Date: Fri, 23 Jul 1999 00:19:38 -0500 
From: "Alanna J. Patrick" <aatrick@OCEAN.OTR.USM.EDU> 
Subject: STORY: THE EQUAL (1A/?) 
To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU 


THE EQUAL 
By:  Alanna J. Patrick
c 1995, 1999
aatrick@ocea.otr.usm.edu



     "All right." she said dropping a dark colored back pack on 
his desk with a low thud and unzipping it to reveal musty old 
leather bound book.
     "I think this is the one."
     "So you think the answer is in this old worm-ridden 
book?"  He asked, looking up from the control panel in his 
desk.
     "Yes I do. Besides, if you were over 800 years old 
wouldn't you be a little worm-ridden?"  she muttered, hefting 
the book out of the pack and placing it on the table beside 
him.
     "I am. And  I may be many things,  but *worm-ridden* is  
most certainly not one of them." He said in a low, even tone.
     "I beg you pardon  sir."  she said rounding the corner of 
his desk to stand beside his chair, "I temporarily forgot whom 
I was dealing with."  With that she quickly turned to the book 
and began to flip through the pages praying that he didn't 
notice the blush  creeping its' way out from under her collar.
     He reached up and  gently ran his fingers under her chin 
to turn her face towards him.  Doing this, he saw a red hue 
had settled around her neck.  In spite of himself, a wicked 
smile  played at the corners of his mouth.
     "Forgot?  So I am *worm-ridden* and *forgettable*?"  He 
asked, gently moving back  the collar of her faded denim 
shirt and running a finger over two faint puncture marks that  
were barely twelve hours old.  
     "Well," she said, looking down into those ice blue eyes 
and trying in vain to speak in a soft, sweet tone. " you do 
tend to forget certain things when someone is nibbling on 
your neck."
     With that, he was now the one averting his eyes.  
Recovering quickly, he stared directly into those infinite blue 
eyes and did his best to sound calm even though 'that' urge 
was stirring inside him.
     "Even if  that someone is *worm-ridden*?"  saying the last 
two words very slowly to just see if the blush that was 
glowing like a beacon around her neck would move. It did.
     Feeling her cheeks suddenly developing  a temperature, 
she tried to turn her attention back to the musty old volume 
in front of them.  His hand would not let her.  He brought up 
his other hand and proceeded to run the tips of his fingers 
along the edge of her jaw and followed the blush back down 
her neck. 
     Was it her imagination, or did his eyes turn yellow, as 
they had last night when she finally worked up her nerve and 
kissed him?  That  was the only the third time that he had let 
her see  that part of him.  She still couldn't quite believe that 
creatures such as he existed.  And yet here he was, sitting in 
front of her caressing her neck as if it were made of thin 
glass. 

     He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.  That was 
a mistake, he could smell her blood even more.  Oh, gods, 
why had he allowed things to get this far?  He should have  
killed  her the first night or left her alone, or even, if he 
wanted company, brought her across.  Isn't that what he had 
always taught?   Instead, he had spent that night and every  
night  since, in her company.  Usually in some serious 
debate over matters  which  she had   only read about in one 
of the dank, yellow books with which she seemed to 
surrounded herself  with. What was it she had said? 'Books 
teach you,  keep you company and they never leave.'  Such 
a world weary sentiment for one who hadn't lived out a single 
lifetime.   If he still believed in gods, he would have said that 
they were playing a twisted joke on him, but he knew better 
than that. This was no cruel joke of gods, but rather one of 
his own making.  She had stumbled in the studio, reeking of  
whiskey, and they wound up spending the rest of  the night 
in a heated debate on the nature of black holes, which 
promptly ended when she passed out on his sofa.  He had 
never in his existence felt, except, but that was a long time 
ago, and even then he hadn't felt quite like this.  This was 
utter madness logic told him, but in the space of one week 
he had developed  *feelings* for a *mortal*.  Why? Mortals 
were food, playthings, and inferior, he had taught his 
children that.  Yet this one challenged him, and was mentally 
equal to him, so much so that she had debated him into a 
corner more than once.   She had even *beaten* him in 
chess. He who had commanded and plotted the strategies of 
armies, beaten by one mortal!  All of this should have 
angered him, but instead, all he felt was the overwhelming 
urge to *be* with her for the rest of time.  He knew that was 
impossible unless he  gave in to his other urge and brought 
her over, but he was determined that she should make that 
choice, not he. Giving a mortal a *choice*, what was he 
turning into?  The fear of her refusing him had rendered him 
mute when even attempting  to bring up the subject. Fear?  
Of a mortal *refusing* *him*, gods!   He also knew that if he 
didn't find his nerve, and soon,  the enforcers would find it for 
him. It had been a minor miracle, and painfully discrete 
behavior, that they hadn't found out in the week that he had 
been walking around  like a lovesick mortal.   
 
    She took his hands in hers and brushed his fingertips with 
her lips.  God help her, she would do anything for him.  
Anything, just to have him touch her.  Strange the way fate 
works.  She had wandered into a club wanting to forget the 
previous two days of dealing with identifying body parts from 
a plane explosion  and a stressed out on-duty M.E.  She had 
then seated herself at the bar and told the bartender, who 
looked like a Hell's Angel reject, to make sure her shotglass 
didn't go empty until she was out cold on the floor and 
slapped two 20's on the bar to  insure his undivided attention 
to the task.  About the seventh shot she got a call and 
hoisted herself up off of the stool to go in search of the 
lady's.  Instead of finding  her intended destination, she 
found this striking man sitting at a microphone speaking in 
low, sultry tones in a dimly lit room.  The next thing she 
knew, she woke up flat of her back on a black leather sofa in 
a strange room with him standing over her, staring at her 
neck.  For a split second she could have sworn his eyes 
looked yellow.  

     She opened her eyes and found him,  eyes shut tight, 
holding her right hand and kissing the palm of her left.  His 
lips moved to her wrist and lingered there, it seemed, for 
ages.  Instinctively, she freed her right hand and started to 
gently caressed the back of his head and neck.  The sudden 
movement startled him, causing him to twitch backward, and 
her to loose her balance and fall into his lap. Turning her 
head quickly to hide her embarrassment, she grabbed the 
chair arms and started to lift herself out of his lap.   The 
touch of his cool hand on her cheek stopped her in mid lift.  
Tilting  her head to look directly into his softly shining eyes,  
she heard him say something that made her heart leap into 
her throat.
	"Don't." he whispered.
    He ran his hands up along her back and under her hair, 
gently tickling her nape, pulling her close to him. He began 
to kiss her with  an intensity that frightened and excited him.                            
Returning his kiss with the same intensity, she began to run 
her tongue along the inside of his lips, savoring their wine 
tinged taste. 
     With this bold gesture he growled and tightened his arms 
around her, kissing her even harder and tickling the roof of 
her mouth as he played chase with her tongue.
     Accidently, her tongue brushed up against his sharp 
canines, causing a small cut that trickled blood onto his 
tongue.  The taste of her sweet blood  drove him insane with 
passion and hunger. Instinctively, he started to suck, harder 
and harder until he very nearly pulled her over the edge with 
him.  Bracing her arms against his chest she managed to pry 
his mouth from hers.  Tenderly caressing his cheek, she 
looked into his golden eyes, knowing he was the one she 
had prayed for. 
   
  "Bring me across?" she asked, quietly and simply.
     A look of total astonishment and joy washed across his 
ageless face.
     "Lucien, bring me over, let me be with you."
     Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Fleur. 
     /"Lucien, please, take me, I cannot live without you."/
     "Yes." He whispered, barely able to speak, pulling her 
even closer.
     /This time, *no one* will stop me./
    
 She brushed her lips lightly against his and began tracing a 
path along the edge of his jaw and down his neck, burning a 
path from his ear down to his collar, forcing the vampire 
closer to the surface.  He could feel her removing the pin in 
his collar and unbuttoning his black silk shirt, running her lips 
along the base of his neck and her hands along his cold 
alabaster chest, pushing the soft shirt away from his 
shoulders. 
  
   He reached around with his right hand and tugged at her 
shirt, causing  the buttons to scatter. Pulling the unwanted 
garment away from her shoulders,  as he gazed into her 
warm, twinkling eyes, he began to rub her shoulders, letting 
his thumbs rest on her throat. Feeling her pulse beat strong 
against his fingers, he closed his eyes and took in the scent, 
the feel of her blood rushing through her body, allowing the 
need to completely overtake him. He pulled her close to him 
once again. She rested her head on his shoulder and gently 
massaged the back of his neck as he slowly sank his teeth 
into her  warm, inviting skin.  Her body arching against him in 
response, she pulled his head down, willing him on as the 
world around her went black.  

     The only thing that mattered was the fountain that was 
welling up in his mouth.  His body surged with power as the 
hot, sweet liquid flowed over his lips.   He shook his head to 
drive his teeth deeper into the soft, tender flesh, drawing the 
blood out faster. All of her memories, her fears, and 
knowledge played out in the dark corners of his mind. He 
could see through her eyes, feel with her feelings.  How 
could she *love* a creature such as he?
 
    Her entire body started to tingle.  Dear God! This was 
indescribable!  If he hadn't had such a tight hold on her she 
believed that she would have floated away. The room started 
to fade, she could barely feel his mouth pulling the blood out 
of her body, or his strong arms around her.  She could 
vaguely feel his teeth pulling out of her neck and his body 
move away from hers. She managed to open her eyes a 
little, enough to see him, his fangs still bared and dripping 
with her blood.  She saw a gleam of metal and realized that 
he was taking the pin and using it to open a gash in his neck. 
Strange, the blood didn't gush, it seemed to ooze out of the 
small wound.  What did he say?  'potio.' Yes, drink.  She 
floated to him and wrapped her mouth around the closing 
gash.  It was thick and tasted like salty copper, but the more 
she tasted, the more she wanted.  She started to draw the 
thick liquid out of the wound, which caused him to lean back 
hard in the chair, a low moan reverberating in his chest.  The 
blood lust took hold of her, driving her over the edge with 
desire and need. She started to pry the wound open with her 
tongue, prying it open more and more pulling his life force 
out faster and faster, causing him to spasm so violently that 
the chair started to fall backwards.  Quickly, he reached out 
and grabbed the edge of the desk, to steady them.  Gods! 
This was exquisite! In nearly two thousand years, he had 
never felt such pleasure, such passion, such peace. 
/This time Nicolas, you will not deny me./
     With each drink, she felt the life rush back into her body. 
Every nerve in her body was on fire.  Two thousand years of 
memories flooded her brain.  Two thousand years of 
isolation, pain, fear, and longing.  He was giving her his 
lives, his memories, his feelings.  His power? Everything he 
was, was now hers.
 /Meus aequare./  
  
   He started to feel extremely weak.  He knew he had to pull 
her away, she had already taken more blood from him than 
all of his progeny combined. If she took anymore, he would 
be out for days. But this was different, she was different.  
She was not his child, but  his equal and the blood would 
solidify that fact.  But he had to stop her, or she would 
overfeed, and the death spasms would be bad enough 
without the drunken nausea from overfeeding .  Reluctantly, 
he managed to pull her away, as she growled  in protest. He 
pushed her up off of his chest further and watched the 
change wash over her beautiful face.  Her eyes were now 
gold with the hunger and her skin was now the same as his.  
The luminous white made the blood, his blood, that stained 
the corners of her mouth stand out even more, causing the 
passion to rise in him again.  He lightly kissed each spot of 
crimson fluid, savoring the taste of his blood on her lips.  
    Knowing that the death spasms would come soon,  he 
wanted to make her (and himself) as comfortable as 
possible.  He managed to rise up from the chair with her in 
his arms only to have his knees nearly go out from under 
him from the blood loss. Taking a deep breath to summon up 
his strength, he managed to carry her over to the sofa and 
gently lay her down before collapsing wearily against it's 
arm.  
     Her eyes had never left him and she continued to study 
him with golden-eyed amazement. She could see 
*everything*,  every detail, even the fibers in his shirt.  His 
face, his skin glowed.  Then a pain coursed through her 
body.  It felt as though someone was wringing every muscle 
in her body. A choked scream welled up in her throat as she 
reached for him.   She managed to grab his arm as another 
wave of pain shot through her body. 
      Feeling her death grip on his arm, he pushed himself up 
off the arm of the couch and grabbed her in time for another 
spasm to rip though her body.  She looked at him, crimson 
tears streaking down her face, silently pleading. 
     "Death spasms.  They will pass quickly."

     In truth, he didn't know how accurate a statement that 
was.  Usually they only lasted a couple of minutes at the 
most, but she had taken so much of his blood he didn't know 
how her body would react.  As he pulled her close another 
spasm rushed through her, this one so violent he thought it 
would break her body in half.  Then her body relaxed and 
she sagged back against his arm, like a child's rag doll.  He 
began to wipe the blood from her face hoping this was the 
last time she would ever feel any sort of pain.   He gently laid 
her back down on the sofa and quickly made his way to the 
cellar, his knees still trying to rebel on him.  She would wake 
soon with the thirst and he was starving. 
 
    /That's what you get for letting her drain you./
     /It was necessary./
     /Oh come now, you *wanted* her to do it./
     /It *was* necessary./
     /Was it *necessary* to let her take all of your power?/
     /She didn't take, I  *gave*./
     /Making a *woman* your equal, Lucien what are you 
turning into?/

     The mocking voice fell silent as he opened the cellar 
door.  Standing in the middle of the small room he reached 
to his left and grabbed an empty wooden crate sitting on top 
of an old coffin  and then selected  four bottles of  various 
'types' from the floor-to-ceiling rack "Mmm, I'd better make 
that six." He muttered, remembering her hunger and his 
weak knees.  He grabbed two bottles of A negative from the 
top row of the rack, placing them in the crated with the 
others and headed back up the steps, shutting the door 
behind him.  Walking past the bar, he caught sight of a white 
cloth  the bartender had left out. He sat down the half-full 
crate down on the bar with a clank, picked up the cloth and 
went around to the sink at the back of the bar and held the 
cloth under the spigot as he turned the cold tap on.  Turning 
the water off and wringing out the cool cloth, he turned and 
laid it in top of  the bottles and resumed the trek back to his 
private rooms. Rounding the corner of the bar, he suddenly 
felt her stir.
 
    /Good, the connection is strong./ he thought, smiling to 
himself.
     /You realize of course, that your beloved son will feel her 
too./
     /I will deal with him when the time comes./
     /Of course you will./

     He entered the room  and saw that she was sitting up in 
the middle of  the sofa, the same one she had passed out on 
only a week ago, rolling her head around trying to adjust to 
her 'new' eyes. She turned to face him and smiled, holding 
out her hand for him to join her.
He gratefully noted that her 'new' eyes had changed back to 
normal, which meant that the spasms were indeed over.  
She was now his equal, in every sense of the word.
     /A woman your equal?  Just like a lovesick mortal, just 
like your son./
     /Silence!/
 
    He walked over to the sofa and sat down placing the crate 
at his feet.  He picked up the damp cloth and resumed 
wiping away the  blood from her forehead and around her 
eyes.
     "Thirsty?"  he asked, gently removing the caked blood 
from her eyes.
     "Actually, I'm starving."  she whispered, eyeing the crate 
at his feet.
     "I thought as much." he said, reaching for one of the 
bottles.
     He pulled the cork out with his thumb and forefinger and 
handed it to her.  Smelling the aroma of the blood, she felt 
her teeth push down into her mouth and felt the hunger rise.
She turned up the bottle and killed it in four large gulps. She 
licked the last drops from her lips and reached over his lap to 
retrieve another bottle.  
     He gently pulled her up from his lap until her face was 
inches away from his.
     "My love, please remember two things.  You *can* feed 
too much and it is always better to feed *slowly*." 
     She bowed her head, ashamed of her actions.
     "No,  never be ashamed of what you are." he whispered, 
caressing her chin with a finger.
     "I'm sorry, I'm..."
     He placed his fingertips on her lips to silence her.
     "What you feel is normal.  Once you become accustomed 
to your 'new' body, your urges and desires will be much 
easier to control." 
     He reached down and got another bottle, this one for 
himself.  He uncorked it and drank its' contents.  She 
watched the blood slowly go down the sides of the bottle and 
disappear into his mouth.  In spite of herself, she felt the 
urge rise in her again.  She grabbed another bottle with such 
force that she crushed the neck in her hand. Shocked, she 
jumped back as blood went everywhere.  
     /Yes, my equal in *every* way./  he chuckled.
     She looked at him in confusion.
     He rose from sofa and extended his hand down to her, 
softly laughing  at her bewilderment. "I think before you 
destroy the rest of the case we should go lie down, don't 
you?"
     She scratched her head in disbelief, staring at the mess 
she had made on the sofa, herself and the floor.  Then she 
suddenly began to laugh, laugh like she hadn't done in ages.
     "Tell me, what do you find so amusing about ruining a 
leather sofa?" He asked, pulling her up off the now blood 
stained couch. 
     "Oh nothing.  I just realized, this isn't a dream, is it?"
     "No.  This is very real." he whispered, lifting her up to eye 
level and pressing his lips to hers.
     "Good."  she murmured against his mouth.
	

PART II


	She sat in the middle of the floor in front of the wall of 
glass waiting for the sun to rise. She had done this for the 
last few evenings, unable to rest because of the voices, the 
feelings.  Every night she had tried to concentrate, tried to 
learn the source of her trouble, but found nothing but the 
lives and thoughts of the mortals that passed by.  She knew 
something was going to happen, more than know, she felt it 
down to the marrow.  Lucien told her it was just her inability 
to filter out all of the noise she could now hear, but it wasn't 
that, she knew it, he knew it.  Their blood bond was too 
strong, he felt it too, that she was sure of, but like her 
couldn't put a name to 'it'.  So she came to the window to 
listen, to see if the 'it' would reveal its' name.  In the 
background, she could hear the Nightcrawler signing off for 
the night and feel him coming up behind her.  Still, she 
wouldn't, couldn't move, afraid that the 'it' would show itself 
as soon as she turned.   He came and sat down behind her, 
slipping his arms around her, and started to listen too.

A FEW NIGHTS LATER

	The scene was ugly, even seasoned cops were 
turning pale.  In theory, it shouldn't have been so grotesque.  
In theory, a body found beside a dumpster with a knife 
imbedded in the sternum  shouldn't be so messy, but it was.  
The body was mush, literally, as if someone had soaked it in 
acid before dumping it.  Logic told Nataile that's probably 
what happened, but  the   passerby that found the body 
swore that he tried to talk her right before he died, and the 
cops first on the scene said that the body was quivering 
when they arrived. All of this meant that the body turned to 
mush at the scene and in the space of about  ten minutes.   
Natalie knelt down beside the body and started to fill out her 
prelim and collect samples, trying to fight the urge to gag.
Nick started over to look at the body, when 'the' feeling hit 
him.
  "Nick, what is it?" Nat asked looking up from her report.
Nick knelt down beside her so no one else would hear.
   "He was one of us Nat."
   "But, how?  The knife wound didn't kill  him, and even if it 
did he would have *disappeared*, right?.  And what would 
cause a vampire to turn into this." she whispered, pointing 
her pen at the body of mush in front of them.
Just then Nick noticed something glistening under the trash 
beside the body. He reached to pick it up only to have it burn 
his fingertips when he did.  
   "Nat what is that?"
Taking the object up from where Nick had dropped it,  and 
placing it in a bag.
   "A hypodermic,  some junkie probably  dropped it."
   "No, let me look at it."
   "Here, look all you want."
He took the bag from Nat only to drop it again. Clenching his 
teeth he picked the bag up off the ground and peered at its 
contents, fighting the urge throw up. 
   "Nick, what the... " Nat began, noticing that Nick had 
turned an even paler shade of white
   "Nat look and tell me what you see in that syringe." he 
asked, holding the bag carefully away from him.
   "Well, it's clear, past that I'd have to analyze it at the lab."
   "Could it be water?"
   "All right Nick, what are you thinking?"
   "Holy Water."
   "What, you mean somebody attacked our friend here and 
injected him with holy water?"
   "Yes.  Nat... please... take it."  Nick stammered, trying to 
keep his 'breakfast' from making a return appearance.
   "But that would mean that the attacker would have to be 
a..."  she asked, quickly taking the bag and placing it in her 
coat pocket.
   "Hunter." 
   "Yeah, but why leave the body out  where someone would 
probably find it before sunrise?"
   "I don't know."
   "Nick, how am I going to explain this?"
   "Could you stall for a day?"
   "Nick, how cou..."
   "Please Nat.  I need a day, to talk to a couple of people."
   "Oh Nick, I hope you know what you're doing."
   "I hope so too, for all our sakes."  He said, reaching for her 
hand and squeezing it tight.

    Nick left the crime scene in a fog of worry and confusion.  
A vampire killer was running loose.  Worse yet, this hunter 
didn't care if anyone found out about vampires.  That didn't 
fit,  hunters are usually very discrete, but this one didn't care, 
and it just didn't fit.  He had to have answers before 
tomorrow, before Nat finished her report, before... it killed 
again.  Instinctively, he pointed the Caddy in the direction of 
the Raven, hoping he could solve this in time.

***********************	

	Lucien sat at his control panel sipping AB negative 
from a lead crystal glass.  He was worried.  Worried for 
Akerian, worried for himself.  Of course he felt what she felt, 
he too had known that something was going to happen. Now 
it had and all that was left to do was wait, again, until the 'it', 
as she called this *ghost*, revealed itself.  Strange, he had 
never been a sensitive  until he mated with her. /She gave 
more to me than she realizes,/  As he directed his attention 
to the panel in front of him he saw a figure moving towards 
his door and knew it was his son.  He would undoubtedly 
have questions and admonitions.  LaCroix smiled to himself, 
/This time Nicolas, you did not deny me./.
   "Nicolas, how good of you to drop by."  he smiled, 
successfully hiding his worry behind a mask of calm 
passiveness.
   "I need to talk."
Lucien raised a hand toward the chair in front of his desk.
   "There was a murder earlier to night."
   "Pity... another mortal wasted."
   "No, one of us."
   /She *has* turned us both into sensitives./
   "Oh, and how was it done?"
   "Probably two people, one stabbed the victim in the chest, 
distracting him long enough for someone else to stick a 
needle in his neck and inject him full of holy water."  Nick 
explained, rubbing his forehead out of worry and frustration. 
   "Interesting.  You mean you actually found a body?"
   "He didn't die immediately.  He managed to attract the 
attention of a passerby before he..." Nick tried to  choke back 
the fear and revulsion as he recalled the crime scene.  The 
fear that he might be next. The fear that 'they' would show 
up.
   "I shouldn't worry too much.  It sounds like both are 
mortals and even in your weakened condition you should be 
able to fight them off quite effectively, at least better than 
your 'victim' did.  You are right about one thing though, 'they' 
will probably show up. I myself hope they find the killers 
before you do."
   "How did you..."
The elder vampire silenced his son's question with an 
all-knowing smile.
   /I think I am going to like this new 'sensitivity'./.
   "What else is troubling you?"
   "I have felt something."
   "Oh? Do elaborate."  He bated, leaning back in his chair as 
quiet victory glided across his pale features. /Here it comes./ 
he thought.
   "You've brought someone across, but the feeling 
is...different."
   "'Different' how?"
   "It's as if there were two of  *you*."  
   "You mean *mated*?"  he asked, emphasizing the last 
word enough to cause his son to wince. 
   "Mated? But why?" 
With that all encompassing question, LaCroix let his mind 
reach out to his beloved and bade her to join them.
The sudden presence compelled Nick turned in his chair in 
time to see a figure he had seen before.  A knot formed in 
the pit of his stomach.
   "Hi Nick, it's been a while."  she said, reaching out to take 
his hand.
Reflexively, Nick clasped her hand, only to jump as if 
someone had electrified his chair.
Akerian jerked her hand back.  Images flooded their brains. 
She felt Lucien shift in his chair as he saw the images she 
saw.  
   "Hunters?"  she asked LaCroix in disbelief.  
   /Possibly/ he silently answered.
   "Well, now at least the 'it' has a name." she said with a half 
hearted smile, sitting in the chair to Nick's right.  Silently, as 
if obeying an unspoken request, Lucien slid the glass across 
the table to Akerian,  with a smile  and a silent thank you she 
gently lifted the glass to her lips.
   "How?"  Nick stammered.
After a silent glance at one another, LaCroix spoke.
   "It would appear that vampirism brings out latent 
'sensitivity' in some." 
   "But why?"
   /Is he always this loquacious?/ she thought.
   /No, but you must admit, it is entertaining./ he silently 
answered.
Akerian tried to stifle a snicker with her hand.  Recovering 
quickly, she shifted to look directly into Nick's eyes to make 
sure he understood.
   "Love."
   "How could ...?"
   "It's simple, you love Nataile and she you, she is trying to 
cure you, to make you like her, so you can be together, true?  
Same thing with us, only instead of my trying to 'cure' 
Lucien,  I asked him to bring me over, for the same reason, 
to be together." 
Nick shook his head,  trying to shake off the whammy she 
almost had on him. Damn, she was even stronger than 
LaCroix, that notion terrified him as much as the enforcers 
did.
   "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to *whammy* you."  She smiled, 
with a mixture of concern and amusement shining in her 
dark blue eyes.  "I'm still learning how to control...this."
   "No need to apologize my dear,  Nicolas knows all about 
control, or lack of.  Don't you?"  he asked, throwing a smug 
smile in Nick's direction.
Just as Nick opened his mouth to remind LaCroix of a few 
things, the flip phone in his breast pocket started to ring.  
Fumbling around in his inside breast pocket he found the 
source of his reprieve and gratefully answered it's call.
   "Knight here."
   "Nick, it's Nat, we've got a problem."
   "What now?"
   "Well, our 'friend' has cremated himself."
   "Cremated?"
   "Yep.  As soon as I got back to the lab, he was a pile of 
ashes  My next question is, how do I explain that  the body 
just cremated itself in a 70 degree room?"
   "Hang tight, I'll be there in a minute."  With a flick of his 
wrist, the call was ended and he was up from the chair and 
out the door.
      LaCroix rose from his chair and moved to stand behind 
Akerian.  He lightly gripped her shoulders to try and calm  
her fears.  She tilted her head back to give him a slight 
smile.  
   "I know I shouldn't be, but I am and I can't shake it."
   "I know."  he whispered softly as he massaged her 
temples. 


TWO NIGHTS LATER

     The rain started to come down in a slow drizzle when 
Akerian walked out of the lab early that black morning.  She 
could have flown, but thought the walk would help her think.  
It wasn't as though she had to worry about anyone attacking 
her now.  She smiled at that thought /my equal/.  The last 
month (Had it been that long already?) had been a strange 
and incredible dream.  She wanted desperately to tell Nat or 
for Nick to tell her, but she sensed he hadn't and neither had 
she.  /I don't know what I'm worried about, it's not like the 
enforcers would dare bother any of us. Nat has the 
community's trust./  Lost in thought, she didn't notice the 
shadow slide out from the alley until the knife was lodged 
firmly in her sternum. Reeling from the sudden shock more 
than pain, she stumbled backwards over a trash can, landing 
squarely on her back.  Before she could lift herself up, a  
cold iron hand clamped over her eyes and slammed her 
head into the pavement.  Feeling a sudden sharp, stabbing 
pain in her neck, she clawed at the side of her neck in time 
to find the hand still attached to the source of her pain.  A 
wave of coal fire shot through her body, causing her to 
clamp down on the mysterious hand.  She heard a crunch 
and a deafening wail as the world went pitch black around 
her.  

********************************

	LaCroix sat at his desk alone in the peaceful silence 
that came after each show.  As he sat  sipping a particularly 
good B negative while listening to the hum of  the throng in 
the club,  a wave of razor sharp pain ripped through his 
body.  A wave of  pain  so wrenching that he was driven to 
his knees. 
  "NO!"  He howled between clenched teeth, crimson life 
seeping from his nose and glowing red eyes. Blind instinct 
compelled him out the hidden back door and into the damp 
twilight air.

     Nick slumped down in the overstuffed leather chair and 
took a long drought  from the bottle in his hand.  It had been 
a torturous night,  a clueless rookie partner, a captain 
breathing down his neck about a missing body /never mind 
the damn thing  went up in a puff of smoke two nights ago/ 
and the worry.  Worry about LaCroix and his 'mate' /Great, 
two of them to deal with./  about Nat  /Oh by the way Nat, 
your best friend, well  LaCroix got lonely one night and 
brought her across.  And get this, she's stronger than he is./  
   "Nick?"
Brought  out of his mental rants by a familiar voice,  he 
turned to find Nat standing  beside the sofa table.  He sat the 
bottle on the floor and stood  to meet her.  She moved 
towards him  glancing down at the half empty bottle.
   "Rough night?"
He let out an exasperated sigh and wrapped his arms tightly 
around her.
   "I take that as a yes."  she murmured against his neck, 
hugging him tight.
   "Rough doesn't begin to cover it."  he whispered, gently 
stroking her hair.  He touched her cheek and prepared to do 
something he wanted to do all night. The pain blind sided 
him, hitting him so hard, he fell back against the chair.
   "Nick? What's wrong?" she asked, trying to help him regain 
his balance.
Recovering enough to know what he needed to do, he 
grabbed Nat and headed toward the window.
   "Nick what are you..."  Nat stammered as he led her to the 
window.
   "Please Nat, trust me." he pleaded, quickly kissing her 
forehead.
Natalie buried her head in his chest as he lifted them both 
out the open window. 

     By the time Nick found what he was looking for, LaCroix 
was already there.  The elder vampire  turned to face the two 
of them with Akerian's limp body in his arms.  His blood 
marked face twisted with pain and rage.  Fangs bared and 
eyes glowing blood red, he attempted to lift off.
   "LaCroix!  Wait!"  Natalie shouted.
Her plea shocked both Nick and LaCroix, who both paused 
and stared intently at her. 
   "Take her back to the lab, please,  I think I can help.  
Please!"
LaCroix tilted his head slightly to study the good doctor, his 
decision made, he lifted off into the night, praying she could 
help.  Nick grabbed Natalie again and followed LaCroix into 
the sky.  
	
   "Lay her down here."  Nat ordered LaCroix as she ran 
around the lab gathering  needles, tubing, and plasma.  In a 
pain induced haze, LaCroix didn't protest the doctor's orders 
and did as he was told.  He gently placed his beloved on the 
examiner's table as if  he were handling fine china.  Nat 
lightly touched the ancient's arm to move him out of her way. 
For the first time, she got a good look at the face of the one 
the two vampires were literally having pains over. The face 
was very familiar, in fact, she'd known it since med school.  
The eyes told her why her friend had suddenly started to 
work exclusively in the evenings, in short, they told her 
everything.
   "Oh my God!"  she stood there stunned at the vision that 
was in front of her.
   "Nat?"  Nick's voice brought her back to reality.
Automatically, Nat started to pull up the rain soaked shirt 
over her friend's abdomen and  inserted the needle directly 
into her stomach.  She began the transfusion of  the first pint 
of whole plasma,  hoping that it would give Akerian's body 
the strength to fight off , and maybe dilute, the holy water.  
Off hand she wondered why her friend's body wasn't 
decomposing as the other victim's did. 
   "Nick,  the other vampire,  was he... young?"  she asked 
moving the shirt over to examine the fresh knife wound /This 
isn't right, it should be healing./ and  keeping an eye on the 
shrinking blood bag in front of her /She's taken in almost pint 
but she's *not* healing/.  Nick's voice brought her out of her 
ruminations and back to the real world.
"Yes, no more than a couple hundred years, why?"  he 
answered, moving to get a closer look at what Akerian was 
clutching in her left hand.
Having her answer and a battle plan made, she cut off the 
line from the empty bag and taped it with another line, then 
turned to squarely face the one responsible for bringing her 
friend over. 
   "Roll your sleeve up,"  she ordered, holding the other end 
of  the line that contained a very serious looking needle in it.
Both father and son turned and looked at the doctor with a 
mixture of  shock and bewilderment. 
   "Look, I'm guessing the only reason she's not  mush now 
is, because of your blood, a *very old* vampire. If that's true, 
regular human plasma isn't going to do her as much good as 
your blood,  *a lot* more of your blood. True?"
Recovering from his shock, LaCroix nodded silently and 
began to roll up his sleeve and offer his arm to the doctor.  
Nataile reached for an IV line and took his arm, trying 
desperately to find anything that resembled a vein. /damn, 
this is like trying to stick marble/  
   "What would you expect from a *very old vampire*, 
Doctor?"  he flatly asked, never taking his eyes off the knife 
wound that should have already healed.  Natalie continued 
to poke his arm,  trying to hide her discomfort at having her 
own words thrown back to her.  Summing up the nerve to 
fight fire with fire, she decided to see just how old he was.
   "Just how old are you?"  she inquired, never taking her 
attention away from her task.
Silently giving the doctor credit for being able to give as good 
as she got, LaCroix  granted her an answer.
   "Mortal and immortal years combined, oh, two millennia." 
he answered, almost offhandedly, to add to the shock effect.
   "Wooah!  Two thousand years? I'm going to have to have 
a talk with Nick about his definition of 'old' "
Lightly amused at the doctor's attempts to hide her 
astonishment, he managed to smile.
   "Finally!"  with that exclamation, Nat stuck LaCroix and  
watched the crimson fluid flow through the clear tube and 
into the belly of her friend. She prayed to whoever might be 
listening that this worked.
   "I hope so to Doctor."  LaCroix said softly, looking down 
into her face.
Natalie looked up directly into the vampire's eyes and saw 
something she never expected to see, pain. 
   "Nick would you get me that stool by my desk, this is going 
to take a while." she asked, never taking her eyes off the her 
ancient adversary, watching him as he turned to watch his 
blood flow into Akerian.
Nick laid down the severed hand he had been studying and 
quietly did as Nat asked.  He was stunned when Nat ordered 
LaCroix to sit on the stool he thought he had gotten for her.  
Once again, Lucien  did as the doctor told him with out 
argument and thanked her.  Nick looked at Nat with a  silent 
amazement.  Nat led him to a corner of the lab so they could 
talk and she could maybe make some sense of  the last 
couple of hours.

   "Look, LaCroix is not my favorite person in the world and  I 
don't agree with what they did, but she is my friend and he 
*loves* her.  I could see it in his eyes.  Nick, I saw *pain* in 
his eyes." she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
Nick wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on 
her head.  It was going to be a long day.
   "She was clutching something in her hand." he  whispered.
   "What?" Nat asked, leaning back to look into Nick's weary 
face.
   "Well, it looks like Akerian grabbed her attacker's hand and 
ripped it off.  Even more interesting, the hand is still 
holding...a hypodermic."
   "Ripped it off?"  Nat asked, trying desperately to fit the 
image of Akerian actually hurting *anyone*.
   "Come here and look."  Nick bade as he led her over to left 
side of the table where he had placed the hand moments 
before. 
Lucien sat, watching the blood move between him and his 
beloved.  He let his gaze travel up over her stomach and 
come to rest on her expressionless, blood smeared face.  
The last month played out like a movie in his mind.  
Memories of days spent intertwined in bed, sharing each 
other the way only vampires could.  Evenings spent  
listening with his mind while she moved through the club 
quietly terrorizing the young vampires with her mere 
presence.  Hearing the young as they whispered amongst 
themselves, "She's *mated* with the General."  The twilights 
spent in deep discussion and quiet admiration.  What would 
he do if she died?  That thought made a knot  form in his 
throat.  A touch on his shoulder startled him out of his 
wrestling match with his deepest fear.  He turned to see his 
son looking  down at him. Was that pity he saw in his son's 
eyes?  Nick quietly handed his father a linen handkerchief to 
wipe the blood seeping from the corners of his eyes.  
LaCroix accepted the soft cloth and dabbed his eyes.
   "Nicolas, hear me now."  he said in a dead calm voice that 
raised the hair on the back of Nick's neck.  "I will tear this city 
apart and finish what Akerian started."  he finished, eyes 
glowing red with anger, pointing to the severed hand Natalie 
was studying with intense interest.
Fighting the urge to run, Natalie slowly and very calmly laid 
the hand down and turned to the counter behind her and 
prepared two slides.  Turning  back around and began to 
take a sample  from Akerian's forearm.  LaCroix looked at 
her, with arched brow over yellow eyes.  Seeing the 
vampire's 'concern', Natalie finished preparing her slide and 
moved to stand beside him, slide and needle in hand.
   "I'm taking  samples to see if the transfusion is doing any 
good."  she explained, drawing a sample from the IV line in 
LaCroix's arm and preparing the other slide.
   "The day shift will be coming in soon, so I'll have to move 
you two into the cooler.  There's no windows and no one will 
disturb you.  Besides, I want to keep check on both of  you."
Seeing the pallor of LaCroix's face grow whiter, she started 
to remove the needle from his arm.  He began to voice an 
objection, with an hand, she stopped him.
   "You won't do her any good in a weakened condition.  I'm 
going to give you a couple of pints of plasma to build you 
strength back up and if need be, we'll do another transfusion 
later, okay?"
LaCroix bowed his head in acquiescence.
Slides in hand, Natalie made her way to the microscope, 
leaving LaCroix  free to examine the knife wound more 
closely. Lightly following the edges of the wound, his 
fingertips began to smoke. Fully realizing what had been 
done to his equal /"full of holy water"/ he heard his son say, 
his teeth and eyes changed to match the rage boiled in him.  
It was all the ancient vampire could do to keep the blood lust 
from totally overtaking him.  Closing his eyes in a desperate 
attempt to regain some sort of control over his primal urge, 
he breathed deeply and turned his now yellow eyes back to 
Akerian.  Placing his hands on her temples,  he attempted to 
focus his power to call her back.  Getting a faint sound 
somewhere in the back of her mind, he began to talk to it.   
   /I will not allow an *animal* to take you away from me!! 
Come back to me!/
   "It's working doctor."  he stated quietly, still fighting to 
control the rage inside him.  
Natalie turned to face the pale vampire with a puzzled 
expression across her tired face.
   "How do you..."  she began.
Nick walked over to her table, trying to think of a way to 
explain a sensitive. 
   "Akerian was a latent sensitive. The vampire brought it to 
the surface, and when she and LaCroix mated, she gave the 
gift to LaCroix."
   "You mean she *infected* him with ESP?"  she asked Nick 
in astonishment.
   "A bit over simplified, but yes, that's it."  answered LaCroix, 
never taking his hands or eyes off his mate.
   "Ah."  breathed Nat, turning back to her microscope,  not 
wanting to get into a discussion on the subject.
   "What's the verdict?"  asked Nick, peering down at the 
blood stained slides.
   "Well, the transfusion did stop the destruction, but it seems 
her body is not repairing itself.  It's like she's stuck in a 
stasis."
   "There is no way to filter the blood, get the water out?"
   "Anything I could think of to do that, would filter *all* of the 
water in her blood and essentially dehydrate her.  The only 
thing I know to do is keep them both here and continue the 
transfusions."  she replied, turning to look up at Nick and 
then over to her two 'patients'. /And pray./ she silently 
finished.


PART III


     Three hours and one very heated debate later, it was 
decided that Akerian,  LaCroix, and Nick would move into 
the cooler until sunset and Natalie, despite her vehement 
objections, would go to the loft and rest for a few hours.  She 
finally relented only after giving Nick explicit instructions on 
what to check on every half hour and what to do every hour.  
After making Nick repeat her orders and after him reminding 
her that he use to be a doctor, and after she checked on her 
patients one last time, he took her in his arms and kissed her 
full and long on the lips, slipped her his keys and turned her 
to face the door.
     "Bring me a change of clothes?"  he whispered in her ear, 
slipping his arms around her one last time.  
     "Do I *look* like a maid to you?"  she teased, tightening 
her grip on his hands.
     "She'll make it, you know.  She has the blood of  a *very 
old vampire* in her and her will is strong,"  he said, brushing 
his lips against her temple.
     "First Richie, then Cindy.  I don't think I could go through 
it again."  her whisper almost a sob.
     "She *will* make it and *you* are *not* alone,"  he said, 
wishing he could take her fears away.    "Now,"  he 
continued, "Go get some sleep."
     With that soft command, she quietly walked out the door 
of the cooler, leaving Nick alone with his masters.  He stood 
and watch the door softly shut behind her, not wanting to 
turn around and face what he had been dreading since they 
arrived at the lab,  /Just what I needed,  LaCroix in a blood 
rage.  The enforcers are beginning to look good right now./  
     " 'Blood rage' does not even begin to describe what I feel!  
Better for you if  the enforcers find this animal first, they will 
*only* decapitate it.  I, however, have something far more 
fitting in mind!"  his master answered his thoughts between 
clenched teeth.  
     Fear, anger and frustration getting the better of him, Nick 
responded to his father's rampage by turning to face him 
with teeth bared and eyes glowing.
     "Listen, you are doing her no good ranting like this.  If you 
truly want to help, help me catch this monster before anyone 
else gets killed. LaCroix?"  he growled.
     "And if I do help you, what do you do when we catch it,  
hmm?  Do you let me do what the code  and my revenge 
demand?  Or do you put it in *jail* like a *good* detective?" 
the elder vampire hissed.
     With that stinging remark, Nick dropped his head and 
looked away.
     "I thought so!  Really Nicolas, your adherence to these 
mortal laws is very annoying!  If you won't do your duty then 
stay out of my way!"  he breathed.
     Just as Nick was about to lunge at his father, a deafening 
wail shot through both  vampires' brains, bringing them to 
their knees, clutching their heads.

     LaCroix managed to grab the edge of the gurney and 
steady himself enough to stand and look over his beloved.  
Placing his hand on her temple, he tried to calm her down, if 
he didn't, he and Nicolas would go mad from the pain.  
Managing to quieten her down enough to regain some of his 
vision, he saw something that terrified him.  Her eyes were 
wide open, as they had been when he brought her in, but 
they had changed, except for two black pin dots that were 
her pupils, her eyes were now entirely white.  Regaining 
control of his senses, he made his way over to his son to 
help him.  
Nick had already lifted himself up off the floor and had 
started towards the empty gurney where Nat had left  a small 
cooler with five pints of her 'special select' as she called it, 
when LaCroix made his way to him.  Both father and son 
looked at each other with blood tear streaked faces.
     "LaCroix, what's happening to her?"  Nick rasped.
     LaCroix silently led his son and two units of plasma to the 
gurney where Akerian lay.  
     "You tell me,"  he wearily replied, pointing to his mate's 
eyes.
     As Nick stood transfixed by the strange white eyes, 
Lucien willed his fangs to protract and bit open a gash in his 
wrist.  He opened his beloved's mouth with his free hand and 
held the bleeding wound down over it, hoping she had 
enough presence of mind to feed.  
     Relief and pleasure washed over him as his mate began 
to draw the blood out of his body. /Come back to me!/  he 
silently commanded her.

     After she drained about half of his body, Lucien managed 
to withdraw his wrist and promptly drank both pints of 
plasma.  Glancing down at his healing wound, he noticed 
something else strange;  her bite pattern wasn't the same as 
he remembered.  He leaned back over her and gently moved 
her lips back to reveal her protracted canines, her *four* 
protracted canines.
/What has this animal done to you?/ he silently wept.
     "LaCroix, look at this."  Nick bade, opening back 
Akerian's shirt to better revel the knife wound.
     Lucien deftly fingered the wound which at long last was 
closing.  
     "I'd take that as a good sign, wouldn't you?"  his son 
asked, looking up into his father's face.
At this small bit of good news, the ancient vampire breathed 
an audible sigh of relief, closed his eyes, and nodded in 
agreement. 
     "LaCroix, why don't you try and get some rest?"
     "Not now," he replied, still fingering the healing wound.
     "Listen, both of us will know if she needs anything,"  Nick 
said, moving to lightly touch his father's arm.
     "Why are you suddenly so concerned about my welfare?"  
he asked, shrugging off his son's touch.
     "Let's just say I understand what it means to have 
someone try and take a loved one away from you,"  Nick 
softly answered, his eyes boring holes into his master.
     "So you finally admit to 'loving' Dr. Lambert?" he 
breathed, gently stroking his beloved's hair, fighting to hold 
in his rage.
Nick simply nodded.
     "Why   the sudden *urge* to confess what I've known all 
along?  Is it because you feel that my bringing Akerian over 
frees you to openly pursue Dr. Lambert?" he asked, turning 
to once again face his wayward child.
     "I think it does.  You bring over Natalie's best friend to be 
your *mate*, fine, that's between you and her.  At lest give 
me the same consideration to pursue Natalie in the way I 
want to,"  he pleaded, his mouth having won the race against 
his brain.
     Before he could launch another verbal attack, he sensed 
a mortal presence coming toward them.  Both vampires shot 
each other glances as the door slowly opened.
     "We'll discuss this later,"  LaCroix murmured.

     Natalie stood in front of the steel door taking several deep 
breaths, trying to steady her nerves.  She was afraid of what 
might be on the other side, and that fear wasn't helped by 
the nightmares she had when she tried to sleep at Nick's.  
Neither his pajamas nor his bed could keep the cold terror 
she felt as soon as she closed her eyes, at bay.
     Summoning up every ounce of courage she had left in 
her, she reached with her free hand and pulled the latch 
open, prepared to face the worst.  What she saw unnerved 
her.  Both vampires, with blood smeared faces, were 
standing on either side of the gurney staring at Akerian 
intently.  At her entrance, Nick wobbled towards her, thinking 
of a way to try and explain and wondering why she was back 
here so soon.
     "Nick what..."
     "It's all right, we're fine, Akerian just gave us a wake up 
call,"
     "Wake up call?"
     "She's coming up out of the stasis, and..." he rasped, 
shaking his head to clear the last of the pain fog.
     "And' what?"  she asked, her eyes growing wider.
He led her over  to the side of her friend's gurney.
     "Oh my God,"  she breathed, as she caught sight of her 
friend's white eyes.
     Absently handing Nick the hanging bag containing his 
clothes, Nat quickly moved out of the room.  In a flash, she 
was back with another set of slides in hand.  Reaching to 
draw a sample from Akerian's wrist, she noticed a small 
stream of blood leaking down the corner of her mouth.  
     "How much did she take from you?"  Nat asked, turning 
her head to cast a glance over her shoulder at LaCroix, 
noting that his pallor was still far too pale.
     "About half."
     "Half of your body's store?"  she asked, returning to her 
blood drawing.
     "Yes,"  he whispered.
     "Did you..." she began, never looking up from her work at 
hand.
     "I drank two of those," he answered, motioning toward the 
open ice chest.
     Finishing her slides in time to see what he motioned to, 
she turned to leave the cooler.
     "Go ahead and take the rest while I look at these,"  she 
quietly stated, as Nick opened the door for her and shut it 
softly behind them.

     Hearing the soft thud of the door, Natalie released the 
breath she had taken in when she saw those eyes, those 
bone chilling eyes.  Nick griped her shoulders tightly to 
steady her.
     "Nick what's happening to her?"  she sobbed,  as he 
reached for the slides and placed them on the corner of the 
counter.  He turned her around to face him, drawing his arms 
tightly around her and burying his face in her hair. 
     "I asked LaCroix the same thing, but even he doesn't 
know.  I would have said she was dead except that she 
damn near blinded us both when she came out of her coma 
and she almost drained him when he fed her."
     "Blinded?  How?"  she asked, looking up wearily into 
Nick's eyes.
     "The same way I knew she was hurt, the blood bond and 
her sensitivity,"
     Nat pulled away from the safety of Nick's arms, wiping the 
tears from her eyes and turned to gather the slides up from 
the counter.
Nick gently ran his hand under her chin to look into her eyes.
     "I'll be fine,"  she whispered, answering his concerned 
look.
Picking up the slides, she headed down the counter to her 
microscope, with Nick right behind her.

*************************

     Lucien wiped the sticky blood from his eyes and walked 
over to the cooler again to retrieve the remaining pints of 
plasma.  After drinking the three that were left, he went to 
Akerian's side.  Gathering his Beloved Equal up in his arms, 
he carried her over to the far corner of the room and settled 
down, holding her close to him, desperately trying to reach 
through the pain and into her mind  to draw her out of her 
darkness. He could feel her body changing, trying to accept 
the thing that had very nearly killed her. 
/That's why your eyes and teeth have changed, the water is 
transmuting the vampire, transmuting you./
     She was healing too, yes, very slowly, but healing.  The 
scar on her chest was starting to fade. Feeling her mind 
begin to stir, Lucien opened his shirt to expose his upper 
chest.  Taking in a deep breath, he pushed his index finger 
into the flesh above his heart, causing crimson life to seep 
out over his fingers and down his chest.  He guided his 
Beloved's mouth down to the wound, silently bidding her to 
feed.  He shuddered as Akerian's fangs slid into the flesh 
around the closing hole and locked his arms around her as 
she began to draw life from it.

     Natalie pushed away from the microscope, closing her 
eyes and shaking her head in disbelief at what she had just 
seen.
     "What is it?"  Nick asked, gripping her shoulders and 
gently massaging  the knots that used to be her muscles.
     Deciding that showing would be better than trying to 
explain, she replaced Akerian's slide with the one she had 
taken earlier from LaCroix.
     "Look at this," she told Nick, moving away so he could 
peer into the microscope.
     "What am I looking for?"  he asked, squinting into the 
eyepieces.
     "That's the sample I took from LaCroix, ie 'normal' 
vampire blood."
     Hearing the words normal and vampire used together in 
the same sentence, Nick glanced up at Nat with a mixture of 
bemusement, confusion and total shock.  Returning his look 
with a slight smile, Natalie replaced the slide with the one 
she had just taken from Akerian.
     "Now look at this,"
     "What the..."  he stammered.
     "Exactly what I thought,"  she whispered.
     "This doesn't look..." he began.
     "Right?"  she finished.
     Still taken back by what he'd seen, Nick could only nod 
his answer.
     Natalie lifted herself up off of the chair, and started 
toward the cooler door, a hand on her shoulder stopped her.  
She turned and looked up into Nick's questioning eyes as he 
gently cupped her face in his hands.
     "I'm fine, better now than I was ten minutes ago in fact.  I 
know now that at least she isn't dying, changing into 
something unknown, but not dying,"  she whispered, 
covering his hands with hers, trying to fight back her tears.  
Nick pulled her into a tight embrace and softly kissed her 
tears away, moving at last to her lips and covering them with 
his own.  Natalie returned his kiss with a fierce and 
desperate hunger born from fear and need. He answered 
her hunger by crushing her against his chest and covering 
her jaw and neck with fleeting kisses.  Feeling his fangs 
slipping from their pockets,  he lifted his head, taking a deep 
breath and resting his cheek against her temple.
     Natalie closed her eyes and sighed, and for one brief 
moment everything outside of Nick's strong arms slipped into 
oblivion.   Soft lips pressed against her temple gently rousing 
her out of the peaceful nothingness.
     "We'd better go check on them,"  he murmured into her 
ear.
     "Thank you,"  she said, pressing her lips to his cheek.
     "For?"  he asked, caressing her cheek.
     "Driving the demons away,"  she smiled, taking his hand 
in her's and walking to the cooler door.
                                                                                                                                                           
Natalie opened the door to find Akerian and LaCroix gone.  
The words had almost formed in her mouth when Nick 
stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
     "In the far corner," he whispered.
     She looked past the gurneys and saw a dark colored 
mass leaning up against the wall.  Annoyed that LaCroix 
moved her friend, she broke away from Nick and started 
toward them.  Natalie covered her mouth to keep from 
saying anything to disturb them.  She continued to watch 
them in silent fascination, as Nick came up behind her.  He 
nervously cleared his throat and stepped back away from 
Natalie when he saw the two ancient vampires in such an 
intimate position.  Nat turned and caught a glimpse of  Nick's 
eyes before he turned away from her, they were gold.
     "Nick?"  she whispered, moving towards  him.
     "I'll explain later," he answered, holding out his hand to 
stop her from touching him.
     Hearing the whispers of his son and the good doctor, 
Lucien lazily opened his eyes and watched Dr. Lambert with 
slight amusement as she turned back and saw Akerian 
feeding.
     "Doctor, I didn't realize you were such a voyeur,"  he 
murmured,  still relishing the feel of  his beloved drawing 
strength from him.    
     "I'm...sorry....I didn't mean to stare,"  she stammered, 
turning away from them as her face flushed with 
embarrassment.     
     Taking the small moment of privacy that the Doctor's 
prudish behavior afforded him, he reluctantly placed his 
hand against his mate's temple and gently began to wean 
her away from his breast.  
/I'm getting weak./    he silently pleaded, feeling her 
resistance.
     Natalie managed to regain her composure and turned 
back around to see Akerian pull away from LaCroix, she 
couldn't believe her eyes,   her friend was *moving*.  She 
knelt down beside LaCroix and put her fingers under 
Akerian's chin and looked into her eyes, they were still white 
but there was a faint ring of blue around the edge.  Through 
the blood that was smeared across her mouth, Nat caught 
sight of her fangs and shook her head in amazement.
     "Four?"  she asked looking at the ancient vampire in 
amazement.
     "It would appear that the holy water is transmuting her,"  
he whispered.
     "How did you..."  she stammered.
     "ESP,"  he dryly replied, holding his beloved's head 
against his shoulder.  "Doctor," he continued, "Sunset will be 
here soon, I will take Akerian home and care for her there,"  
Seeing Dr. Lambert open her mouth to protest, Lucien 
arched his eyebrow and held up his finger to stop her.  "You 
may come and check on her anytime you like, but I will take 
her back with me.  You and I both know there isn't much we 
can do now except continue to feed her and wait.  True?"
     "Yes, you're right," she whispered.
     Lucien tilted his head and considered his mate's oldest 
friend, he knew enough about her to know that she must 
have almost choked on those words. Instead of twisting the 
knife in deeper, he decided instead to placate the doctor, for 
Akerian's sake.
     "As I said Dr. Lambert, you may visit *any* time you 
choose, Nicolas has the key, but please do me...us the 
courtesy of knocking before you enter our chambers,"  he 
said, smiling as the last few words passed his lips, noting 
that the good doctor had turned away as a new blush 
washed over her face.
     Regaining his own composure, Nick moved to kneel 
beside Natalie, only to have to once again fight his primal 
urge when he saw her beautiful face washed with a blush 
that made him want her even more.  LaCroix, sensing the 
change coming over his son, raised an eyebrow at him as he 
turned away to hide his golden eyes from  his father and  his 
mortal love.
     /Nicolas, why do you torment yourself so?/  Lucien quietly 
mused. 
     Getting her embarrassment under control, Natalie turned 
to face the ancient vampire once again.
     "All right, take her home at sunset, but if *anything* 
happens, call me...please,"  she stated, having to force the 
last word out of her mouth.
     LaCroix closed his eyes and nodded, in silent 
acquiescence.  

     Nick grasped Nat by the shoulder as he glanced at 
Akerian nestled tenderly in his father's arms.
     "I'm going to go change and try to figure out a way to 
avoid the Captain for the duration of my shift,"  he said, 
wearily smiling at Nat as he rose to his feet, drawing Natalie 
up with him.
    


     Lucien glanced down at his peacefully resting mate, 
carefully kissing the blood away from the corner of her 
mouth, and began to re-button his shirt.  The dark material 
stuck to his fingers.  Studying his hands further revealed 
why.  His fingertips were covered with sticky blood, blood 
that was beginning to *burn* his skin.  He touched his 
smoking fingers to his lips, tasting the blood that was 
undeniably his Mate's, but it was different,  it was wondrously 
sweet, but it singed his tongue the minute it made contact.  
Caught up in the wave of relief and passion when she fed, 
he had accidently drawn the blood from the nape of her neck 
with his nails, her *new* blood.
     "Dr. Lambert, would you wait a moment?"  he asked, 
moving himself and his beloved up from their sitting position.
Natalie and Nick stopped in their tracks, looking at each 
other with caution.  
     "Go on and change in the bathroom, I'll be fine,"  she 
whispered, giving him a slight smile.
     "Are you..."  he started, looking into her eyes with deep 
concern.
     "I'm sure.  Go on, I'll be *fine*,"  she reassured him.
     Letting out a long sigh, Nick reluctantly gathered up his 
clothes bag from the gurney he'd left it on and headed out 
the door.
     Natalie turned and very nearly ran over LaCroix,  who 
had laid Akerian back on the gurney and moved up behind 
her as she whispered  to Nick.
     "What's wrong?"  she asked, looking up into those ice 
blue eyes.
     Lucien held up his hand, fingers still smouldering, in 
between them as his answer.
     "What the hell?"  she stammered, gingerly touching the 
tips of his fingers.
     Lucien clenched his teeth, trying desperately to hold his 
rage in check.  This was not the doctor's fault, this was the 
work of an animal, an animal who violated both he and his 
mate in the most intimate way. 
     "Her blood is *poison* to me!  This animal has turned 
*our* blood against me!"  he choked, red streaks running 
down his pale cheeks.
     Seeing  the vision in front of her made her heart ache.  
The very creature she thought unable to feel anything other 
than hate was *crying*.  The sudden need to comfort him 
took hold of her and she found herself clutching his hand 
tightly in hers, crying with him.  Reaching blindly into her lab 
coat, she took out a surgical sponge she carried for 
emergencies and began to gently wipe the blood from his 
fingers. Taking several deep breaths to clear her head as 
she cleaned her foe's hand, an idea struck her.
     "Maybe not,"  she stated, staring past his smoking hand, 
focusing intently on some unseen thing.
     "What?!"  he asked, incredulously, snatching his hand 
from hers, wondering  through his red haze if the good 
doctor had taken complete leave of  her mortal senses.
     His sudden movements startled Natalie out of her mental 
figuring.  She grabbed his hand again to get his attention 
before he decided to totally unleash his anger on her and 
everything else in the room.
     "Listen to me...Please!"  she begged.  "The water didn't 
kill her because of her age, instead it *changed* her.  Why 
couldn't it do the same to you?"
     LaCroix stopped cold and considered the doctor through 
blood red eyes.
     Noting his eye color Natalie quickly continued. 
     "If you are willing, I can draw very small amounts from 
Akerian and inject them into you, gradually increasing the 
amount until your blood is the same as hers,"
     Lowering his head to consider the doctor's offer and 
regain some small amount of his dwindling control, he began 
to nod his permission.  
     "Do it,"  he breathed, looking down into her eyes.
	

PART 4

	
     Lucien arrived at the back door of the club with a terrible 
hangover and a maddening ache in his bones. Against Dr. 
Lambert's wishes, he had left the morgue after surviving two 
injections of his Beloved's blood, how he did not know.  The 
first injection had very nearly driven him mad with pain,  the 
second only slightly less so.  Even now the ache throughout 
his entire body made him set his jaw so tight he wondered if 
he would crush his teeth.  He couldn't stay in that dreadful 
place any longer, the stench of death made him ill and he 
had longed to rest in his own bed with his Beloved, even if 
that meant having to deal with Dr. Lambert making  house 
calls until she was satisfied that her 'patients' were in no 
danger.  
     Making a mental note to find out who replaced the door in 
his absence, he made his way inside with his precious 
burden.  After carefully laying Akerian down on the bed and 
making sure she wasn't about to stir, he moved about the 
room gathering the items he'd need for them. 

***************************

     Most of the mortals had begun to thin out when the 
denizens of the Raven felt *their* presence.  Of course all of 
them knew what had happened, two of their own had been 
brutally attacked, worse yet one was the General's mate.  
Those who dared moved about the city did so very quickly 
and spent the remainder of their time inside the club.  The 
spare rooms had been filled by those who dare not tempt 
whatever lay outside.  The community was afraid, for if this 
thing had the strength to attack one with Akerian's power 
and blood ties, it surely had the power to do away with them 
also.

     Urs was at the bar contemplating another glass of the 
house special, watching the mortals and vampires mix in that 
timeless dance of predator and prey, when she felt the 
Elders return.  She stared intently at the empty glass and bit 
her lower lip, should she go and ask the General about 
Akerian?  Yes, the ancient vampire terrified her and she 
usually gave him a very wide birth, but she liked Akerian.  
Since she'd been brought across and moved in with the 
General, Akerian had been very kind to her,  more so than 
the rest of the community.
     It was nice to have someone to talk to, that part of 
humanity she hadn't lost, the need for companionship, the 
need for a friend.  Akerian was her friend, that was the 
answer to her quandary.
She tentatively left her perch and made her way to the door  
of the control room, took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
     The room was dark except for a few small flashing lights 
on the mass of audio equipment that ran up the far wall.  The 
door to the Elders' private quarters lay partially hidden 
beside the broadcasting equipment.  Closing her eyes and 
taking another deep breath, she stepped closer and softly 
knocked,  fighting to keep her heart in her chest and not her 
throat.

     Lucien had first felt the presence while he was in the back 
of the walk-in closet/bathroom retrieving a damp bath cloth 
and the silk shirt Akerian had appropriated from him for use 
as a night shirt.  He walked out of the closet and continued 
his ministrations to his beloved, wiping the sticky blood away 
from her mouth and eyes, stripping her of the rain and blood 
stained clothing and replacing it with the preferred soft, clean 
black silk.  The last of the buttons had been fastened when 
he heard the tentative knock on the door  to the  outer room.
     Laying his mate back down on the soft mattress, he 
tucked the covers around her shoulders and brushed her lips 
tenderly with his, and turned to go see who dared to disturb 
them.

     Fear having gotten the better of her, Urs had made it half 
way across the broadcast booth when *he* opened the door.  
In two steps he stood directly in front of her, blocking her 
exit, looking down on her with steel blue eyes, eyes that she 
suspected could put fear into an enforcer and made her want 
to crawl under the nearest rock.  
     "Yes?"  he breathed,  staring down into a cherub's face.  
He gave Javier Vachon credit, he chose this child well.
     "I'm sorry to have bothered you...but I...I wanted to see 
how Akerian is doing."
     "Ah, I see." he whispered, debating on what he should do 
next.
     "Yes...I...well she has been very kind to me...she would 
always have a drink with me when she returned from her 
job...while you finished your broadcast.  It...was...is nice to 
have someone to talk to."  she stammered, still trying to get 
her brain to form a complete sentence.
     The ancient one pursed his lips, in part to keep from 
laughing at this poor fledgling's paralyzing terror of being 
face to chest with him and also to consider the idea that had 
occurred to him as she tried to speak.  Of course he knew 
that his mate had taken Urs under her wing.  He had to 
admit that he was touched that the child had worked up the 
nerve to ask him about Akerian, when it was obvious that 
she would rather not be anywhere near him.
     "Actually my dear, you've come at a very fortuitous 
moment.  I unfortunately will have to attend to some 
business tomorrow evening and desire someone to sit with 
Akerian while I'm out, I don't want her to be alone and if I 
can't be with her, I want someone she trusts.  I know the two 
of you get along quite well and I was hoping you would 
consent to sit with her?" he asked in a silky whisper.
     For her part, Urs couldn't quite make his request stick in 
her fear fogged brain.  *He*  was asking *her* for a favor?  It 
just didn't make sense.  Thankfully her subconscious took 
over the running of her mouth and answered for her while 
her conscious was still in a state of total shock.
     "Certainly...I'd be honored to."  
     "Good.  It's settled then, I'll find you tomorrow evening.  
Now I would suggest that we all need rest, hmmm?"  he 
smiled, still very amused with this child's behavior.  /And to 
think, she and Akerian have gotten into heated debates over 
health care reform./  he silently mused, stepping aside to let 
her pass.

     Sensing his mate beginning to wake from her semi-coma, 
he quickly walked back to their chambers, shutting the outer 
door behind him.
On his way into their bedroom, he stopped at the cabinet 
that housed a few of his favorite vintages.  Lucien selected 
three bottles, pausing long enough to open and take a long 
draught from one before he returned to his Beloved's side.  
     He sat down on the edge of the bed, placing the bottles 
on the bedside table, and touched her temple, trying to find 
signs of consciousness.  She was still in some pain, but the 
pain was much like his, it was a constant maddening ache.  
Her mind was another matter, he couldn't read any cognizant 
thought, it was as if the water  had turned her brain to mush.  
Somehow that made twisted sense,  she'd been injected in 
the neck, so it stood to reason that it had hit her brain like a 
sledgehammer.  Again the rage inside him threatened to boil 
out of him.  Would she truly heal? Or would she be a 
vegetable, stuck somewhere between immortal death and 
immortal life?   Her unseeing eyes shot opened, the first 
hunger had hit her full force.
     Lucien slipped his hand beneath her head and guided her 
mouth to the bottle he'd just opened.  Akerian blindly drank, 
unable to see or hear, hunger and pain the only things 
driving her actions.  Finishing the first bottle, her mate 
quickly replaced it,  / 'It's always better to drink slowly.' / he 
could hear himself  telling her on the night of her rebirth.  
/Except when an animal tries to kill you with holy water./  the 
voice in the back of his mind added.  /Revenge will truly be 
sweet, and its' own body will lead me to it./  he thought, 
looking over at the ash white hand that he slipped out of  Dr. 
Lambert's lab, laying on the corner table 
     Her hunger finally sated, Akerian's eyelids became heavy 
with the sating of the hunger.  Lucien carefully laid her head 
back against the pillow, wishing she could have fed from 
him, but flying home and the good doctor's injections had 
made him far too weak.  Taking the bath cloth and the last 
bottle from the night stand, he uncorked it and started back 
to the closet to change, even though it was still a good hour 
before sunrise.  The pain, worry and rage had driven him 
past the point of exhaustion.  Reaching the shower, he 
opened the frosted glass door and twisted the tap, letting the 
water run while he discarded his clothes on the edge of the 
counter.  He stepped into the fog and stood under the 
scalding spray, letting it wash the dried blood and the 
mortal's dirt away.  

      Nick  turned off the ignition, glanced over at Nat's car 
and smiled.  He had called her from the station right after he 
and Tracy  got the riot act read to them by the Captain and a 
very annoyed Crown Prosecutor.  The rest of his shift had 
been spent pushing papers and thinking things that made 
him reach for the phone mid way through the stack of  
self-replenishing reports.  He dialed a number he knew in his 
sleep, asked three questions, smiled at the answer to one, 
rubbed his forehead at the answers to the other two and  
had the receiver  back in its' cradle before Tracy made her 
way back from the coffee pot.   
     In two quick motions, Nick had closed the door and 
removed his jacket. A third motion saw his gun hanging over 
the back of a dinning chair.  Reaching the refrigerator, the 
weary detective tugged open  the door and reached for a 
bottle of sustenance.  In one long drought he managed to 
empty half the bottle, then, thinking of Nat's reaction to cow, 
he reached back in and got the container of fruit punch that 
had mysteriously appeared within the last two days.  His 
stomach lurched when the sweet fruity stench hit his nose.  
/How does she drink this?/  Forcing down a mouth full and 
quickly shoving the container back from whence it came, he 
took his preferred bottle and made his way to the back of the 
sofa.  Without a sound, he sat the bottle on the end table 
and  stood there, mesmerized by what he saw.  She was 
wearing his pajamas, curled up under the comforter from his 
bed. He swore in that moment that she had never looked 
more beautiful.   He bent down, resting his elbows on the 
back of the couch and  brushed the hair away from her 
cheek. 
     
     Gently roused from her sleep by a cool whisper on her 
cheek, she turned and saw her golden knight smiling down 
at her.
     "Hi," she murmured.
     "Hi yourself.  Why didn't you go up to bed?" he asked, 
nodding his head toward the stairs.
     "I wanted to wait up for you,"  Nat replied, propping 
herself up on the couch with her elbows,  "How was your 
night?"
     "Oh, let's see,  I got the riot act read to me by Reese and 
the Crown and finished off my evening by burying myself 
under a pile of  reports that seemed to grow rather than 
shrink,"  he reported, reaching for her hand,  "Other than 
that, my night was just peachy.  How about you?"  he asked, 
pressing  her fingertips up to his cool lips.   
     "The 'riot act'?"  she asked,  moving her fingers from his 
lips, brushing the curls away from his forehead.
     "Mmmm, chapter 6:  "Shaky witness and no body equals 
no case,"  he replied, gently pulling her hand away from his 
forehead and kissing the knuckles.
     "Hang on a minute," he smiled as he backed away from 
her and disappeared up the stairs.         
  
     Before Nat had time to wonder what had gotten into him, 
Nick was sitting on the edge of the couch wearing a set of  
blood red pajamas, guiding  her up to a sitting position.
     "Wha...?"  she began.
     "Hold still,"  he bade,  moving behind her, working his 
legs around so she was in between his thighs.  He slipped 
his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his chest.  
     "Now,"  he breathed,  "how was *your* night?"  he 
murmured,  kissing her temple.
          Natalie closed her eyes and sighed.  She didn't know 
exactly what happened between he and LaCroix after she 
left, and right now she didn't really care.  She needed him, 
needed his strength to bolster her and  help her make sense 
of the last two days.  And here he was, wonder of  wonders, 
holding her without the fear that had tainted his every action 
towards her since last Valentine's day.  It had taken a few 
weeks after that night, but  her memory of  what happened 
between the three of them had returned, taking away much 
of the hope she had for her and Nick ever getting any closer.   
     "Nat?"  he asked, touching her cheek.
     "Hummm...oh...'how was my night?' Well,  you know that 
the holy water is  mutating Akerian?"  she asked, shifting  in 
his arms just enough to face him.
      He nodded, reaching to run his fingers through her hair.
      "Well  it gets better.  Her blood has the same effect on  
vampires that holy water does,"
      "What, you mean it burns?"  he asked incredulously, 
stopping in mid reach.
      "Yep.   LaCroix got some on his fingers.  It singed them 
just like the hypodermic did your's the other night." 
      Nick closed his eyes and shook his head. Changing her 
blood?  LaCroix would be ready to take out half of  Toronto 
by sunset.
     "Nick?"  she asked,  fingering his jaw.
     "Should I even ask how LaCroix took it?"  he sighed.
     "Not very well... until I offered him a solution,"  she 
replied, apprehensively.
     "What do you mean 'solution'?"  he asked, trying to 
control the fear he suddenly felt.
     "Well I suggested that I could,  if he was willing,  inject 
him with very small amounts of Akerian's new blood until he 
became immune to it,"  she answered,  attempting to steel 
herself against what she *knew* Nick would say next.
     Nick slumped against her, resting his head heavily on 
hers.  
     "You mean he's going to change into what ever it is that 
Akerian is becoming?  Nat why?  When we don't even know 
what *that* is?"  he wearily whispered in her ear.
     "Nick I had to do something or he was going to go into a 
blood rage and do Heaven only knows what.  At least by 
doing it this way I can regulate the rate at which he changes, 
so he can adjust to it and hopefully be able to tell us what 
*that* is,"  she looked up at him, silently pleading for his 
understanding.
     "When do you give him another injection?"  he asked, 
kissing her ear lob, answering her silent plea. 
     "I told him I'd be at the Raven at sundown,"  she 
breathed, and turned in his arms and kissed him for all she 
was worth.

************************

     He woke from a fitful sleep covered in a sheen of blood 
sweat.   Shaking his head to rid himself of the blood lust that 
had come over him in his nightmare, he reached over to find 
his mate. She hadn't moved from the position he placed her 
in twelve hours before but she was stronger.  He could hear 
the thoughts fighting to form in her brain, her body and mind 
struggling to understand what was happening.  He rose to 
kneel beside her, covering her forehead with his right hand.  
Breathing deeply, he began to probe her thoughts and 
feelings, looking for some answers as to what they were 
becoming.  Dr. Lambert's injections had strengthened the 
connection between he and his mate, for that he was 
thankful, but he was not so gracious concerning the dull 
ache that continued to reverberate in his bones and teeth.  
Teeth?  With a small grimace, he ran his tongue across his  
gums and found the source of at least part of his ache. Yes, 
there they were, four razor-sharp canines barely hiding in his 
swollen gums.  He closed his eyes and breathed deep, 
allowing the smell of his Mate's blood to call out the beast.  
The change was coming over him, but it was *different*.  He 
felt almost as if he had overfed.  The rush of   drunken power 
was indescribable.  Somewhere in the stupor that washed 
over him, he opened his eyes and realized that his Beloved 
was staring up at him.  She was desperately trying to speak 
to him through the chaos. She was bidding him to feed.
      At the sound of that word in the back of his mind, Lucien 
pulled her body close to his chest and cradled her head in 
his hands, blindly seeking the tender flesh of her nape.  The 
first rush of her blood in his mouth hit him like a thunder 
strike, causing him to clamp down on his Mate's neck even 
harder, refusing to let the pain drive him from her.  
     It was the death spasms all over again.  Every muscle in 
his body knotted and wrenched uncontrollably. Fangs felt as 
if they were being pulled out of their pockets and the blinding 
pain in his head caused blood to seep from his eyes and 
mouth. He felt himself  let Akerian drop down to the sheets.   
Latching onto the wrought iron head board, he screamed, 
the metal bending and breaking in his grip, his new blood 
morphing his body. 
    As quickly as it had begun, it was over.  A calmness 
settled over Lucien as his body slowly allowed him to regain 
control.  He looked down at his pale blood smeared body 
and attempted to catch his breath.  Out of the corner of his 
blood tinted eye he saw something which finished drawing 
him back to reality.  The hand of Akerian's attacker was as 
he had left it the evening before, sitting on the corner table, 
waiting.  Lucien turned and cupped his Mate's cheek in his 
bloody hand,  a mask of peaceful rest had settled on her 
ageless face, closing her eyes and calming the chaos in her 
mind.  /I will finish this to night./  he silently promised her as 
he turned and carefully crawled out of his side of the bed 
and  made his way to the bathroom to clean up;  he had 
hunting to do.


     The soft thud of the large steel door echoed in the dark, 
empty club as  Nick protectively slid his arm around Natalie 
and guided her  across the barren dance floor.  Such a 
simple act taken for granted by most, but for them it would 
have meant death until yesterday.  Despite the fact that his 
master teetered on the edge of a blood rage and a good 
friend lay in a semi-coma, Nick couldn't help but feel hope 
after their brief sparing in the morgue. Yes, he knew that 
they would finish that particular discussion at a later date, 
but he had made it known that their old 'agreement' was 
rendered null and void the moment LaCroix had brought 
Nat's best friend across.   All of this had given him the nerve 
to invite Nat to spend the day with him, the nerve to get 
closer to her than he'd ever been.                                                                                                 
     The day had been something he'd dreamed of for the last 
four years.  He woke on the sofa covered in a mass of black 
silk and chestnut hair.  Running his fingers through the mass 
of dark curls that covered his upper chest, he found his 
beautiful Natalie, peacefully sleeping on top of him.  He 
thought for one split second he was dreaming, but she 
opened her eyes and smiled up at him.  At that point, he 
*knew* he'd died and gone to Heaven  and he continued to 
think that for the rest of the day.  They spent the entire day in 
their pajamas, curled up on the couch talking...and planning.

******************************

     Urs sat crossed legged in the over stuffed leather chair 
carefully flipping the pages of a book written in a language 
she recognized to be classical Latin.  Akerian had taught her 
a few 'gutter' phrases, but those she found out, did her no 
good when trying to read the 'official' version of said 
language on pages in front of her. 
      Heartbeats began to distract her from her mental 
wrestling with the text in her lap.  Closing her eyes, she 
clearly sensed a mortal and an elder vampire coming 
towards the living room  door. Quietly laying down the 
leather bound volume on the table beside her,  she rose to 
go meet  Dr. Lambert and Detective Knight.  She turned her 
head to look back at her friend laying motionless on the large 
bed.  Akerian hadn't moved since the General had fed her 
right before he left.  It still bothered her seeing Akerian laying 
there.  It wasn't that she saw  her friend in such a vulnerable 
state,  it was the fact that  she felt a very weird, unnerving 
sensation when she got near her.  It was nothing like the 
sensation she use to feel around her.  Come to think of it, 
she felt that same strange sensation when the General came 
to get her.  The two of them had been changed, she couldn't 
even begin to guess how, but they were different, very 
different.  

*****************************

     Nick stopped in the middle of the dance floor and stood 
stock still. He didn't feel LaCroix anywhere in the club.
     "Nick?"  Nat asked, reaching up to touch his cheek.
     "LaCroix isn't here,"  he breathed.
     "Are you..."  she anxiously began.
     "Yes,"  he answered, closing his eyes and taking a deep 
breath, attempting to steady his nerves.
     "But where?  It's barely sunset,"  she pleaded, refusing to 
listen to the voice in the back of her mind.
     "You said that hand went missing?"  he asked, tightening 
his arm around her to steady them both.
      She nodded.
     Nick took another deep breath, he was in no real 
condition to interfere with  LaCroix either mentally or 
physically, but he knew that he'd have to go after him, to try 
and keep him from killing anyone who accidentally got in his 
way.  The thought of going after  his revenged crazed master 
made him sick to his stomach.
     "He's gone 'hunting',"  he finally replied through clenched 
teeth.
     "Hunting?  You mean..."
     "Yes, he took the hand to get the blood scent and as 
soon as he could, he left to find its' owner."  he wearily 
replied, slowly moving them towards the control room door.
     "But what about Akerian?  He wouldn't leave..."
     "She's not alone and she's resting ,"  he answered, lightly 
kissing her cheek before he opened the door to the 
darkened room.

     Before Nick could grasp the handle on the door to the 
living area, it opened and reveled the source of the vibration 
he'd felt when he  and Nat entered the club.  Urs stood in 
front of them looking more like the teen-ager one would get 
to baby-sit rather than a near two hundred year old vampire.
     "Detective Knight, Dr. Lambert, please come in.  The 
General told me to expect you,"  she quietly replied as she 
led them to the bed room.
     "Urs, did LaCroix happen to mention where he was 
going?"  Nick asked, his gut already knowing the answer.   A 
very unnerving vibration came from the direction of the bed, 
causing the hair on the back of the Detective's neck to stand 
on end and his head to snap sideways to look for the source.
     "No sir, he didn't.  He just told me that he had urgent 
business he needed to take care of tonight and asked me to 
watch Akerian while he was out,"  she explained, reaching 
out to touch his arm.  "You sense it too?"  she anxiously 
whispered, fear and worry creeping into her soft voice.
     "Yes,"  he whispered back, turning his attention to the 
small vampire standing in front of him.
     "You're probably going to think I'm nuts, but I felt the 
exact same feeling from the General earlier, when he came 
to get me, but last night, when I talked to him, he 'felt' the 
same as always,"  she said, looking at the floor as if it could 
help her  find the right words.
    "Oh my God.  Nick come look at this,"  Nat called, her 
voice beginning to crack from the fear that had suddenly 
gripped her.
     Nick quickly moved past Urs to see what had spooked 
Nat.  Moving her hand out of his line of vision, he saw two 
fading puncture marks on the right side of Akerian's neck.  
That explained Urs' feelings, LaCroix wasn't content to wait 
for Nat, he had gone ahead and fed directly from Akerian to 
speed up his change.  He let out an exasperated sigh as he 
grasped Nat's shoulder,  he'd have to go find him, but *what* 
exactly would he find?
     "Nick I'm so..."  Nat quietly sobbed.
     "Shhhh."  He whispered,  turning her to face him,  "It's not 
your fault, he would have done this with or with out you,"  he 
murmured drawing her into a tight embrace and touching his 
lips to her forehead.  "Stay here with Urs... while I go find 
LaCroix?"  he asked,  reluctantly moving out of their 
embrace.
     "Please be careful,"  Nat quietly pleaded, grasping his 
hands tightly.
     "Don't worry.  I won't take any unnecessary chances, 
especially after the plans we made this morning,"  he 
reassured her.  Gently tracing the vein under the creamy 
flesh of her neck, he leaned foreword and softly kissed her 
on the lips, the sound of  her pulse sweeter than any music 
than he had ever herd . /Soon,/  he thought, remembering 
the morning's events.  In a flash, he disappeared out the 
door, leaving  a waft  of  cologne in his wake.
     /I hate it when he does that,/  she thought, marveling at 
his speed.

************************
From the shadows near by, a set of yellow eyes watched.... 

************************

    She carefully leaned over her friend, gently opening her 
glassy eyes, searching desperately for some sign of life, to 
engrossed in her ministrations to notice the door creep open 
behind her, to paralyzed by the sudden pressure on the back 
of her neck to scream, even when she landed against the 
corner of the oak cabinet, the force of her impact sending the 
carved doors flying open, select vintages of  life tumbling all 
around a lifeless form.


     The young vampire stood at the sink watching the water 
run across her hand and wrist, finally disappearing in the 
midnight blue bath cloth she held, to lost in the sound and 
feel of the cool liquid to notice or sense anything strange.   
Turning off the tap, she started back to the bedroom to wipe 
the black sweat from her friend's face. 
     She managed to reach the entrance of the walk-in closet 
before something griped her throat and flung her to the back 
of the closet,  like a child throwing away an unwanted doll, 
only this unwanted doll screamed as  flesh and glass bled 
together, forming a halo around her shattered face, the 
damp cloth still clutched in her whitening hand.

*******************

     Yellow eyes glared down at the pale form resting on the 
bed of crimson silk, a mixture of disgust and pity twisting the 
flesh around their sockets.  She was an unfortunate mistake, 
a mistake that should have died two nights ago in the alley 
where she fell, but thanks to her blood ties, she had 
somehow managed to survive.  If she were allowed to wake, 
she would surely identify his brother and bring the wrath of 
the whole community down on his entire blood line, that he 
simply could not allow.  

 ***********************   

    She laid on the bed of soft crimson covered in a film of  
ink tinted blood, her mind and body preoccupied with the 
task of healing themselves, too occupied to notice the brown 
blur that came crashing down next to the mark of the animal 
that turned both entities asunder.  For the second time in as 
many days, her world was turned pitch black by a rush of 
white pain.
     

     The wind swirled around the solitary figure standing on 
the roof  of the abandoned warehouse, causing the trench-
coat to billow like great black shadow wings behind him.  
The ancient vampire stood listening, smelling  for the heart 
and blood of his enemy.   Closing his eyes in concentration, 
he felt his Mate's blood surge through his body, fueling his 
senses with intoxicating power. A evil smile crept across his 
ageless face as he searched for the one he would draw and 
quarter before sunrise. 
       The scent of  danger filled his nostrils, causing the beast 
to break free of it's immortal host.  His body retched from the 
sudden surge of  adrenaline, his mutated eyes  shot open,  
searching for the  source of  the unholy pain that ripped 
through his chest as he fell toward the cold, un-giving ground 
below.


PART 5


    Through a blood haze, he managed to reach his master, 
or rather, what was left of him after a 70 foot dead fall onto a 
steel heating grate.  Even after all that, the ancient one was 
trying to lift himself up from the pavement, rage and fear 
numbing the pain of shattered bones.  The son bit his wrist 
and held it over his father's mouth, a little voice in the back of 
his mind telling him he would probably regret it later, but  the 
need for his master's strength to help him get this *thing* 
before it destroyed the only lights to dare enter  their worlds 
of darkness outweighed any old grudges.

*******************

     The cold blood rushed back into his body, adding fuel to 
the rage inside him, mending muscle and bone as it filled his 
veins.  Prying himself up from his steel landing place and 
shrugging off  his son's concern, he shot up into the cool 
night sky, his broken body merely dead weight  being 
pushed along by the fury that burned in his dead heart.

*******************

    Father and  son staggered through the house of horrors 
that was once the Raven's private chambers.  Smelling 
Natalie's blood,  Nick rushed into the bedroom.  Tripping 
over a wine bottle, he  fell across the legs of his beloved 
Natalie, slumped against LaCroix's antique armoire, the back 
of her head a mat of chestnut hair and drying blood.  Blindly 
lifting himself to his knees, he gathered her into his arms, 
desperately listening for her heartbeat.  His preternatural 
hearing picked up a small moan mixed with the strong, 
steady beat of her mortal heart.  
     "Oh God!  Natalie...please....please don't leave me,"  he 
begged, cradling her in his arms, as his world threatened to 
crumble around him.

****************
    
    Lucien roared at the heavens as he stood before the 
waxen body of his mate, impaled to their bed like a moth in a 
child's bug collection.  With one hand, he quickly jerked the 
wooden pin from his beloved's body, and sent the offending 
thing flying across the room.  He took Akerian's limp, ashen 
body in his arms and bit his wrist, pressing it to her lips, 
praying he wasn't too late. 
     "Please...Please, my beloved, drink,"  he sobbed, gently 
rocking her back and fourth in his arms.  He felt a tentative 
pull on the open wound, the scent of blood rousing his mate 
from the edge of the abyss.  Little by little the suction on his 
veins became more insistent, as a flush of color spread 
across her cheeks.  Becoming woozy from the blood loss, he 
weakly tugged his arm away from her  mouth, turning his 
hand to touch her temple searching her mind for any sign of 
thought.  At his gentle probe,  she opened her white eyes to 
gaze up at him.  Lucien gratefully noticed that the edges of 
her irises were now blue, she was healing.  Holding her 
away from him enough to open what was left of her shirt, he 
breathed a deep sigh of relief at the sight of the healing 
stake hole in her chest.  He pulled her close once again, 
resting his cheek against her forehead, sensing the stirrings 
in her mind.  /Come back to me...please, come back to me,/  
he silently pleaded.  Feeling the points of her fangs grazing 
the cool flesh of his neck, he blindly reached down  and 
picked up one of the many bottles scattered across the floor, 
jerked out the cork with his teeth and held the neck close to 
her mouth.  As she drank, he watched her transform, her 
eyes slowly changing back to the azure hue that he adored 
and another flush of pink creeping over her cheeks.  
Dropping the empty bottle back on the floor,  he cupped her 
cheek and brushed his lips against hers, smelling and tasting 
the blood she had just taken.   Feeling her stir against him, 
he probed her mind. 
      /Alive?/  her mental voice a soft whisper. 
      /Yes, my beloved, you are very much alive,/  he 
answered, barely able to hold back his blood tears.  As he 
answered, Akerian's eyes shot wide open as if  someone 
had hit her.
         /Nat...here?/ she asked, the white slowly creeping into 
her eyes.
      /Yes, she's been injured,/ her mate replied.  
      /See....her,/  she thought, fighting to make the words 
form in her addled brain.
     /Nicolas is taking care of her, my beloved,/  he thought, 
desperately wanting her to  remain still.
     /Can...help...her...please,/  she begged.
     Acquiescing to his mate's wishes, Lucien  gathered 
Akerian up in his arms and brought her over to where Nat 
sat, cradled in Nicolas' arms.  
     Guided by nothing more than the instinct that this was the 
right thing to do, Akerian grazed the palm of her hand with a 
fang and slipped it over Natalie's lips before Nick could 
protest. Listening carefully to her best friend's heartbeat and 
pulling her hand away as soon as Nat's pulse increased, she 
was sure that all would be well.
     Nick glared at the elder vampires, his blood streaked face 
contorted with horror and rage.
     "No,"  Akerian flatly replied to his silent rage.
     "But she's tasted vampire blood!"  he spat.
     "Lis...listen,"  she pleaded, the effects of the holy water 
still preventing her from gaining mastery over her own voice.
     Nick squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on his 
love's heart rhythm.  It was still human!  How could this be? 
And it was stronger, as if she hadn't been hurt at all.  He 
carefully tilted her head to get a view of the gash at the back 
of her head only to find a patch of matted blood and hair in 
its place: the wound had completely vanished.  
     "But how can this be?"  he whispered, the words nearly 
failing him as he deftly fingered the spot where a hideous 
gash had been only a few moments before.  
     Akerian weakly smiled and only murmured one word, the 
word that had become both a blessing and a curse to her. 
"water."  
    Gripping the collar of her mate's coat, she closed her eyes 
and clenched her teeth against the relentless hunger that 
surged through her pain-wracked body.  Without a thought, 
Lucien picked up a full bottle that had fallen by the doctor, 
uncorked it, and held it to his beloved's mouth, who, in turn, 
promptly drained it and drifted into a peaceful slumber.

********************

     Natalie was driven out of the darkness by a searing pain 
in the back of her head, or at least it seemed like it *was* a 
searing pain, because as soon as she opened her eyes, it 
was  no more than a tingling sensation.  With a small effort, 
she brought her eyes into focus, the blurs taking form, Nick's 
form, gently rocking her back and forth.
     "Wha..." she whispered, not quite able to shake the 
stupor that had fallen on her.  
     "Shhhh....it's all right...you're safe,"  he murmured in her 
ear, red-tinged tears of relief threatening to spill out from the 
corners of his eyes.  "You got in the way of  a semi, that's 
all,"  he smiled, softly kissing her temple and keeping an ear 
on her heartbeat- her *mortal* heartbeat.
     "But I don't feel that bad,"  she whispered, her faculties 
returning to her.
     "How *do* you feel?" Nick anxiously asked, all the while 
studying  his beautiful Natalie for any signs of the vampire.
     Natalie furrowed her brow, taking a silent assessment of 
her physical condition.  "Well, other than this tingling 
sensation in the back of my head, I  feel like I've got a slight 
case of vertigo."
     Nick let go a deep sigh and nodded. Gathering Nat up off 
of the floor, he moved her to the overstuffed leather chair 
nearby, hoping to make her more comfortable.
     "Where's Urs?"  Nat asked, as Nick pulled up the ottoman 
and carefully set her feet atop it.
     "She stayed with you?"  he asked, gathering up a cotton 
throw left beside the chair and wrapping it around Natalie, 
trying to hide his worry.   
     Natalie nodded, "She was ...,"  she began, rubbing her 
forehead,  trying to jumpstart her memory, then finished, 
"was...going to get a wet bath cloth, then everything went 
black," as she finished, lines of concentration slowly etched 
themselves inon her forehead even as her fingertips tried to 
chase them away.
     "Are you...?" he began, his eyes wide a mixture of 
concern and fear.
     "Go find her,"  Nat reassured him.


     Lucien carefully laid his mate back on the blood-stained 
sheets, silently wishing he could instantly wash the mess 
away, but, unfortunately, the mess would have to stay until 
he and Nicolas could collect themselves and plan what to do 
next.  Akerian and Natalie would both have to be moved 
somewhere else, that much was a given.  The thought that 
this animal had dared to defile their private chambers, even 
the very bed they slept in, made his gut wrench and the 
blood lust rise.  Absently, he reached to the foot of the bed 
and found the crumpled heap that was the black silk down 
comforter and drew it up over his mate, for modesty more 
than anything else.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his 
son dash for the closet. It was then that he remembered Urs.  
He gazed back at his peacefully resting mate and smiled. 
She was going to be all right.       


    Nick found Urs slumped against what used to be the 
mirrored wall of Janette's walk-in closet.  The blood 
spattered on the glass was slowly gravitating towards its 
owner by the time he arrived.  As he knelt down to get a 
closer look, Lucien came in behind him carrying two bottles 
of his private stock.  Nick gratefully accepted one and turned 
his attention back to the young vampire at his knees, waving 
the open bottle under her nose to draw the beast out.  Urs' 
eyes shot open,  red with the hunger.  She jerked the bottle 
to her lips, sucking the precious life out of the olive colored 
glass, her rent flesh  mending itself with each  crimson drop.  
     "Urs, did you see who did this?"  Nick asked, taking the 
bottle from her when she'd drained its contents.
    "Detective... I'm...so...sorry,"  she sobbed, covering her 
face with her hands.
     "Urs...Urs look at me,"  he ordered, clutching her wrists to 
pull her hands away from her blood-smeared face.  "Did you 
see *anything*?"  he pleaded, hoping against hope she could 
tell them something that would help them.
     "No," she began, swallowing hard, trying to get the cotton 
out of her mouth and steady her nerves. " I was going to... 
get a cloth...I walked to the end of the closet  and something 
grabbed me by the throat, then everything went...black," she 
said, the last word getting broken off by a second round of 
sobs.
     "Can you walk?"  Nick asked,  positioning himself to help 
her up from the floor.
     Urs could only nod yes, clutching his hand to steady 
herself as she attempted to get her legs to work together. 
    
   
     Lucien turned and walked out of the closet, leaving his 
son to help the Urs.  She would heal fast.  He had given her 
one of his best vintages, and she had taken care to keep 
herself  properly fed, unlike his son who still refused to take 
human blood except when he was at death's door.  As he 
walked towards the bed where his mate lay, his toe kicked 
something against the night stand.  Reaching down, he 
discovered the stake he'd relieved his mate of moments 
before.  Preparing to give the vile thing a swift toss out the 
window, he noticed something that gave him pause.  The 
thing was made of Ash, but his hands didn't burn when he 
touched it.  This realization made a very evil smile cross his 
ageless face.  /Well, well, this is interesting.  The old adage 
is true: 'That which does not kill makes one stronger,'/   he 
thought, as he sat down next to his sleeping mate and 
opened the bottle he still clutched in his hand.  The sweet 
aroma caused the change to flow over him, his mutated eyes 
catching the moonlight that streamed in from the window, 
causing them to take on an eerie glow.  He forced himself to 
drink the dulcet elixir slowly, concentrating on the feel of 
each swallow as it flowed over his tongue and down his 
throat.  The blood renewed his ancient body, giving him 
power, finishing the job that Nicolas' blood had only begun.  
As he reached behind him to  place the empty bottle and the  
weapon on the night stand, he felt his mate reach out to 
lightly caress his forearm.  He turned to face her and smiled.  
She was studying him, a drowsy smile on her full lips.   He 
clasped her hand and drew it to his lips, softly kissing the 
knuckles, while he turned to gather her up in his arms, 
silently praying that this never-ending night terror would soon 
be over.


     "Are you sure this will work?"  Nat tossed over her 
shoulder, painting the last of the ancient sign on the living 
room door.
      A wicked smile of confidence spread across her best 
friend's face as she reentered the control room.  
     "It will," she answered simply as she stepped behind her 
friend to supervise the last of the symbols that she was 
putting into place.
      Nat looked up at her friend, still not quite able to believe 
that this was  the same person who, just a few short hours 
ago, was pinned to her own bed with a hefty piece of wood; 
still not able to believe that she had taken blood from 
Akerian and had healed, but not become a vampire.  Did the 
creature that her friend had become contain the answer to 
Nick's quest for mortality?  Was this new blood that now 
flowed in her veins the reason for the sensations she now 
felt?       
     "But why write this stuff in your blood?  I know that it'll 
burn vampires, but wouldn't regular holy water do the same 
thing?"  she asked, motioning to the cryptic markings she'd 
just finished.
     "It would, but for that spell to work, it must be drawn in the 
caster's blood,"  she replied, knowing that her friend the 
skeptic had never fully accepted her 'mystical leanings', as 
she had called them,  since they'd met.  In spite of herself, 
she chuckled, /Oh how times do change!/
     "What?  Did I mark something wrong?" Nat asked,  
looking back at the door, mentally checking each line she 
had just applied to the oaken surface.
      "No, no, you did fine.  I was just thinking of all the times 
you kept me awake drilling me on the validity of magic, and 
now here you are *helping* me cast a spell,"  she answered, 
gesturing toward the finished hex.  
     "Akerian?"  Nat whispered, lowering her head as if  the 
words she needed were in her hands.
     "What is it?"  Akerian replied, kneeling beside her friend 
and drawing her close.                              "I'm *feeling* 
things.  I could feel you even though you were out of the 
room, and I knew when you were going to come back in 
before you even opened the door.  I can feel Nick and 
LaCroix  even though they're at the other side of the building. 
I can feel your body healing and changing into whatever 
you're becoming. And Nick, oh God!, I can feel his..."
     "Desires?"  Akerian quietly finished.  
     Nat nodded the tears streaming down her cheeks, as 
Akerian pulled her closer.
         "What have you turned me into?"  she sobbed.
     The words hit her like a punch in the stomach. Taking a 
deep breath to recover from the hurt and  to gather her 
thoughts, Akerian tried to think of how to explain, to justify, 
what she'd done and what was happening to her friend.
     "You remember telling me about that Irish inspector you 
met awhile back?"  she began.
     "You mean O'Neal?  I'm like him?"  Nat asked, looking at 
her friend with total astonishment.
     "Some of the legends would call you a Vampele.  And to 
answer 'why?'  it was either bring you across, let you die or 
do what I did," she finished, standing up and quickly moving 
toward the door that led to the empty dance floor and the 
cellar beyond, needing desperately to get out before she 
said something she'd later regret.
     /I should have known this would happen.  She and Nick 
both set humanity on a pedestal, as if it were the most 
precious thing on this earth,/  she bitterly thought, nearly 
jerking the door handle from its two-inch steel home.
     /Your only thought was to save your friend, and you 
risked your own recovery to do it.  If you had left it up to 
Nicolas, he probably would have let her die and then killed 
himself rather than bring her across.  At least now she can 
still walk in *daylight*,/ Lucien silently answered his mate, 
insulted that the 'good doctor' would dare say such after all 
they had all been through.

     Shutting the thick wooden door with a loud thud, Akerian 
walked to the wine rack and mindlessly jerked out a bottle, 
not bothering to check its type or age.  She uncorked the 
bottle and let the smell of life surround her, seep into her 
nostrils and parted mouth.  The scent washed all thoughts 
from her mind leaving only the desire, the need, for more.  
As she pulled the liquid from the smooth olive glass, the 
need took form.  The form, in turn, moved behind her, 
wrapping itself  around her, soothing and enticing her 
senses. 
     /Still hungry?/  her mate asked, placing a feather kiss on 
her nape.
     /Why haven't I been sated?  I've had more than enough 
to heal me *and* make me sick for days,/  she wearily asked, 
draining the last of the container clutched in her pale hand.  
     /We're still changing.  That's the only explanation,/  
Lucien replied, reaching beside them for a bottle of his own.
     She sighed and slipped from his embrace, quietly sitting 
down on the empty crate at her feet as her mate finished off 
the bottle he had just opened.  Placing her face in her hands, 
Akerian began to sob.  The full weight of the ubiquitous 
hunger and the pain from Nat's words had settled 
themselves firmly on her shoulders.  
     Lucien knelt in front of  his beloved, taking her hands 
away from her face with his left hand and running his right 
softly under her chin, tilting her head to meet his gaze.   She 
looked down at him with blood tears streaming down her 
cheeks, her thoughts a chaotic mixture of exhaustion, pain, 
and need.  Without a word or thought, he held out his arms 
to her.  Akerian bowed her head and slid off the crate into 
her mate's arms, wrapping her own tightly around his neck, 
burying her head into his shoulder. 
      Knowing that she was beyond words or thoughts, the 
ancient vampire cupped the back of his mate's head with his 
hand and gently urged her toward the vein that pulsed with 
their blood.  A shiver coursed throughout his body as her 
fangs broke the cool, taut flesh.  He closed his eyes and let 
out a soft sigh,  reveling in the feel of  her gelid lips against 
his skin, her teeth piercing the hidden vein.  He felt his own 
teeth slide out from his gums and found himself gently tilting 
his mate's head to expose the same spot on her neck.  A 
sudden rush of cold terror washed over him just as he 
lowered his head to join his mate in blood bonding, causing  
him to lock his arms around Akerian with a force that would 
have crushed human bone.
 
    Feeling the same terror, Akerian dug her fingers deep into 
Lucien's shoulders and raised her head to listen.  Yes, there 
it was - the one who attacked them earlier - but this wasn't 
the same one who had found her in the alley.  At that 
realization, a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.  There 
were *two* of these things walking the streets.  Fighting to 
hold on to her senses, she managed to send her mind back 
to their private chambers, to their family.  Yes, Nat, Urs, and 
Nick had yet to feel its presence and were still safely behind 
the hexed door.  Inhaling deeply to gather her energy, she 
looked at her mate and softly kissed him on the temple. /Are 
you...?/  he asked, his white eyes staring holes in the cellar 
door.  /Yes,/  she answered, moving out of her mate's lap, 
her anger and hunger steeling her against the fear of what 
lay on the other side of the oak door.  Lucien rose to stand 
beside his beloved, his rage matching her own.  Opening the 
door, Lucien reached for Akerian's hand and squeezed it 
tightly as they walked out to face the creator of this twisted 
version of hell.


PART 6


     He crossed the damp, deserted street muttering things in 
a long forgotten dialect as he walked toward the club for the 
second time tonight.  Night, he thought, glancing up toward 
the sky.  It would be dawn soon, meaning he'd have to finish 
this business quickly.  It was supposed to have been a 
simple clean up.  Go in, kill the mutated one, /Use an Ash 
stake and then decapitate her, Simon,/ who was already half 
dead thanks to his brother's little indiscretion.  Simple and 
clean;  not!  What he and the others hadn't counted on was a 
mortal and a fledgling interrupting him in the middle of his 
house cleaning, the holy water making the mutated one 
*stronger* and the Ancient One blood bonding with her 
*after* she changed.  The enforcer who thought he'd seen 
just about everything looked up at the waxing moon and 
shook his head  / Two of them, Zeus!  What did I do to 
deserve this?/.  Reaching into his raincoat, he drew his 
prized scimitar from its hidden sheath and then kicked the 
door of the club open, hoping this would be the last time he'd 
ever see this damned place.
     
    The sight that greeted Simon made his ashen flesh crawl.  
The ancient one and his mate were sitting calmly (too 
calmly) at a table in the middle of the dance floor, waiting for 
him, watching him with eyes that reminded him of Artemis 
herself, whom he'd just had a very one sided conversation 
with.  /Those eyes...so luminous... she was saying 
something... yes...forgot something...what did I leave?/

     Before he realized what was happening, the enforcer 
found himself pinned to the door of the club with the same 
stake he'd unsuccessfully tried to use on Akerian a few 
hours before.  The pain that radiated from his chest washed 
the effects of the whammy away, leaving only the searing, 
slow, final death and the shame of  the knowledge that the 
abomination he was sent to kill would be the one that sent 
him to Hades.  "Sent to clean up after your brother, hmmm?"  
asked the mutated one, her unholy eyes boring through his 
brain as her fingers dug into his throat, threatening to 
separate him from his esophagus, the hard way.  "Then you 
should've done a better job of picking up after yourself,"  she 
hissed, twisting the stake further into the oozing hole in his 
chest, barely able to rein in the blinding rage that was fast 
overtaking every cell of her being.  

     Lucien moved behind his mate, gripping her shoulders so 
tightly that his pale knuckles grew even whiter.  With each 
breath they took, he could feel the small bit of control that 
they had mustered together, slip away, pushing them 
towards the blood rage.  The temptation to give in to their 
exigency for revenge very nearly brought him to his knees, 
but they couldn't give in, not yet. They had to relieve this 
wretch of the answers they craved *before* he was made to 
pay for his transgressions.  Setting his teeth, the ancient one 
drew in a deep breath, reaching into his equal's mind as he 
exhaled.  He had to get through to her, before they tumbled 
over the edge.  

     She dimly felt her mate reaching through their 
connection, desperately fighting to keep them from going 
into a blind blood rage.  Closing her eyes, she forced her 
mind to give over to him, drawing strength from him, strength 
she desperately needed now.        
     /So...hard,/ she silently wept, the war between her lust for 
revenge and her logic threatening to rend her mind in half.
     /I know, but you must control it.  Killing him now will do us 
no good,/  her mate answered, reaching even further into her 
mind as he firmly gripped her hands.  /Please!/  he implored 
her,  leaning forward to rest his forehead against her pate.

     In two fluid motions she had torn the stake from Simon's 
chest and deposited him flat of his back on a table nearby, 
her hand never leaving his throat.  She leaned in close to his 
ear, to insure he understood every syllable she was about to 
utter, the aroma of burning flesh and fear turning her 
stomach and igniting the hunger for the hunt, as she came 
within millimeters of the vein in his throat.  Burning flesh?  
She looked back past her hand and saw a sight that made 
the corners of her mouth turn up, exposing her four 
protracted canines.  The flesh of the enforcer's throat around 
her hand was burning as if it had been doused with acid, or 
holy water.  
     "See what your *brother* did to me, to my Mate?"  she 
hissed, looking squarely into his jaundice colored eyes.  "I 
broke no code, and yet I and my family and friends are being 
hunted down like animals, even to our very sanctuary, by 
you and your brother.  Why?"  she demanded, slamming his 
head against the table to insure his undivided attention.
     Simon tried to make his mouth move but the muscles in 
his face wouldn't obey him. Why couldn't he breathe? 
/Can't...please!...can't breathe,/  he thought. 
      Easily reading the enforcer's thoughts, Lucien clutched 
Akerian's wrist, silently bidding her to let go.  Using his 
remaining strength, he managed to pry her hand from the 
seared, mushy flesh that used to be a throat.  /I would 
strongly suggest you answer the question before one of us 
decides that we haven't fed properly this evening,/  he 
thought, wrapping his arms tightly around his mate.  
     /Abominations...both of you!/  Simon spat, reeling from 
the pain of  his seared flesh and crushed bone mending 
itself. 
     Akerian's moon tinted eyes flew wide as the pain and 
rage of the last three days and nights erupted from every 
pore of her being.   She slammed her eyelids shut and 
stood, shaking in her mate's arms.  Images of  the enforcer's 
blood smeared over her face and body, of her hands tearing 
his cold, dead heart from his chest, ran through her mind 
over and over again, growing more intense with each 
passing second.   She opened her eyes and saw her hand 
reaching for the enforcer's temple.  He tried to scream as her 
fingers burned into his skin and hair, but he was mute.  
/Eyes...those eyes...like Artemis...she knows what we've 
done,/  he thought as his world fell black and silent.


     She opened her eyes and found herself staring at stars. 
Or at least, she thought they were stars, but they didn't really 
look like stars.  Blinking several times to clear the blood film, 
she slowly came to realization that she was looking at the 
mural on the Raven's ceiling.  /Strange, I never really noticed 
this before.  Then again, I never felt the pressing urge to 
stare at the ceiling. That reminds me, why *am* I staring at 
the ceiling? And why do I feel like I've been on a three day 
bender?/  she wondered, grasping her forehead with both 
hands, in an effort to keep her brain from extricating itself 
with the chainsaw she was certain it had.   Strong hands 
covered hers, moving them away from her head, reassuring 
her with their touch.  
     /The pain we, especially you, feel is the result of 
the...'whammy' you gave our friend, my darling,/  a soft, silky 
voice answered.  Tilting her head back ever so slowly, she 
looked into those mesmerizing eyes, the eyes she'd gotten 
lost in an eternity ago, and smiled, temporarily forgetting the 
chainsaw her errant brain wielded.  /You are so achingly 
beautiful.  Do you know that?/  she thought as she fell further 
and further into the depths of  a sea of ice blue.
     The ancient one smiled, gently lifting his mate up to rest 
against his chest.  /You need to rest,/  he thought, kissing 
her brow.
     /What happened?/  she asked.
     /You mean you don't remember?/  he returned, trying to 
mask the fear that started growing in his very soul when she 
unleashed her rage on the enforcer.
     /I see things, but everything is a jumble.  I can't tell what I 
saw and did from what you saw or what I think are the 
images I got from the enforcer,/  she answered, noting that 
her mate had drawn a mental curtain over a part of his 
emotions.  
  
     Lucien inhaled sharply, trying to think of a way to explain 
what he saw and what he *thought* his mate had done to the 
enforcer.  The words failed him.  How could he tell his mate 
that she'd turned a millennia old enforcer into a vegetable 
just by throwing her emotions, her rage, into his brain?  How 
could he tell her that the entire event had sent a cold chill 
coursing through him that he couldn't shake?

     Akerian looked into and past her Mate's eyes, seeing into 
his soul.  The fog that had settled over her memory cleared 
as she began to see the images he had witnessed.  She had 
thrown the enforcer into a coma by projecting her rage into 
his mind.  That explained the veil  her Beloved now wore.  
What she had done had scared him. The very thing that had 
drawn them closer than blood bonding ever could, now 
threatened to tear them apart.   Fighting back tears, she 
quickly pulled away from him and flew out the door of the 
club, ignoring the urge to seek shelter, shelter from the sun.

     Lucien flew after his mate, ignoring the instincts that told 
him the sun had risen an hour ago.  He grabbed her arm just 
as she slung the door wide open, the morning sun bathing 
them both in warm, white light.  The two ancient ones 
stopped in mid motion and stared at each other, both 
expecting to see the other's skin flush red and begin to 
smoulder.  It didn't.  They looked at each other with a mixture 
of awe and confusion, welded to the spots they stood in, 
neither one quite able to believe what was happening.


     Nick opened the cellar door and was greeted by a sight 
that made him drop the two bottles he held.  The blood 
splashed against his legs, sending up an odor that would stir 
a vampire out of the deepest of slumbers, but he didn't 
notice.  LaCroix and Akerian were standing at the door of the 
club, the *open* door of the club.  The sunlight streamed in 
all around them, but they didn't move  and they weren't 
burning.  They were standing in *sunlight*.  
     Natalie walked through the control room to go raid the 
cooler behind the bar for a soda, fully prepared to hunt for 
the nearest light switch.  She didn't have too.  The club was 
filled with daylight.  The realization scared her.  Someone 
had broken into the club when the occupants were most 
vulnerable.  She ran onto the dance floor frantically 
searching for Nick as she headed for the door to close it 
before anyone in the basement woke.  Nat made it half way 
across the floor when she saw the two figures standing stock 
still in the middle of the open door way.  It took a minute for 
her eyes to adjust and make out the forms and even longer 
for it to sink into her weary brain that it was LaCroix and 
Akerian standing there.  Thinking the worst, she moved 
toward them, hoping she could talk them out of what she 
thought they were attempting to do.  A voice behind her 
stopped her in her tracks.
     "Nat...don't,"  Nick said, the sound of his voice just over a 
whisper. 
     "But they're..."  she began, the tears forming in the 
corners of her eyes.
     "No, they're not,"  Nick's soft voice reassuring her.
     "What have they turned into?"  Nat breathed, still not 
quite able to take in the scene in front of her.
    

     Lucien gazed at  his mate, her beautiful, ageless face 
bathed in the morning light, and began to cry.  It had been 
one thousand nine hundred and seventeen years since he 
had felt the warmth of the sun on his flesh.  She had given 
him this, his Akerian, his Equal.  How could ever fear her?  
To fear her was to fear himself.  The ancient vampire's legs 
gave way under him, the weight of the emotions that poured 
out of a heart he once thought long dead too much to bear.  
He fell against his mate, covering them both with crimson 
tears as his weight pulled them both to their knees in the 
midst of the morning light.  The sounds of the waking city 
echoing throughout the club as they clung to each  other in 
the open doorway, unable to move.  Neither could believe 
that this was real. A vampire standing in full sunlight?  That 
defied all logic, but yet here they both were, in the middle of 
the light as if they were both mortal again.  
     "What have I turned us into?"  Akerian whispered to her 
mate. 

***************************

     Natalie stared at the blood pressure gage, for the fourth 
time, in total disbelief .  Even after six years of dealing with 
Nick's barely double digit pressure she would have never 
imagined this.  Akerian  had *no*  pressure at all;  no blood 
pressure and no pulse.  Pulling the listening pieces out of 
her ears, Nat let out an exasperated sigh as she ripped the 
cuff off her friend's cool arm.
  
    LaCroix raised a questioning brow at the doctor and his 
mate.
     /I'm dead,/  Akerian thought as she grinned at her mate.
     Lucien's pursed his lips, rolling his eyes to stare at the 
black ceiling tiles.  /I would beg to differ with that particular 
diagnosis,/  He silently answered as he poured three glasses 
of private stock and uncorked a bottle of brandy.
     /No, I'm serious.  Listen. I have no heartbeat and I can't 
even feel the blood in my veins like I use to,/  she explained, 
/And I can't hear you, either,/  she quietly finished, the black 
humor in her thoughts giving way to the unsettling feelings 
that were growing in her gut.

     Lucien quietly sat the bottle down and closed his eyes.  
She was right.  He couldn't even feel his own blood.  He 
could hear his son's and the doctor's heartbeats, but not his 
or his mate's.  Blinking the red film away, he glanced over at 
his mate, the apprehension showing for only a split second 
in his blue orbs.  Looking back at the glasses in front of him, 
he poured the doctor a brandy,  picked up the glasses and 
heade