nicholas came bursting into the villa, shouting, "LaCroix. 
LaCroix." Entering the main living area, he found LaCroix seated in front 
of the fire, reading a book.
	He looked up as his son burst into the room, curious as to the 
nature of this exuberance. "Nicholas, what is it?" he asked.
	"I found him, LaCroix. I found him," exclaimed Nicholas.
	"And who is that?" he inquired.
	"The murderer," he answered, his tone of voice indicating that 
LaCroix should have already known that was who he meant.
	Putting down his book, LaCroix turned his full attentions to his 
overly excited son. "Indeed. And where is this murderer now?" he asked.
	The excitement seemed to drain from his body as he replied, "I 
am not certain."
	"You did say you had found him, did you not?"
	Hesitantly, Nicholas replied, "yes. But I did not exactly find 
<him>."
	With a touch of consternation crossing his features, LaCroix 
asked, "what <exactly> did you find?"
	Resuming his excitement, Nicholas proclaimed, "he is one of us."
	LaCroix stared at Nicholas for a long moment, then simply stated, 
"nonsense."
	Stunned at LaCroix' response, Nicholas assured him, "but he is. I 
sensed this to be so."
	"Did you actually see this person?" asked LaCroix.
	"No. But he killed again tonight, and I arrived just shortly 
thereafter. His presence still lingered in the vicinity," explained Nicholas. 
"I sensed him there. He has to be one of us."
	"Nicholas, I would know if there were another in the city. And I 
would most certainly know if this other were indiscriminately killing, and 
leaving bodies laying about. I assure you, it is not one of us," said 
LaCroix reasonably.
	"There are over 100,000 people living in this city. How can you 
know them all?" asked Nicholas skeptically.
	"I do not need to know them all to know this one is not one of us," 
replied LaCroix firmly.
	"But, LaCroix, I felt him. How do you explain that?" challenged 
Nicholas.
	"Very well, Nicholas," said LaCroix, rising from his chair. "You will 
take me to where you sensed this other, and we shall both see."

	The two vampires set down just north of the Ponte Vecchio 
bridge, on the north side of the Arno river. Nicholas led LaCroix down the 
street and into a nearby alley. The body had not yet been discovered and 
still lay where Nicholas had last seen it.
	"How is it that you discovered this body so quickly?" asked 
LaCroix, more curious after seeing the deserted area in which it lay.
	"I was hunting, just over there," he said, indicating an area further 
west of their location. "I heard the man scream and I came to investigate. 
By the time I got here, the murderer was just gone, and the man lay 
dying."
	As Nicholas started to near the dead body, LaCroix reached his 
arm out across Nicholas chest, barring his further advance. When 
Nicholas looked questioningly up at him, LaCroix asked, "did you go 
anywhere near this man, as he lay dying?"
	"No. I stopped over there. The blood was gushing from his neck, 
but I sensed the other nearby. I went to look for him, but could not find 
him. That is when I returned home to tell you what I had found," he 
explained.
	"Very good," said LaCroix. "Stay clear of the body and do not 
walk near it," he further ordered.
	"Why? He is dead."
	"Can you not see that the ground is covered with his blood. You 
do not wish it to get on your shoes or your clothing. You do not want to 
leave bloody footprints around a body that you are not responsible for 
killing. It is an unnecessary risk," he lectured.
	Taking a step back, Nicholas watched as LaCroix surveyed the 
area. "Do you sense him?" he finally asked, tired of the waiting.
	Taking a deep breath, LaCroix regarded Nicholas carefully. 
Nicholas became uncomfortable under this scrutiny. There was obviously 
something he had missed, that LaCroix was about to point out to him. 
"Better yet, Nicholas, do you still sense this other?"
	Confused at the question, Nicholas just look at LaCroix strangely. 
"I don't understand."
	"If one of us were responsible for this, his presence would still be 
lingering. So tell me Nicholas, can you still sense his presence?" asked 
LaCroix amicably.
	Nicholas tore his eyes away from LaCroix and looked around the 
area. He closed his eyes and concentrated on finding the telltale 
presence of the other. He could sense nothing. Confused, he opened his 
eyes and turned back to LaCroix. "I swear I sensed him earlier."
	"Yes, and how about now?" asked LaCroix patiently.
	"Now, I sense nothing," replied Nicholas, surprised at this 
admission. "I don't understand."
	"It is simple, Nicholas. What you sensed earlier was not one of 
us," he explained.
	"I sensed something. What was it?" he interjected anxiously.
	"Be patient, mon fils, and I will explain," he said. When he was 
sure he had Nicholas' attention, he continued. "The presence you felt 
belonged to that of a mortal." He raised his hand to quell Nicholas' 
protestations. "There are a few mortals that emit this vibration. It is very 
weak, and if you will pay close attention, you will notice that it is quite 
different than one of ours. Knowing now that this exists, you will not make 
the same mistake again."
	"If I can sense this mortal's vibration, can he sense us?" asked 
Nicholas.
	"Not exactly," said LaCroix tentatively. "The mortal cannot sense 
our presence, but those with this ability will generally find themselves 
drawn to us. They will not understand why, but they will feel a slight 
attraction."
	"Is this not dangerous to us?" asked Nicholas.
	"That would depend," said LaCroix, musing aloud. "In a case 
such as this, I would tend to think it not in our best interest to have this 
particular mortal about. I think perhaps it is time I assist you in your 
amusement."
	Nicholas smiled at this last. This should be great fun, he thought.

--- End Flashback ---

	Nick knew Janette was right. He knew the killer wasn't a vampire. 
He had been trying so hard to pretend that his vampiric abilities weren't 
there. He thought if he could make them disappear, he would be a step 
closer to regaining his mortality. Not only was he no closer; his senses 
felt dull and he wasn't even sure if he could trust them.
	Sighing, he looked at the clock and realized it was later than he 
expected. Schanke's probably climbing the walls by now, he thought 
amused. He quickly grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

	Sure enough. As soon as he walked into the office, Schanke was 
all over him. "Do you realize how long you've been gone? Since when 
does a couple of hours constitute 'I'll be right back'?" demanded 
Schanke, following him to his desk.
	"Ease up, Skank. I'm here now, so what do you have?" asked 
Nick, trying to divert his partner's attention off him and back to the case.
	"You're not going to tell me, are you?" stated Schanke, glaring 
angrily at Nick, who just stubbornly stared right back. "Okay. Fine. You 
want to know what we have? Here." Schanke grabbed a small stack of 
files from his desk and plopped them loudly on Nick's desk. "And while 
you're playing catch up, I'm going to go get something to eat." Schanke 
grabbed his coat and started walking off.
	"Skank," called Nick, to his retreating back, a look of 
bemusement on his face.
	Stopping and turning around, Schanke replied, "and no, I won't 
be <right back>." He then proceeded to storm out of the office.
	Shaking his head, Nick turned to the papers in front of him. It was 
the preliminary forensics reports. They had collected a lot of evidence 
and were still sorting through most of it. Nick read through the 
documents, not really finding much to go on. The reports did confirm that 
the blood around the door frames was not human. It was definitely animal 
blood, but they hadn't determined which yet.
	They had also gotten footprints. Whoever the killer was, he had 
stepped in the blood on the floor and then tracked it through the house, 
as had Officers Petrie and Harris when they first arrived on the scene. 
The preliminary reports confirmed what they all thought anyway; that the 
killer was male. They were going to see if they could determine a height 
and weight from the impressions.
	It was going to take them awhile to sift through the rest of the 
samples collected. They still hoped to come up with hair or fiber samples. 
They didn't expect to have a more finalized report for a few days yet.
	In continuing to sift through the papers, Nick noticed there was 
no preliminary autopsy report. Natalie must not have had it ready when 
these came over. Nick decided that as soon as Schanke returned, they 
should head over to the morgue and see what she had. They usually got 
better information when dropping by than by waiting for the reports 
anyway.
	"Hey, Nick. Did you find that report I left you?" asked Norma, as 
she passed by his desk, always looking for an excuse to talk to him.
	He looked up to see where she was pointing. Seeing the report, 
he picked it up. "Yeah, thanks," he said, smiling at her before he started 
flipping through the pages.
	"Sure, any time," she said, returning to her desk, disappointed 
that he seemed more interested in the report.
	Nick had gone through the report a number of times. He had 
marked five unsolved cases that he had asked Norma to pull the files on. 
She had brought them to him almost immediately, and he had been 
sitting at his desk sifting through them when Schanke returned.
	"Yo, partner. Still here I see," remarked Schanke dryly.
	Ignoring Schanke's attitude, Nick said, "hey, Skank. Take a quick 
look through these files, then let's go see Natalie and find out what she's 
come up with."
	His curiosity piqued, Schanke sat down and picked up the first 
file. "Hey, Nick. This is pretty old. What are we looking at here?"
	"I ran a computer search for similar unsolved cases going back 
five years, and I thought these particular ones needed a closer look," he 
explained.
	"But this one is three years old," remarked Schanke skeptically.
	"If our guy's been killing for awhile, that may not be too old," he 
said.
	"So what makes you so sure our lunatic has killed before?" asked 
Schanke. At Nick's 'you've got to be kidding' look, he said, "okay. Okay. 
You've got a point. Just give me a few minutes to go through these."
	After about an hour of them both studying the files, Schanke said, 
"how do you figure these may be related to our guy? I see some 
similarities, sure, but nothing that jumps out and bites me."
	Nick raised his eyebrows in amusement at his partner's choice of 
phrases. If he only knew, thought Nick, then quickly discarded that 
thought from his mind. Turning serious, he said, "they're all unsolved, the 
choice of weapon used was more personal, and there was excessive 
blood at the scene, some of it animal."
	"What do you mean, the weapon was more personal?" he asked.
	"You know. Not like a gun where you could shoot them from 
across the room, but the killer had to be in close contact with his victim. It 
takes a certain type of killer to want to do this," explained Nick, his mind 
drifting off as he said the words.

--- Start flashback ---
Florence, late 13th c.

	The city had been quiet, and it was late. Dawn was barely a few 
hours off and he was hungry. He had spent too much time in the 
company of his friends and had neglected to feed. Nicholas had come 
upon his prey almost by accident. He was hurrying along the alleyways 
that ran parallel to the Arno, thinking there would be someone about 
down by the river. He walked around a corner, casting a glance back 
over his shoulder, when he tripped over a body sprawled at his feet.
	Regaining his footing, he looked down in annoyance. The body 
turned out to be a man, who seemed to be just as annoyed that he had 
been disturbed. "Watch where you're going, you young ruffian," spat the 
man in anger.
	Nicholas looked at the man, astonished that he would be spoken 
to in such a manner. "Perhaps you are the one who should be watching 
out," he retorted in anger.
	The man glared at him and ordered, "be off with you, whilst I'm 
still in a mood to let you go."
	Nicholas laughed, "you are going to let me go? Oh, I think not old 
man." He reached down and grabbed the man by the remnants of his 
coat and pulled him harshly to his feet, and immediately shoved his back 
hard against the wall.
	The man started to protest in anger, until he looked into Nicholas' 
eyes. They were glowing with a golden fire, and he was grinning 
dangerously, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. The man started to 
scream as Nicholas pulled him towards him. 
	He immediately clamped one hand over the man's mouth, and 
using this same hand pushed his head to the side exposing the neck. As 
the man uselessly struggled against him, Nicholas tore into his throat, 
savoring the hot blood as it gushed into his mouth. Momentarily sated, he 
let the body dropped to the ground. Laughing, he wiped the traces of 
blood from around his mouth, and looking down said, "so who is going to 
let who go now." He laughed again as he bent down to pick up the body. 
Flying straight up and out of the alley, he headed for the river to dispose 
of what was left of his dinner.

--- End flashback ---

	"Yeah," said Schanke. "A real sicko. That's what it takes."
	Breaking free of his reverie, and wanting to change the subject, 
Nick stood up. "Let's go see what Natalie has." He reached for his coat 
as Schanke stood up to get his.
	"Yeah, okay. Let's hit the road, partner," said Schanke, leading 
the way out of the squad room.

===
CHAPTER FIVE


	"Go on in, detectives," said Grace pleasantly, as they 
approached her desk. She knew they were working on that awful Barnett 
killing and were probably anxious for the autopsy reports.
	"Thanks, Grace," said Schanke, as he pushed open the door and 
held it for Nick.
	Natalie turned as she heard them enter the lab. Nick reached her 
first, with Schanke just a couple of steps behind. "So, what are you boys 
up to tonight?" she asked lightly, seeing the serious expressions they 
were both wearing.
	"We thought you might have the results ready for us," said Nick, 
as he stopped to stand next to her. "On the Barnett's," he added for 
emphasis.
	Seeing that any attempts to lighten the mood were going to be 
ignored, she asked, "do you guys have any suspects?" She crossed the 
room to her desk, glancing over her shoulder for a response.
	"Not yet," replied Schanke, looking curiously at Nick, who was 
staring down at his shoes. "Nick pulled a few old cases out he thinks we 
should look at, but we wanted to see your autopsy reports first."
	Natalie picked up a file off her desk, and walking over to Nick, 
handed it to him. He looked up just long enough to take it, then turning his 
back on them both, opened the file and began to read. Looking at 
Schanke, she pointed to Nick and mouthed, 'what's wrong with him?' 
Schanke just shrugged, 'I don't know'.
	About that time Nick turned back around and asked, "Nat. Are 
you sure about this?"
	"What?" she asked, peering over his shoulder to see what he 
was looking at.
	"This blood. The report says it was lamb's blood. Are they sure?"
	"Yeah, they're sure. Why?" she asked, trying to draw out what he 
was thinking.
	As Nick kept reading the report, Schanke answered, "forensics 
says that it was animal blood painted on the doorways, but they didn't 
know what kind."
	"Well, now they do. It's definitely lamb's blood," she replied.
	"Why was it found on the victim's?" asked Nick, looking at her 
expectantly. "How did it get there?"
	"My guess would be that the killer had it all over him, and when 
he killed the Barnett's, some of it transferred to them," she explained.
	"You don't think he purposefully used it on them?" continued 
Nick.
	"No, there's no evidence to indicate that," she replied.
	Nick just nodded his head, then looking up, passed the file to 
Schanke. As Schanke turned aside to read it, Natalie took hold of Nick's 
arm and pulled him to the side of the room. "Are you all right?" she asked, 
concern in her voice.
	"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" he replied.
	"You seem kind of, oh, I don't know, out of it somehow. Is there 
something going on here that I should know about?" she asked 
conspiratorially.
	"No. No, it's nothing like that," he replied, picking up on her 
meaning. "It's just this case, that's all. It's, uh, different."
	"Different. How so?" she asked, expecting an answer.
	"You know," he shrugged casually, expecting to put her off.
	"No, I don't know. Tell me," she insisted.
	Sighing, he started to say something when they were interrupted 
by Schanke. "So, Nick. You think we should take a look at those other 
case files again. See if we can match up some comparisons, or what?"
	Jumping at the chance to escape Natalie's unrelenting questions, 
he quickly stepped towards Schanke and said, "yeah. That's exactly what 
we should do. If we hurry, maybe we can get through most of them 
tonight."
	"Nick," said Natalie, trying to draw him back into their 
conversation.
	"Sorry, Nat, got to go. We'll see you later," he said to her as he 
headed towards the door. "Come on, Skank."
	Turning to give Natalie an 'I'm sorry about that' look, Schanke 
said, "we'll catch you later. Thanks for the report." He then hurried to 
catch up with his partner, who was already halfway out the door.

	Once they were settled in the Caddy, and heading back towards 
the precinct, Schanke asked, "so, what was that all about back there?"
	Taking his eyes off the road to momentarily glance at Schanke, 
he replied, "all what?"
	"You know. The third degree she was nailing you with," explained 
Schanke, sounding a touch patronizing. He knew Nick knew what he 
meant.
	"Oh, that. It was nothing," he replied, dismissing the 
conversation.
	"Are you going to make me drag it out of you?" asked Schanke 
perturbed.
	"Skank, it's no big deal," answered Nick defensively.
	"If it's no big deal, then why is she worried whether you're all right 
or not? Just what aren't you telling me, <partner>," he asked.
	"Honest. It's nothing. You know how she is," he replied, obviously 
not wanting to discuss this.
	"This has nothing to do with your health, or anything like that 
then?" he asked, sounding with a mix of relief and worry.
	Really confused, Nick replied, "no. Why would you think that?"
	"Oh, how about because you have this weird <disorder> and 
you're on this strange liquid diet, which by the way, I can't imagine any 
human surviving on, need I say more," he said, finishing his mild rant.
	Grinning, Nick slapped Schanke on the shoulder and said, "and 
here, I didn't think you cared."
	"Yeah, yeah," he replied, a little embarrassed. Then turning a 
little more serious, "just tell me there's nothing to worry about."
	Nick glanced at Schanke, still grinning. But seeing he was 
serious, Nick replied, "Schanke, I assure you, there's nothing to worry 
about. I'm completely healthy, honest."
	Schanke just nodded his head and turned to look at the report in 
his lap.
	After a moment's pause, Nick asked, "so, you feel better now?"
	Without looking up, he replied, "yeah. Now I feel better."
	They rode the rest of the way in silence.

	Nick pulled into the parking lot. They exited the Caddy and 
headed for the precinct. Nick was in front, with Schanke trailing close 
behind. Without warning, Nick came to a complete stop, and was 
momentarily jostled when Schanke walked into him.
	"What did you stop for?" asked Schanke, quickly backing up and 
putting some distance between them. Nick was ignoring him and looking 
across the fence on the other side of the parking lot. "Nick?" said 
Schanke, trying to get his attention, to no avail.
	Nick took a few steps in the direction he was looking, then 
stopped again. He was standing rigidly, eyes narrowed, scanning the 
darkened shadows across from them. "What are you looking at?" 
whispered Schanke, not seeing or sensing anything out of the ordinary.
	Just when he thought Nick would never answer, he did. "There's 
someone over there, watching <us>," he said, growling quietly, leaving no 
doubt as to what he was thinking.
	"Where? I don't see anything," whispered Schanke, scanning the 
area closely himself. "How do you know someone is there?"
	"I can <feel> it," answered Nick, in a hushed voice. "It's him."
	"Who?"
	"Our killer," replied Nick, taking another step forward. He was 
unable to pinpoint the exact location, he knew someone was over there. It 
felt the same as the presence he had sensed at the restaurant. He knew 
it was the same. It was the Barnett's killer. He just knew it.
	If it were anyone else saying this, Schanke would have chalked it 
up to anything, other than reality. But he had been around Nick long 
enough to know this was probably real. "We should get some men and 
canvas the area," he suggested, pulling out his cell phone and calling into 
the precinct.
	"You go ahead. I'll see if I can locate him," said Nick, starting to 
move away.
	When Schanke realized Nick was moving forward, he tried to 
grab the back of his jacket and missed. "Nick. Wait." He was too late. His 
partner was already moving rapidly across the parking lot, towards the 
area he thought the killer was waiting. Schanke pulled his gun and 
started after him.
	Schanke started cursing when he saw Nick go over the chain 
fence. Just then, a number of uniformed officers rushed out of the 
precinct and over to where he was watching Nick disappear between two 
buildings. He quickly had the men form teams and sent them out in 
search of Nick and the suspected killer. Schanke and two other officers, 
then took off over the fence attempting to follow the same path taken by 
Nick.
	Meanwhile, Nick still hadn't seen anything. But he was sure he 
could feel a presence. If he trusted his instincts, he should be able to find 
whoever this was. He knew he was out here. Nick paused and tried to 
focus his attention. He tried to locate the vibration he was feeling. It was 
very difficult. He was distracted by the noise the others were making as 
they searched the area, and he could hear Schanke calling his name. He 
tried to block it all out and concentrate. Frustrated, he continued to move 
forward.
	He thought he heard something up ahead. He hurried his pace 
and quickly rounded the corner. Nothing. He looked around using his 
enhanced sight, and still saw nothing. The feeling remained. It hadn't 
grown any stronger, nor had it weakened. He was still here. Taking a 
deep breath, Nick forced himself to relax. He could do this, he knew he 
could do this. He just needed to concentrate. It used to be so easy. Of 
course, it hadn't always been.

--- Start flashback ---
Florence, late 13th c.

	"Nicholas, you are not concentrating," scolded LaCroix.
	"I am. There is nothing there," replied Nicholas, clearly frustrated.
	"You need to pay attention," ordered LaCroix.
	"I am paying attention," insisted Nicholas.
	"Try again," demanded LaCroix.
	Tired of this, Nicholas replied, "I do not want to do this any more. 
Let us do something else."
	"No," snapped LaCroix. "We will stop, once you have done this."
	"I cannot do it. There are too many people about," groaned 
Nicholas.
	LaCroix grasped him by the shoulders and said, "look at me." 
When Nicholas continued to stare at the ground, LaCroix gently shook 
him and said more firmly, "Nicholas, look at me."
	Nicholas raised his eyes to look at LaCroix. He could tell by the 
resolve in LaCroix' face that this lesson was far from being over. "This is 
too hard. Maybe we can try again tomorrow," he suggested.
	"It is not too hard, and we will do this tonight," stated LaCroix 
firmly.
	Nicholas sighed in resignation as LaCroix stepped behind him to 
stand at his back. LaCroix put his hands firmly around his shoulders, and 
held him tightly against him. LaCroix' mouth was close to his ear, 
whispering to him. "Look around and tell me what you see."
	They were standing to one side, in the dark shadows of the 
Piazza della Repubblica. It was early evening and there were still many 
people about. It was a clear warm night, with the moon high in the sky. 
The night lanterns were lit around the square casting a false light about 
the area, making it easy to move about and continue the day's 
socializing. Taking a deep breath, Nicholas began in a bored voice, "I see 
the marketplace, shops, the artisan stands, the tower, people, horses, ..." 
	"Enough," whispered LaCroix. "I want you to relax."
	"I am relaxed," replied Nicholas, a bit too quickly.
	Chuckling softly, LaCroix tightened his grip on Nicholas' 
shoulders, pulling him closer. Nicholas' back was firmly pressed against 
LaCroix' chest. Whispering again in his ear, LaCroix said, "I want you to 
close your eyes, take a deep breath, and relax."
	Nicholas did as he was told. He closed his eyes tightly, then 
taking a deep breath, slowly exhaled, willing his body to relax. "I am 
ready," he said.
	"Are you sure?" asked LaCroix, gently squeezing his shoulders.
	Taking another deep breath, he replied uncertainly, "I am sure."
	"Open your senses and cast them out from you. Then, tell me 
what you feel," whispered LaCroix.
	After a few moments, Nicholas replied, "I do not feel anything."
	Patiently, LaCroix whispered, "concentrate. You can do this, 
Nicholas. Just focus your concentration like I told you. Now, tell me what 
you feel."
	Nicholas tried hard to do as LaCroix wished. "It is not there," he 
said, struggling to find this elusive vibration.
	"It is slight, but it is there. Can you not feel it? Concentrate," he 
urged.
	Concentrating as hard as he could, he started slightly when he 
thought he detected something. "LaCroix, I think I felt something."
	"Focus your concentration. Reach out with your mind for that 
which you feel," he whispered, guiding Nicholas in the subtle nuances of 
this fine art. "Do not let it slip your grasp. Concentrate."
	Startled and surprised, Nicholas opened his eyes and stared 
straight ahead through the crowd. "LaCroix, I feel it. He is there," he said 
smiling broadly, then reaching out with his hand, he pointed to the mortal 
source of this vibration that he had been seeking.
	Before his gesture drew attention to them, LaCroix captured his 
wrist and pulled his arm down to his side. "Very good, Nicholas. Very 
good. I knew you could do this," he praised him, smiling as he did so. 
"There are not many of us who can master this technique. From mortals, 
the vibration, when there, is so weak, and therefore very difficult to 
knowingly seek out, but I knew it was within your abilities. For this 
success, you shall be rewarded."
	"May I have him?" asked Nicholas, looking hungrily at his mortal 
quarry.
	"No. Not tonight. We will leave him for a future lesson," explained 
LaCroix. "Come, I have something more satisfying in mind."
	Nicholas happily followed LaCroix out of the piazza, looking over 
his shoulder at the mortal man whose vibration he had sensed. Since 
discovering that some mortals had this vibration, Nicholas had been 
eager to learn how to detect them. The murderer, that he still sought, had 
such a vibration. This would make it much easier to catch him. 

--- End Flashback ---

	Startled, Nick jumped for cover. A bullet had barely missed him, 
bouncing off the wall next to where he had been leaning. He looked up, 
and quickly ducked again. He saw the flash from the muzzle just a 
fraction before he heard the impact, less than a foot away. The sound of 
the gunshot echoing against the walls.
	The shooter was behind the corner of the building just up ahead 
on his left. Nick jumped to his feet and ran around the building to his right, 
hoping to come up behind the shooter. As he rounded the second corner, 
he pulled his gun and stopped up at the next corner. He could sense a 
body just beyond. Diving into the alley, he rolled once, and came up on 
his knees, gun leveled in front of him, and yelled, "freeze. Police." He 
cursed softly as he saw the two uniformed officers quickly lowering their 
guns so he wouldn't shoot them.
	He stood up and walked towards them. "Did you see anything?" 
he asked, already knowing that they hadn't. To confirm this, they both 
shook their heads negatively. He turned yet again when Schanke came 
running up behind him.
	"Nick, are you all right? Who was shooting?" asked Schanke, out 
of breath.
	"Someone took a couple shots at me, but I'm fine. They missed," 
said Nick, clearly irritated. He shoved his gun back in his holster and 
turned to the others. The other two officers that had been involved in the 
search rushed around the corner, joining them. "Did anybody see 
anything?" demanded Nick. They all began to talk at once, but the bottom 
line was, no one had seen anybody or anything. Other than the two shots 
taken at Nick, there was no evidence that anyone had been there. 
	"Do you think this guy is still in the area?" asked Schanke.
	"No. He's gone," replied Nick disdainfully.
	"You sound awfully sure of that," said Schanke skeptically.
	"I am sure," said Nick arrogantly, kicking at a stray box standing 
in his path.
	"Drop the attitude, Knight. We all want to catch this guy," scolded 
Schanke.
	Nick just glared at his partner, but didn't say anything more. As 
Schanke was directing the officers on what to do next, Nick turned 
around and started stalking back towards the precinct. He had only gone 
a short distance when he was stopped by a shout from Schanke.
	"Nick, don't you dare go stomping off without me. Just wait, right 
there," demanded Schanke.
	Impatiently, Nick waited. As soon as Schanke caught up to him, 
he said, "I don't need an escort."
	"Yeah, and I don't need a dead partner," retorted Schanke.
	"I told you, the killer is gone. He was here, and we blew it, and he 
got away," raged Nick, storming off in the direction of the precinct 
building.
	Schanke ran to catch up, then matched him stride for stride. 
"Look, you're not the only one upset about this. And we don't even know 
for sure if it was him," said Schanke, trying to dissolve some of Nick's 
anger and frustration.
	"<I> know it was him," snapped Nick. "And he was right there," 
he continued, stopping to point back in the direction they had just come.
	Schanke was feeling a little exposed standing in the middle of the 
parking lot. Grabbing Nick's arm he pushed him in the direction of the 
building and said, "come on. Let's get inside."
	With one lingering look behind them, Nick allowed himself to be 
propelled across the parking lot and up the few stairs into the building. 
With Schanke at his back, he led the way to their office. As they walked 
by Norma seated at the administration desk in their department, they 
could see Stonetree standing by their desks, with his arms folded tightly 
across his chest.
	"Would one of you two like to tell me what is going on out there?" 
he bellowed.
	Nick was still fuming. He glared once at Schanke, then turned his 
back on them and started removing his coat. Stonetree turned his 
attention to Schanke and said, "well?"
	"Nick spotted someone, who we think may be our guy, on the 
other side of the parking lot when we pulled in. We went after him. He 
took a couple shots at Nick, and then got away. The uniforms are 
canvassing the area now," said Schanke wearily.
	While Schanke had been explaining to Stonetree, Nick had 
walked behind them and dropped into his chair. He looked up when 
Stonetree turned to him and asked, "so. Did you actually see this guy?"
	"No," replied Nick tersely.
	"But you're sure it was him?"
	"I'm sure."
	"Then I suggest you quit sulking and go find him again," 
commanded Stonetree, just as he turned and headed for his office. 
Turning back to them, he added, "I don't want this to go on any longer 
then necessary. Understand?"
	As soon as Stonetree left the office, Schanke sat at his desk and 
said to Nick, "like he thinks we do. Man, I tell you. You almost get killed 
tonight, and he acts like we're not doing enough."
	"Well, we're not," admitted Nick. "We should've had him."
	"Hey, Knight," said Schanke, his tone indicating a change in 
attitude. "Tell me. Just <how> did you know he was there? And <how> 
did you know it was our guy?"
	Nick just stared blankly at Schanke for a moment, then 
shrugging, picked up a file and tossed it to him. "Let's go over these and 
see what we can come up with."
	Schanke fixed Nick with a knowing look, and said, "that's what I 
thought you'd say."

===
CHAPTER SIX


	The killer leaned against the building, breathing hard. 'Damn!' he 
swore silently. 'That was close. Too close.' He bent over at the waist, 
hands on his knees, trying to quickly catch his breath. After a few 
minutes, his breathing eased. When he could, he stood and looked 
around the area. He was a few blocks away from the precinct and his 
abandoned car, which he had parked in the opposite direction from where 
he had been forced to run.
	This had never happened to him before. No one had ever seen 
him, or known that he was watching. He knew he had been well hidden. 
But that blond detective had known right where he was. And this wasn't 
the first time either. He had chalked that first time, in front of the house, 
as up to coincidence. But later at the restaurant, that was uncanny. 'That 
Detective must have eyes in the back of his head', he thought irately. 
'And how was it that he immediately followed me when I was outside in 
the parking lot; when he could see me, but not see me', the man mused, 
angry and confused.
	'Well, Mr. Detective, whoever you are, this cannot be allowed', he 
thought to himself in determination. 
	Having completely caught his breath, and feeling more 
composed, the killer decided it was time to leave. He would come back 
for his car later. He was sure the police were all over the area. 'How 
could I have missed?!' the killer berated himself. 'If I had aimed just a little 
more carefully, that detective would be history. I wouldn't have to worry 
about him interfering any more'.
	He walked up to the nearest Metro station that was on the corner 
of Bloor and Yonge just a few blocks away. He climbed aboard the first 
train, and grabbing a seat by the window considered carefully his next 
move. He still hadn't located the little girl. After he had lost track of her at 
the restaurant, he had thought he would see her if he watched outside 
the police station. However, those two detectives had come in early 
tonight without her. He thought they would be guarding her, but she was 
nowhere. When they had both left earlier tonight, he had wandered into 
the station and had casually looked around. Since he didn't want to draw 
attention to himself, he didn't remain in any one area for very long. But 
there was no sign of her.
	Maybe she wasn't all that important, he began to think. After all, 
she's just a kid, and who's going to believe anything a kid says. Maybe 
that's why the detectives dumped her already. They had no use for her 
either. Made sense to him. And anyway, that tall blond detective was 
definitely more worrisome than any little girl, no matter what she may 
have seen.
	That detective changes things. None of the other police had ever 
even got close to suspecting him. Maybe he should consider moving up 
his timetable. If that detective is going to try to stop him, then the sooner 
he finishes his journey, the sooner he will be powerless to do anything 
about it, he thought to himself gleefully. He hadn't realized he was 
chuckling out loud, until he saw a passenger in front of him turn around 
and give him a dirty look. He sneered back at the man, then composed 
himself. He didn't want any attention drawn to himself. There would be 
time enough for that later.

	Meanwhile, Schanke and Nick were sorting through the stacks of 
files they had already accumulated on the case. They had them pretty 
much in order, when Schanke said, "Nick, I don't know about you, but I'm 
ready to call it a night."
	Nick looked over and smiled, "yeah, I think I am too. Help me 
load these files into a box. I think I'll go through them this afternoon."
	"You, partner, should get some sleep," chastised Schanke.
	"I will," replied Nick, amused at Schanke's concern. "This will just 
give me something to do when I get up, that's all."
	"Yeah, okay," replied Schanke, loading up one of the two boxes 
of files. "I'll carry this one down, you grab the other."
	The two detectives booked out at the desk and carried the boxes 
down to the parking lot and loaded them into Nick's trunk. As Schanke 
started to climb into his car, he said, "how about if I stop by your place on 
the way in? That way, you can tell me all about what you've found."
	"Sounds good to me," replied Nick, climbing into his own car.

	His sleep was restless. He had gotten to bed late and kept 
waking intermittently. As he lay, half asleep, half awake, unbidden 
memories rose in his dreams.

--- Start flashback ---
Florence, late 13th c.

	He woke suddenly, not knowing what had caused him to wake. It 
was still very early in the day, and his tiredness came back upon him 
heavily. He lay back down, and after tossing and turning for a short while, 
he climbed out of bed. He was uneasy, unable to shake the night's tumult 
from his mind.
	Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he left his bedroom and padded softly 
across the hall to the room opposite his. Entering this room, he saw 
LaCroix laying on his back, appearing to be sound asleep. He stood at 
the door, pausing with indecision. After a few moment's thought, he 
walked to the foot of the bed, then falling to his hands and knees, crawled 
towards the headboard. He pulled the covers back and slid his feet and 
body down underneath them.
	As he was settling in, he heard LaCroix speak softly, "Nicholas, is 
there a problem?"
	"No," he mumbled, rolling onto his right side, facing LaCroix.
	"Is there a specific reason you feel the need to share my bed?" 
he asked solicitously.
	"Uh, uh," he grunted, edging closer and burrowing in beside 
LaCroix.
	He felt LaCroix raise his arm, allowing him to nestle even closer. 
Almost immediately, he relaxed and dropped into a sound sleep.

--- End Flashback ---

	Nick awoke with a start. 'Where in the hell did that come from?' 
he thought to himself. Looking around, he convinced himself that the 
memory was really just a dream, an unwelcome dream. After forcing the 
thoughts of LaCroix from his mind, he settled back down to sleep. It 
wasn't long before he was back in that state between waking and 
dreaming.

--- Resume flashback ---
Florence, late 13th c.

	He was jostled awake by the sudden loss of his headrest. He 
opened his eyes just barely enough to see LaCroix rising from the bed. 
Slowly pushing himself up on one elbow, he looked sleepily at him and 
asked, "is it time to get up?"
	Reaching down, LaCroix moved his pillow to occupy the area just 
vacated by his body, gently pushing Nicholas down so his head and 
chest rested upon the pillow. 
	His eyes closing of their own volition, he heard LaCroix whisper 
in his ear, "it is early yet. Sleep." He began to drift away, his last 
sensation being that of a soft caress against his cheek.

--- End Flashback ---

	Nick jolted awake. Sitting upright, he pushed the sheets away 
from where they had been rubbing against his face. He looked around in 
momentary confusion, as if he almost expected LaCroix to be in the 
room. Realizing immediately that he was once again reliving old 
memories through his dreams, he covered his face with his hands and 
said into them, "no. Go away." After an unsuccessful attempt at banishing 
LaCroix from his thoughts, he decided he would get no further rest this 
day, and figured he may as well get up.
	Nick came downstairs, still in his black silk pajamas and red 
brocade robe. He headed directly for the refrigerator and sharply pulled 
the door open. After a slight hesitation, he grabbed the protein shake. He 
pulled the cap off and smelled it, making a face as he did so. Holding his 
breath, he quickly downed half the contents. Shuddering from the awful 
taste, he replaced the cap and put the remainder back on the shelf. Next, 
he drank a large glass of water, trying to wash the taste from his mouth. 
Whatever was in that, it left a queasy, heavy feeling in the pit of his 
stomach, enough to kill his appetite for anything else.
	He looked at the clock and noticed that it was shortly after one in 
the afternoon. He turned on the television to the local news, and saw that 
it was still overcast outside. They were expecting rain later tonight. 'Well, 
that's nothing new', he thought and leaving the television on as 
background noise, he walked over to the kitchen table.
	He randomly poked through the case files still sitting in the 
boxes. He pulled out the ones of the Barnett's, and opening them, 
organized the photos over the table. He carefully studied each picture, 
hoping something would jump out at him, but nothing did. The grisleyness 
of the murders seemed much more acute, seeing them spread out in this 
manner. He didn't remember the actual crime scene being this cold and 
austere. The killer obviously had no respect for the lives he took.

--- Start flashback ---
Florence, late 13th c.

	Nicholas dropped the old man in the river, and hovered long 
enough to see the body sink below the splash of its' entry. He flew back 
to the main road and landed near the bridge. He turned sharply at the 
sound of an unexpected voice behind him. "Nicholas, I see you found 
some nourishment this evening," said LaCroix, as he walked over and 
stood next to him.
	"I had to settle for some ragged beggar," he complained, 
brushing the dust off his coat with his hands.
	"Indeed. And why is that? I thought you had finally found some 
suitable entertainment this night," remarked LaCroix, slightly amused.
	"There was no one else about. This murderer has everyone 
frightened and they are all staying indoors. Unless we catch him soon, all 
that will be left for us will be the dregs that live under bridges," he 
lamented.
	"I do think you are exaggerating, just a bit," chided LaCroix. 
"What of these <friends> with whom you spend so much of your time?"
	Nicholas looked at LaCroix, surprise evident on his face. "You 
are not suggesting that I feed off my friends, are you?"
	"I offer the possibility, if what remains otherwise is that distasteful 
to you," he replied.
	"If I were to do that, then very soon I would have no friends left. 
Then what would I do for entertainment?" he asked, his attitude much 
more subdued.
	"Then we would move on, and you would make new friends," 
suggested LaCroix.
	After a moment's thought, Nicholas replied, "I do not want to do 
that. I like it here. And I like my friends. I would much rather we catch this 
murderer. Then everything will return to the way it was. That is what I 
want," he said decisively.
	"Very well. Then that is what you shall have. For now, we will go 
home, and tonight we will start the hunt," announced LaCroix.
	Nicholas smiled in anticipation, then turned to follow LaCroix.

--- End Flashback ---

	He grabbed the boxes and moved them to his coffee table. He 
sat on the rug, between the table and the fireplace, giving himself more 
room to spread things out. Picking up the remote, he turned on the 
flames in the fireplace. Next, he pulled out the latest forensics reports and 
started through them in minute detail. He caught a note that said some 
more of the blood work was supposed to be finished by noon today. 
Going to the phone, he called forensics and asked them to fax the latest 
information to his loft. A few minutes later he heard his fax machine 
engage. He walked over and read the pages as they came off the 
machine.
	'That's odd,' he thought, reading through this one page. It was 
the results on the evidence found in the backyard. Although it had been 
raining heavily that night, they had found traces of blood on the grass. It 
seemed to be centralized in one spot. Something nagged at Nick's mind. 
He went over to the kitchen table, and among the pictures still spread out, 
he found the one he was looking for. It was of the Barnett's backyard. It 
was of the spot where the blood was found. There was a coil of rope laid 
out in a circle on the grass. Even with the rain, you could see where the 
grass had been stamped down in the center of the coil. According to 
forensics, the blood traces found were a mixture of those belonging to the 
Barnett's, and also lamb's blood. That means it had to have been the 
killer who did this. But why?
	Nick recalled what Sally had told him she heard the killer say, 'I 
have passed through the third circle'. Could this be representative of the 
circle the killer was referring to? And if so, what did it mean?
	Nick tried to envision himself as this killer. Just what was he 
thinking? What was he doing? What was his reason? All killers had a 
motive. Nick suspected this killer really enjoyed what he was doing, but 
there was more to it than that. This killer thought he had a purpose. A 
grand plan perhaps. He wasn't simply killing, he had some ritual about it. 
If Nick was right, it was going to make this murderer harder to catch. 
They would need to anticipate him, and to do that, they needed to know 
why he was killing.
	Looking up from the floor, Nick's eye caught the scorch mark, still 
very much in evidence on the elevator door. It was as if it were mocking 
him. Why did he torture himself this way? Why can't he just bring himself 
to paint over it? He asked himself these questions for the hundredth time. 
Every time he looked at it, he was reminded of LaCroix. Is that why he 
can't get rid of it? Because it would be liking getting rid of LaCroix? Once 
and for all? Isn't that what he'd always wanted? No, not always.
	Nick cast his eyes down, away from the vivid reminder. Despair 
threatened to overwhelm him. He flung himself on his back, and lay on 
the floor staring up at the ceiling. He tried to force his mind blank, drive 
out all thoughts of <him>. The harder he tried, the more the memories of 
LaCroix invaded his being. Everywhere he looked, everything he did, all 
that he was, reminded him of LaCroix. 'Surely I will go crazy', he thought.
	Sitting up, he leaned back on his arms and stared into the fire. 
He forced himself to think of all the horrible things done to him by LaCroix 
and to those close to him. If he focused on those memories, and only 
those, he could bear this. It would get easier in time... he knew this. 
LaCroix' death had not been that long ago and it was still so fresh in his 
mind. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the texture of the wood 
as it slid through his hands, as he allowed his rage to drive it into LaCroix' 
chest. He could remember the sudden fear and anguish that had gripped 
his heart as he realized Alyce was dead, killed by his father, and how his 
fury turned to a numbing shock when he looked up and saw that LaCroix 
had vanished. But what was done, was done. LaCroix had taught him 
that, too.
	And it truly was for the best. He kept telling himself he didn't have 
to worry about <when> LaCroix would appear, or what he would do. What 
new ways he would devise to interfere in his life. He was completely on 
his own now. No one to tell him how he must live, what he must do, when 
he must do it, or who he should do it with. Not that he hadn't lived on his 
own before. He had, many times. But always with the knowledge that 
LaCroix could show up at any time, with no warning, to totally and 
completely disrupt whatever life he had built for himself. Well, no more. 
That would never happen again. He had made sure of that. 'But at what 
cost, this freedom?' he asked himself.
	Staring morosely into the fire, he felt lost. His surroundings 
seemed strangely out of focus. He had to snap out of this. He couldn't 
allow himself to sit around and wallow in self pity. If LaCroix were 
watching him somehow, from some afterlife or other, wouldn't he just be 
laughing up a storm. This is exactly what he would have expected to 
happen. Nick could hear him now, saying 'I told you, Nicholas. You would 
be lost without me'. Well, he wasn't lost. And he was happier, or he would 
be someday.
	His attention was drawn to the television. The news was playing 
and he had heard a reference to the Barnett's. He quickly stood up and 
walked to stand in front of the set. There was that news reporter, what 
was his name, Steve Tate. He was describing the murder scene, along 
with the fact that the police had no suspects, no leads, and basically, no 
answers. Nick groaned aloud at this coverage. They were probably going 
to be in Stonetree's office half the night. It would most likely start in the 
mayor's office, and run downhill until he and Schanke were standing knee 
deep in it.
	Nick looked down at the files scattered on his floor. He still had a 
couple of hours before Schanke got here. He had practically memorized 
the forensics' report on the Barnett case, and other than that strange 
circle with the blood in their backyard, nothing stood out. He had those 
other case files that he had Norma pull for him, and he hadn't really gone 
through them in detail. Well, no time like the present, he thought, but 
before settling himself down to read, he crossed to the kitchen and 
poured himself a glass of blood. Natalie wouldn't be happy, but he did 
drink half that shake she had brought him, and he really did need this. 
With a final glance at the elevator door, he crossed the room and settled 
down in front of the fire. Taking a swallow of his drink, he set down his 
glass and picked up the first of the five files.

===
CHAPTER SEVEN


	"Yo, Nick. You up?" shouted Schanke, as he walked off the 
elevator, into the loft. Seeing no movement, but hearing the television, he 
walked into the living area. He was carrying a brown paper bag and was 
being careful to hold it upright. Looking all around, he didn't see Nick 
anywhere. "Nick, where are you?"
	"I'm here," said Nick, from the top of the stairs. "I'm getting 
dressed. Give me a minute."
	"Sure thing, partner," said Schanke, walking in front of the fire to 
get a good look at what Nick had been working on. Seeing all the files 
and photographs spread out, and looking at how organized and 
categorized they were, he shouted, "did you actually do any sleeping 
today?"
	Smiling, Nick came bounding down the stairs. "I slept a little," he 
answered. "How about you?"
	"Yeah, sure. About as much as one can dealing with all this," he 
said, indicating the files Nick had been working on. "Hey, did you catch 
the news