Date: Fri, 28 Jan 2000 09:11:31 -0500 From: E & J Deal Subject: LaCroix's Lament, part 1 of 4 To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU I cannot take credit for the main characters. This is the third story in my incredible silly series. Ittakes place immediately following "Honeymoon Horror." If you haven't read the first two stories, but would like to, I'll be happy to send them to you. There is some innuendo and rude language, but no more than you'd catch on television. Permission is granted to archive - if anyone is of a mind to do so. Please send all comments to Elise at HYPERLINK mailto:ejdeal@sga.quik.com LaCroix's Lament, Part 1of 4 By Elise With the able help of the Reverend Mr. Luke Cross, Nick and Natalie were able to locate a hotel room in Atlanta. It was not the bridal suite as they had hoped, but it was a nice, standard room complete with two double beds. Being a Southern gentleman, Reverend Cross insisted on helping Natalie pick up the luggage while Nick half-dragged a still woozy LaCroix towards the waiting station for the hotel's shuttle bus. The General, having regained consciousness, remembered and was utterly appalled at what had happened to him. He had been whining pitifully for the past half hour. "Nicholash, my shon," LaCroix slurred. "You musht help me!" The two little old ladies from the flight, Louise and Sylvia, had followed Nick as he dragged LaCroix across Hartsfield. Louise had finally managed to convince Sylvia to file a report on "that young, blond pervert" who had accosted her while she was in the restroom on the plane. They followed Nick and LaCroix psuedo-spy fashion (at what they perceived to be a discrete distance), the two women decided that both gentlemen should be arrested. When Nick finally deposited LaCroix on a bench to await their shuttle bus, the prune sisters stared in open disgust. "Isn't there a law in Atlanta prohibiting public drunkenness?" Sylvia decried aloud. She certainly meant for both Nick and LaCroix to hear her. "It's a disgusting display!" Louise agreed. LaCroix reeled about and fixed his crystalline blue eyes on Louise. "Your fash, Madam, ish a disgushting dishplay!" LaCroix told her with a sneer. He felt instantly better after saying this. The look of incredulity on the woman's face gave him a genuine smile, the first he'd had in decades. "How dare you!" Louise exclaimed. Her cry coincided with Nick's chastisement. "LaCroix! That was uncalled for," Nick stated sternly. Secretly, he did think it a rather pithy comment considering the problems he'd had with the two old women, but he certainly didn't need anymore trouble at this point. "A person should not be judged by his or her appearance. One can't help the way he or she looks," Nick lectured his father. "Well, she could shtay home," LaCroix suggested rather loudly. His comment brought a burst of amused chuckles from other bystanders. It also caused the two old pea-hens to storm off in a huff seeking airport security. "Nick, we have problem," Natalie called out as soon as she reached them. "Our luggage is not here." Nick could not believe it. He shook his head angrily. "Well, we can't help that now. We'll put a trace on it tomorrow. It's nearing sunrise," he told her. With a raised hand he pointed out the shuttle bus. "There's the shuttle. They arrive every thirty minutes so if we miss this one, we'll have a half hour wait for the next bus, and." "And that will be after sunrise," Nat finished his sentence for him. * * * * LaCroix, angry as a hornet from hell, was moving under his own power by the time they reached the hotel. Sullenly, he signed the register, walked to the elevator, marched into the hotel room. The former vampire master wilted onto the bed and, lower lip extended in an adolescent pout, sat and refused to speak to anyone. "Here," Nick handed the porter a twenty. The porter grinned and uttered promises of immediate future service should he be called. When the youth had gone, Nick surveyed the room in frustration. It was his honeymoon with Natalie, and they were forced to share a room with a now mortal LaCroix. Nick made an undetermined male noise, took up his carry-on bag, and rumbled into the bathroom. Natalie sighed as she closed the draperies and took stock of what belongings she had in her carry-on bag. Her honeymoon, hers and Nick's, and they were stuck in this hotel room with LaCroix. She shot him an angry glare, but it quickly turned into a giggle. Lucien LaCroix looked like a pubescent boy pouting over a sporting event that hadn't gone his way. How could the fates have been so unkind to me? What have I ever done to deserve such a cruel fate at this? Lucien complained to himself, but deep in his heart, he knew exactly what he had done to deserve this. Worse, he knew that it was his own fault. "What did you say, LaCroix?" Natalie asked. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his only link back to vampirism. "Nothing," he told her and sulked a while longer. "Natalie," he spoke up presently. "Are you certain there is no cure for this poison you inflicted on me?" He spoke a sweetly as he could, but not having had to sweet talk anyone (much less a woman) in over two thousand years, he was badly out of practice. It came out as more of an arrogant decree. Hands instantly on her hips, Natalie fired back. "Don't you even start with me, LaCroix. No one invited you along on this trip, no one asked you to interfere in our lives, and it's your own damn fault that you got the injection and not Nick." LaCroix ground his teeth together until they actually hurt, but what hurt worse was having to be nice. "I apologize." The words were very stiff as they exited his mouth. He had never used these words before. Natalie began to feel pity for the poor thing. "LaCroix," she spoke softly. It was with apprehension that she sat beside him on the bed. "Listen, there is no way to reverse the anti-vampire inoculation." She gently patted him on the back. "None that I am aware of. All of my researc h was on disk, and the disks were in my luggage. I can't even reproduce the serum for Nick without the luggage." LaCroix did not answer her. He hung his head and muttered to himself. "What am I going to do?" He felt very nearly close to tears. "Well, the first thing you're going to do is get some inoculations," she told him. LaCroix's head popped up. He hadn't meant for her to hear him. Then he remembered with grief afresh that he was now a mortal like her. "I believe I have had enough of needles and syringes," he complained sourly. Natalie grinned. "Face it, LaCroix. You haven't been a mortal since the days of the Roman Legions. You are susceptible to all sorts of viruses, infections, and germs." LaCroix looked positively horrified. "You mean I could actually die from some microscopic germ? How undignified!" "Let me make a few calls," Natalie told him as she picked up the telephone. "Atlanta is the home of the Center for Disease Control. Surely, they would know what to do about you." Just as Natalie was hanging up, Nick emerged from the bath wearing a pair of khaki shorts he had had the foresight to pack into his carry-on. The white cotton T-shirt was still on the bathroom counter for Natalie. He felt better after the hot shower and fresh bottle of blood. "It's all set," Natalie told LaCroix. "What's all set?" Nick asked. Even though LaCroix was a mortal, Nick still felt suspicious around him. Besides, his former master was sitting far too close to Natalie. Jealously began to raise its ugly little head. "LaCroix has an appointment this morning at 11:00 to get inoculated against every conceivable virus know to man." She stood and glanced at her watch. "It's eight o'clock now. You have three hours before you need to be there. Don't be late. In fact, it would be a good idea to get there a little early." Natalie stood up and put her arms around Nick. She kissed him swiftly on the lips. "My turn in the bathroom," she whispered in his ear. Deftly, she grabbed her bag and headed into the bath. Nick frowned at LaCroix angrily. He moved to the second bed and pulled down the covers. Neither man dared speak to the other. LaCroix set the bedside alarm clock and rolled over on his side. Maybe he could get some rest before his appointment. Nick waited tensely on the bed. He could no longer sense LaCroix, but his vampire's senses told him that LaCroix was breathing deep and evenly and was probably asleep. In a way, Nick felt sorry for LaCroix. This was the most terrible punishment LaCroix had ever had to endure, but he certainly deserved it. Time and again, LaCroix had sought to keep Nick under his control, to destroy his soul, to hinder and ridicule his quest for humanity. The one-time master vampire had tried to destroy his relationship with Natalie. How ironic that when she had finally discovered a cure for his condition, it had been LaCroix who had been injected. Nick laughed again as that scene replayed itself in his mind. Suddenly, he sensed her - Natalie. Nick turned his head to gaze at her. Although the lights were out and the heavy draperies covered the windows shutting out most of the sunlight, Nick could see her clearly. Natalie's skin was pink and flushed with warmth. He could literally smell the fragrance of the soap and shampoo she had used, and underneath he could smell her blood scent. Nick inhaled deeply as he left the bed and moved to stand before her. "I'm sorry, Nick," she whispered. She looked down at the soft white cotton T-shirt she wore. "I had the most beautiful silk gown." She sighed. "It was in the luggage." Nick grinned at her. The T-shirt barely covered her. In fact, she had to tug on the hem of it for modesty's sake. He grinned wider as her tugging caused the thin material to pull tightly against her breasts. "I don't mind, Nat," he whispered back as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. His hands swept the back of the shirt, pulling the fabric up exposing her naked bottom. "I don't mind at all," he whispered again. His hands touched her gently. He'd wanted this for so long. Natalie smiled. This was one night she intended they finish what they started. After tonight, no more cold showers for me! She thought triumphantly. Standing on tiptoes, she leaned forward to kiss him. "You are so beautiful, Nat," he told her. His voice was husky and felt cool on her throat. Natalie shivered with delight and anticipation. "I must agree," a soft voice slithered. "And you have the loveliest gluteus maximus I have seen in a long time." LaCroix raised his head to his hand and propped it up on his elbow. Natalie shrieked in outrage and dashed to their bed, jumping beneath the covers as fast as she could. Nick's reaction was more extreme. In a vampire's flash, he snatched the now mortal LaCroix up from the bed. He caught his one time master by the neck and held him dangling above the bed. Red-eyed Nick roared. "I should break your neck, LaCroix!" Although he was beginning to fear for his fragile life, the General refused to show it. He knew Nicholas would not kill him. The boy's silly attachment to mortal morals forbade him to do so, but it was becoming difficult to breathe as Nicholas tightened his grip. "Put me down," LaCroix choked. "Nick," Natalie called out. She had pulled the covers up to her chin. "Don't kill him." "Yes," LaCroix rasped out. "Listen to your beautiful bride." "Shut up!" Nick growled. He cocked his head towards Natalie. His red eyes glowed like embers. "Why not?" he asked and shook LaCroix by the neck. "He certainly more than deserves to die." "I agree," Natalie answered. "But not on our wedding night," she told him softly. Nick shook his former master one more time for good measure before dropping the gasping man to the bed. Nick strode angrily over to the bureau and snatched up his wallet. Marching back over to LaCroix, he flung down a wad of bills. "Take these and go," Nick told him. His voice was low and angry. "Don't come back for all I care. Just be gone for the day. If I see you before sunset, I will kill you," Nick ordered. LaCroix hated to admit defeat, but like any good General, he knew the importance of a strategic withdrawal. With head held high, LaCroix walked slowly to the door. He was careful not to step too near his son. "I will return at sunset," he informed the couple. Then he gracefully left. The General had barely moved past the threshold when the door slammed shut behind him, and even with his superb vampire senses gone, he could hear Nick bolting the door behind him. LaCroix smiled smugly to himself as he moved down the corridor. He had come close to losing his new mortal life, much too close, but he was happy to know that he still held the power to bedevil Nick. * * * * * After bolting the door, Nick wheeled around and hurried to his bride. He settled himself on the bed beside her and clasped her in his arms. "Nat," he asked urgently. "Are you okay?" He hugged her tightly. She buried her face in his neck. "Yes," she murmured back, "just embarrassed by the old geezer and." Natalie's words trailed off as she began kissing him. "Make love to me, Nick," she breathed on his skin. "Bring me across just like we planned." Nick shivered with delight and pulled her away from his neck. "We need to talk." "Talk?" Natalie's voice deepened nearly three full tones. "Now? What could there possibly be for us to `talk' about?" Were all men this infuriating or did she find the only idiot? "Nat!" he exclaimed. "I don't have to bring you across. You've found a cure. It works. Now we can be together as man and wife." He stoked her face and smiled intently into her eyes. "You are my best friend," he told her solemnly. "You are my wife, and now that there's a cure, I want to make you the mother of my children." Natalie relaxed a bit. She slid her hands across his chest. "Well, you'll have to make me your lover first, Nick," she told him as seductively as she could. "No, Nat," he insisted, and with difficulty, he managed to dislodge her hands. "Don't you see? If we wait just a little longer to make love, you'll have another dose of the cure ready. I'll be mortal then." Tenderly he kissed her lips. "I want to make love to you in the sunshine," he whispered sensuously. The look she gave him was murderous. Ever so carefully she folded her hands in her lap and held them tightly. If she didn't, she may well strangle her husband. "Nick," she huffed in frustration. "It took more than two years of research and six months of experimentation to develop that serum. All of my records are on that disk. I would be starting from scratch." Her voice shook as she gave this little speech, but she kept her words clipped and at her doctor's professional best. "Two years isn't that long," he repeated. "Not when we compare it to a lifetime together." "Nick," she nearly cried his name. "I'm thirty years old. I can't wait any longer." "And I'm eight hundred and three," he replied. Nick shook his head in frustration and sighed. Why is Nat being so unreasonable? Here we are on the verge of success, and all she can think about is sex. "Okay, so at worst, we're talking about having to abstain for another two years. Two years isn't that long, Nat." "Two years? I can't wait two years!" Nat shouted. "Do you really mean that you want us to have a marriage in name only for the next two years?" Natalie continued on for a while longer, but the gist of her tirade was the same. In Nick's opinion, she was ranting. That little T-shirt couldn't even pretend to keep up with her frantic gestures. Nick simply sat on the bed and stared openly at her naked lower body, grinning the whole while. "And why are you grinning like an idiot?" she shouted. Before he could answer, she suddenly realized her state of undress. She felt the blood rush to her face, and her first thought was to bolt under covers. Then she knew exactly what she was going to do. If Nick insisted on waiting until she had perfected another dose of the serum, another three years, before making love to her, then she would see to it that he suffered as much as she did. Dr. Natalie Lambert grinned wickedly at her husband. Slowly she moved over to him and kissed him hard on the lips, making sure to cup his manhood. Then with a deep, throaty laugh, Natalie pulled the T-shirt over her head and threw it at him. Nick's jaw dropped. He couldn't help it. Natalie stood there completely naked. Her body mere inches away. His fangs grew long and hard, and his body responding similarly. Both the man and the vampire wanted her badly. No! He shouted mentally to himself. I have to wait. I can't do this to her. With fangs gritted, he rolled from the bed and marched into the bathroom, taking care to lock the door behind him. Natalie curled naked under the sheet of the second bed. When she heard the sound of water coming from the bathroom, she laughed until she giggled herself to leep. It was about time he suffered from a few cold showers. * * * * * Natalie was rudely awakened around seven o'clock P.M. by a loud and insistent banging on the door. She sat up and quickly wrapped a sheet around herself. "Nick?" Natalie asked with fear. "What is it?' Nick, looking like death warmed-over, was already half-way across the floor when a high-pitched wailing noise began to accompany the thudding. "I don't have a clue," her husband returned. He ran a hand through his porcupine-ish locks. The noise slowly decreased to a low moan of pain and a feeble tapping. "Nick? Natalie?" It was a timid voice calling out to them. "It's LaCroix," Natalie whispered in astonishment. Nick quickly unlocked the door and pulled LaCroix inside. LaCroix, his Armani suit dusty, collapsed in Nick's arms. "I'm dying," he gasped out. "My arms are sore, and I feel feverish." Suddenly a bizarre rumbling noise sounded from LaCroix's belly. "And there is a hideous pinching in my gut," he whimpered. As if on cue, LaCroix curled himself into a ball and moaned with pain. Nick carefully scooped up his father and lay him on the bed. "He had his inoculations, and he isn't likely to have caught any bugs this fast. Maybe he's having an adverse reaction to one of the serums," Natalie said. She was thinking aloud. Nick stared at Natalie with a growing sense of horror. "Maybe your serum isn't perfected, Nat. What if death comes with mortality." "Of course death comes with mortality, you fool!" screamed LaCroix. "What do you think `mortal' means." His agony didn't seem to interfere with his intolerance for stupidity. Wrapping the sheet around her toga-style, Natalie knelt beside him and began examining him. After several minutes of examining him, she sat back on her heels. "I really don't think it's serious. The soreness and the low grade fever are normal reactions to the series of inoculations he had today. LaCroix, what have you had to eat today?" "Eat?" he asked. A frown of perplexity creased his brow. He hadn't thought about food in nearly two thousand years. "Well, that's the problem then," Natalie told them. "You're mortal, now, LaCroix. That means you have to eat." She turned to face Nick. "Why don't you call room service and order us something for dinner?" Nick pulled Natalie roughly to her feet. "Why don't you get dressed? LaCroix has surely seen enough of your body," he said quietly. It was phrased as a question, but there was no doubt he intended it as an order. Natalie's temper flared for a moment until she realized that Nick was jealous. Already his eyes were taking on a soft glow. Serves him right for all the pain he's put me through over Janette, she thought to herself. With a grin, she slowly stood and raised her arms. The toga-like sheet slid downward. Nick's eyes were drawn to her cleavage. Natalie put her arms around his neck, pressing herself against the alabaster marble of his body. "Why don't you make me?" she cooed seductively. "Nat," he whispered harshly. In return, she kissed him hard, tickling his lips with her tongue and forcing his mouth to part. Nat tilted her head to deepen the kiss and felt his fangs grew long and hard. "Nat, I can't control if you." His words trailed off as Natalie's hands began a southward trek. The kiss ended as abruptly as it began. Nick grabbed Natalie's upper arms and jerked her backwards, away from him. He was terrified of losing control and taking her, killing her, then and there. Natalie's face reddened with anger even as the yellow glow was fading from Nick's eyes. "Fine." Her voice was cold. Like an empress, she pulled the sheet to her. "But don't expect me to make this easy on you." "Natalie," Nick offered, "can't you see I'm only trying to protect you?" "No, I don't," she argued. "When you proposed marriage, you said I was to be your eternal bride, and now you're going back on your word," she nearly shouted. "That was before I knew you had a cure," he returned just as angrily. For a long moment, she stood angrily staring at him. Then with all the grace of a queen, she gathered the folds of the sheet about her, turned and into the bathroom. The clicking of the lock could be heard like a canon roar in the silent room behind her. LaCroix was beginning to feel better. Nick's apparent refusal to consummate his marriage vows amused him. "Why, Nicholas," he mocked, "I had no idea you were unable to rise to the demands of your bride." He pointedly eyed Nick's flat khaki shorts. "Perhaps, I may stand in for you?" he asked with psuedo-politeness. "I assure you I will do my best to rise to the occasion." The General chuckled at his son's darkening, angry eyes. This prompted him to take his joke one step farther. "Indeed, Natalie may find she prefers warm flesh over cold." That step took LaCroix entirely too far. One handed, Nick snatched LaCroix up from the bed and held him aloft. "You will not even think of touching her!" he roared into his former master's face. Nick's fangs were once again fully extended, but in rage this time, not desire. His eyes were red embers. The ringing telephone saved LaCroix's life. Nick dropped him and turned to answer the phone. "Yes," he growled into the receiver. His eyes, still red, glared at LaCroix. "I was just teasing, Nicholas," Lucien LaCroix muttered. He'd come close to losing his fragile mortal life. "It seems you've lost your sense of humor." He stood up and moved before the dresser mirror, attempting to adjust his suit. "Yes. Good. Thank you," Nick spoke rapidly. His eyes and temper were back under control. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began a series of calls. Twenty minutes later. Nick turned and spoke to the now presentable LaCroix. "We have reservations for a return flight to Toronto tonight." "Tonight?" Natalie asked. She had emerged, dressed in last night's clothing. "But, Nick," she complained. "It's our honeymoon." Nick spoke with a grimace. "Under the circumstances, Nat," he told her, "I think it would be best to return." End of Part 1 I cannot take credit for the main characters here. This is the third story in my incredibly silly series. It immediately follows "Honeymoon Horror." If you haven't read the first two stories, but would like to, I'll be happy to send them to you. There is some innuendo and rude language, but no more than you'd catch on television. Permission is granted to archive - if anyone is of a mind to do so. Please send all comments to Elise at HYPERLINK mailto:ejdeal@sga.quik.com LaCroix's Lament, Part 2 of 4 By Elise As the trio entered the airport, Nick saw Janette. Wearing a short, blue silk sheath dress which perfectly matched her eyes, she drew many appreciative stares. The only thing marring the perfection of the scene she made was the worried frown on her face. Janette ran to embrace Nick and placed a light kiss on his lips. "LaCroix," she whispered urgently, "what has happened to him, Nicolas? I can no longer sense our father." She lowered her voice below human hearing. "You have not killed him, have you?" Before Nick could speak, they were joined by Natalie and LaCroix. "I am here, Janette," he told her. His voice and manner were subdued. How could he ever face the Community as a mortal? Well, at least he knew his two children would stand by his side. "And so am I," Natalie retorted. Her voice and face were angry, again. She had seen the kiss and was very aware of how Janette still clung to her husband. Boldly, she pushed between them and pretended to smile. "We are married now as I'm sure you know. So, why don't you be a good little Elvira and leave my husband alone?" Nick winced at the "Elvira" comment, but LaCroix laughed aloud. "Husband?" Janette asked sweetly. She, too, flashed a fake smile. "In name only, I'm sure." She paused a moment to let that sink in. "I can still hear your heart beat." That was it. Nick quickly pulled Natalie through the terminal and outside where he immediately hailed them a cab. LaCroix and Janette watched their retreating backs. "Really, Janette, that wasn't very nice," LaCroix told her. He tsked rather loudly, but he grinned all the same. "And calling me Elvira was?" she countered. Then something unbelievable began to dawn on her. "You," she began then stopped. She wrinkled her perfect nose as if she smelled something rancid. "You have changed." Her voice held disgust. LaCroix cleared his throat before speaking. "Yes," he replied noncommittally. He held his temper in check. "It seems I have become mortal." The ex-master vampire tossed his head with self importance, defying her to comment. "Mortal?" Janette squeaked. "But how?" He sighed loudly and took her arm, guiding her to the exit. "It is a long story which I will tell you on our way home." * * * * * All the way home, Natalie refused to speak to him. When they reached the loft, she slammed the door of the cab and stormed up to the loft leaving him to handle the cab fare. "Nat?" Nick called out hesitantly as he entered the loft. She was nowhere to be seen. "Mrorw." "Hi, Sydney," Nick spoke to the hungry feline. "Where's your mama?" He reached down to stroke Natalie's pet. Sydney suddenly flattened his ears, hissed, and spit at Nick. The hair along his spine stood on end. One, two quick slaps in Nick's direction, and the cat vanished from sight. Nick heaved a sigh. First, Natalie was sputtering at him and now her cat. He loved Nat desperately, but she was being totally unreasonable. "Nat?" he called again as he headed up the stairs. Natalie lay on the bed fully dressed. She didn't move when he entered, but Nick knew she was not asleep. He sat down on the foot of the bed and folded his hands quietly in his lap. "Nat, we need to talk," he said gently. Still, she didn't move. "Okay," she agreed. "I guess that's all the action I'll get out of you." He stood up as he began shouting. "Why are you being so unreasonable?" he yelled. His temper had finally reached its limit. "Mortality is finally within my grasp. You've found a cure, and you're willing to throw it all away for a little sex?" Natalie still hadn't moved, but with his sensitive hearing, he could tell she was crying. Feeling guilty for causing her tears, Nick sank to his knees beside her. "Nat, I love you," he whispered into her ear. "You're my best friend, my confidant, my wife." He paused to stroke her hair. "One day, I swear it, I'll make you my lover and the mother of several small boys." She sat up with a trembling smile on her face, tears easing from the corners of her eyes. "I am so sorry, Nick," she blurted out. He moved to sit beside her on the bed and held her tightly. "I guess I have been selfish, but how long am I supposed to wait?" She lifted her eyes to his. "Maybe I can retrace my steps and reformulate the serum, but it'll take time." Nick took the edge of the sheet and wiped away her tears. "It took me two years to do it the first time." "Two years isn't that long to wait, Nat," he told her gently. "Maybe not for you, Nick," she told him. "I'm thirty years old, and my biological time clock is ticking pretty loudly. Another two years makes me thirty-two, and every year I lose increases the chances of problems in a pregnancy." He chuckled softly. "And if I bring you across or kill you, there will be no chance at all of pregnancy," he countered. "At least we could practice," she grumbled. Then suddenly she grinned at him and held out her hands. "Okay, I guess no one ever died of terminal horniness." Nick laughed. "Let's compromise." "Compromise?" he asked suspiciously. Natalie ignored him and continued. "You'll have to stay away from Elvira, or I won't make it. After two years if we haven't found the cure, you bring me across. Deal?" Nick ground his teeth. Her suggestion was fair and reasonable, and he knew he should agree, but he just kept picturing the big, tall, Black man from the traffic division. She had actually slept with Officer Randall Montgomery. Yes, he had slept with Janette and had done so on and off for over seven hundred years, but that was different. He growled deep in his throat. His fangs had begun to descend and were pinching his bottom gums. "All right," he snarled, "but no more Randy Montgomery." Natalie nodded solemnly and held up her right hand. "I promise." She couldn't believe he had actually believed her when she told him she'd slept with Randy. She hadn't and wouldn't. Grace liked Montgomery and was desperately trying to get him to notice her. Nat had helped her out by carrying messages to him. Yes, it was all pretty much junior high tactics, but it was working. Montgomery kept showing up at the lab, and he had asked Natalie if she thought Grace would go out with him. Natalie knew she shouldn't have told Nick that she and Randy had been having sex, but after hearing about Alyssa, she couldn't resist telling him just that one white lie. It served him right. She smiled and kissed him gently on the nose. Then she hopped off the bed. "Well?" she questioned him. "Are you ready? Let's go." "Go? Where?" he asked, puzzled. "To find LaCroix," she explained as she dragged him downstairs. "Right now his blood is the only link we have to the serum. All of my notes were in our luggage, remember?" Nick nodded and frowned. He'd forgotten about the luggage. "Okay," he told her. "Let me call the airlines and have them put a trace on our bags. They can reroute them back to Toronto." He walked to the telephone. "I guess we can spend our honeymoon doing full-time research." "Okay," Natalie agreed, "but in two year's time, mortal or immortal, you owe me a real honeymoon." "As you wish, milady," he answered in a proper British accent. He swept her a full bow, then turned to dial the airlines when the telephone rang. * * * * * LaCroix drew himself up to his most regal posture. "I fail to find the humor," he said coldly. Everyone was gasping for breath as they laughed at LaCroix. Janette caught her breath long enough to speak. "Oh, but it is hysterical, mon Pere," she told him. "You, Lucien LaCroix, the most feared vampire in Toronto, now a mortal." She clutched her middle tightly as she continued laughing. "Whatever shall we do with you?" LaCroix's icy blue eyes glared at the gathered Community. "You will do nothing with me," he intoned in a voice that used to shatter even the steeliest of nerves. "I only require the same respect that." He was unable to complete his sentence. For at that precise moment his traitorous body chose to rumble, loudly. His face reddened with humiliation as the gastronomical concerto continued with gusto. The crowd again, for the umpteenth time since his entrance, collapsed into a chortling mass. "It would seem we should feed him," Aristotle spoke as gently as he could. Poor Lucien, he thought. Ah, but, as they say, we reap what we sow. "Or we feed on him," a voice called from the crowded room. Several of the vampires present pushed forward towards the vulnerable General. LaCroix's delicate mortality was saved by another cat-call. "Feed on the General? That old fart would most likely taste like vinegar!" The crowd laughed again and fell back into place, and Lucien LaCroix breathed a secret sigh of relief. Aristotle moved forward to eye his old companion speculatively. "Well, Lucien, I don't quite know what to say." He removed his glasses and rubbed the lenses on a cocktail napkin. "I'll set the circuits busy looking for a reversal of the good doctor's work. She must be one hell of a woman," he laughed. LaCroix nodded curtly. "Yes, I would appreciate and reward (he said this very loudly) anyone who is instrumental in returning me to my former state." He turned to make sure everyone had heard. They were now no longer laughing. LaCroix's wealth was legendary. LaCroix nodded again and faced Aristotle. "And, yes, Dr. Lambert is indeed one hell of a woman." Aristotle pursed his lips and scratched his nose. "Okay, I'll set the world-wide Community to work, but there is a slight problem." "Problem?" LaCroix demanded haughtily. "I see no problem." "Oh, but there is one to be sure," Aristotle insisted. "I hate to point it out, but you are no longer a vampire; therefore, you are no longer a part of our family. So you must leave us and live among the mortals." LaCroix sputtered with indignation. "You dare suggest that I." "And you should pray to the old gods and any new ones that the Enforcers do not find you!" That took the wind out of LaCroix's sails. He drew in a deep breath and let it go hoping some of his anger would go with it. With cold contempt he shouted, "Fine! Brianna, call me a suitable hotel and make reservations for me." "Call yourself," she shouted back. "I don't take orders from mortals." The crowd hooted. LaCroix's face reddened with anger, but he dared not order her again. He was damnably mortal, and she might well take revenge for all the extra unpaid hours he'd made her work. His nose wrinkled, the fine lines surrounding it turning white, as he fought to maintain control. Back held rigid, he marched to the bar and snatched up the telephone receiver. Aristotle cleared his throat loudly. "Can you really afford to stay at such a fine hotel, Lucien?" "Of course, I can," LaCroix snapped back. Aristotle shook his head negatively, and LaCroix slowly replaced the handset. "Just what are you implying?" he demanded. Aristotle truly felt sorry for the General, but he couldn't keep the grin from creeping across his face. "Well, since you are no longer a vampire and no longer a member of our Community." "I know that already," LaCroix nearly shouted. "Get on with it!" "All right," Aristotle agreed. "You may no longer have control of the vast fortune and monies you acquired while you were of our kind." "You would cast me out penniless?" screamed LaCroix. He was aghast. "Stop your laughing all of you!" he furiously spouted at the crowd. This made them howl all the more. "Janette, he grasped his daughters arms, "you will lend me the money." "I certainly will not," she informed him. As he stood with utter shock on his face, she explained. "It is about time you paid for all the suffering you caused others. Besides," she added, "I've had to replace the sound system in here last week, and it cost a fortune." "But what will happen to me?" he asked weakly. "Where will I go? What shall I do?" "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn!" the room chorused. Then it swelled into raucous laughter. LaCroix's bottom lip stuck out, but he refused to cry. Aristotle took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. He couldn't help it. The irony of the situation was just too much. "Hubris, my old friend, never helped anyone." He cleared his throat. "Now, don't worry overmuch. I'll make some arrangements so you will be employed." He lowered his voice. "Now, it would be prudent if you left." LaCroix, in a state of shock, nodded mutely. He again reached for the telephone. "Nicholas, will take me in," he murmured. He placed the call, and as he had predicted, Nicholas agreed to come pick him up. * * * * * When Nick drove up to the Raven, LaCroix was standing on the curb, suitcase in hand. Nick parked the car, and he and Aristotle helped LaCroix along with his lone suitcase into the back of the Caddy. Having shut the passenger side door securely, the elder vampire leaned in Natalie's window. "I'll make arrangements for some type of employment for him." Aristotle jerked his thumb towards the sad occupant of the back seat. "And I'll personally handle his finances until he returns," he paused to eye Natalie with a smile, "or until the High Council decides what to do with him." Nick nodded curtly. "Natalie and I will see to him tonight, and tomorrow we'll place him in Natalie's old apartment." "Ah, yes, Natalie," Aristotle beamed the words. Gently, he reached for her hand and drew it to his lips. He kissed it softly. "You are an amazing woman, and I, for one, am delighted to meet you." He squeezed her hand, and she blushed. "Yes, well, there are others of our kind who won't be so favorably impressed with her research," Nick said sourly. He pulled her hand back into the car and drove away. "Nick," Natalie chided, "you were rude to him." "He had no business kissing you," he muttered. Jealousy was still gnawing at him and growing with every hour. "You're my wife." "He kissed my hand, Nick," Natalie said in an exasperated tone of voice. "And you're my husband, but I didn't see you rushing to explain that to Elvira at the airport when she was slobbering all over you." Natalie's comment seemed to break LaCroix out of his reverie. "Janette disliked your calling her that," he said. "It wasn't very nice," Nick added primly. "I find it very clever," LaCroix retorted. "Especially now." "Why are you always defending her?" Natalie asked acidly. "You don't want to be married to me?" She raised her voice. "Fine, I'll file for an annulment on the grounds of inability to consummate the marriage." LaCroix burst into laughter. Nick tried very hard to ignore him. He took a deep breath and ground his teeth "Natalie, I do want to be married to you. I just don't want." "If he does not want you, I do," LaCroix interrupted. "I can consummate a marriage." That tore it. "Perhaps you'd prefer staying in a homeless shelter?" Nick suggested angrily. Natalie stared out the window at the passing vehicles. Nick's next words came out stiffly. "I thought we had an agreement." "We do, Nick," Natalie answered softly. She turned back to face him and lay a warm hand on his knee. "But if I have to abstain for," - Her voice dropped an octave. - "for two years, you do too." She reached up to touch his face. The raspy beginnings of a beard were there. "I love you, Nick, but I know that Janette is your greatest weakness. After all, it was she who brought you to LaCroix in the first place." Natalie paused and took a deep breath. Now seemed the right time to admit to something he knew anyway. "I'm just so very jealous of her." Although the traffic was especially heavy, Nick chanced a quick glance at her. She's jealous of Janette. So that's what it is. He thought rapidly and smiled as the big light bulb finally came on for him. "Agreed." "If you find you cannot stand the pressure, Natalie," LaCroix called out from the back seat, "I shall be more than happy to offer you my services." He smiled pleasantly and batted his eyelids innocently at Nick's face in the rearview mirror. Oh, how he loved to tease Nicholas. Nick ground his teeth in rage until they ached, but he refused to take the bait * * * * * Although the animosity between them was thick enough to cut, both LaCroix and Nick united as gentlemen and hung back to allow Natalie first entrance to the loft. Stony-faced, they stared at each other in some strange, ritualistic masculine contest of testosterone. The loser would be the male who capitulated to the will of the other. "You first," LaCroix offered with a fake smile. Nick smiled back just as falsely. "After you." "Oh, but I insist," his master told him. Nick placed a hand over his heart and intoned solemnly, "Age before beauty." LaCroix's smile deepened, showing positive dimples. He took a step forward, stopping in the doorway, and cut an amused look at Nicholas over his shoulder. "Pearls before swine," he asserted before following Natalie into the loft. Upon entering, LaCroix immediately began his poor-me routine. "I am hungry," he muttered. He looked down at Natalie with the saddest expression she'd ever seen. "You can't be hungry," Nick scoffed. "You fed this morning in Atlanta." He shook a finger at LaCroix. "Besides it's almost sunrise, and I'm going to bed." "But I am hungry," LaCroix said in a teeny voice. His stomach voiced its agreement. Natalie's biological clock, so long ignored, struck twelve and rang throughout her subconscious. Her maternal instincts surged forward and compelled her to rush to defend the now defenseless LaCroix. "Nick!" She gasped as she wheeled around to confront her husband. "How can you be so mean?" LaCroix, sensing her mood, grinned triumphantly, and then quickly covered his face with his hands. He gave quite a masterful performance of a hungry and frightened child. The one-time General even managed to squeeze out a few clear, salty tears and allowed them to trickle down his ashen cheeks. Natalie was furious. Couldn't Nick see that LaCroix had changed? He wasn't the evil master vampire any longer. He was a terrified mortal suddenly thrown into a world with which he wasn't ready to cope. "For your information, Nick," she stormed, "mortals are required to eat - not feed - more than once a day." She wound her arms around LaCroix's shaking shoulders and held him, stroking his back. "There, there," she soothed. "I'll get you some breakfast." The General carefully raised his head from her neck until he could see Nicholas' face. Then he did something he hadn't done in over two thousand years. Lucien LaCroix stuck out his tongue. He followed this act with an enormous grin and was rewarded by seeing Nicholas become quite apoplectic. If he were mortal, the dear boy, would most certainly have a stroke! LaCroix thought with glee. Natalie guided her little lost lamb to the doorway. She then turned with angry eyes and held out her hand palm upwards. "Give me the keys to the Caddy and some money," she demanded. "Natalie," Nick complained. He knew it wouldn't do any good to argue. She had fallen for LaCroix's miserable little act, hook, line, and sinker. Nick was furious with LaCroix, but he didn't want to tackle Natalie and her current attitude. "Here," he grumbled as he handed her the required items. "Where are you going?" "To McDonalds," she told him. "Nick." Her voice was softer and she touched the side of his face. "We won't be long." She paused searching for words. "It should have been you who became mortal." She paused again. "No, it will be you. Just as soon as I can retrace my steps, it'll be you I take to breakfast at McDonalds." Nick smiled, considering exactly what revenge he intended to inflict on his former master. Maybe he could ask Aristotle to find him a job collecting garbage. He was certainly good at creating it. Natalie looked at her husband's face and noted a measure of calmness there. She assumed he was accepting the situation. LaCroix would need their help to learn to function in the mortal world again, and they would definitely need his help in order to prepare another serum. "I'm glad you're beginning to understand." "Oh, I'm beginning to understand quite a bit," Nick answered sarcastically. His eyes never left LaCroix's face. The General's belly again made its empty presence known. He smiled and placed a hand over it to quiet it. "Come on, Nat," he said brightly. "Let us go watch the sunrise while we break our fast." End of Part 2 I cannot take credit for the main characters here. This is the third story in my incredibly silly series. It immediately follows "Honeymoon Horror." If you haven't read the first two stories, but would like to, I'll be happy to send them to you. There is some innuendo and rude language, but no more than you'd catch on television. Permission is granted to archive - if anyone is of a mind to do so. Please send all comments to Elise at HYPERLINK mailto:ejdeal@sga.quik.com LaCroix's Lament, Part 3of 4 By Elise Six bottles in one hour, it was a new record for him. Natalie and LaCroix had been gone an hour, and Nick was furious. Furious with LaCroix for being the deceitful creature that he was and furious with Natalie for being so damned naïve. Most of all, he was furious with himself for feeling so jealous. The longer he sat and brooded on the subject, the more he drank. Nick's face was dark with anger and frustration, his eyes a pale yellow. It wasn't too soon for him when he finally heard the Caddy pulling into the garage below. Natalie walked straight to Nick, ignoring the beast, and handed him the keys to the Caddy along with his change. She kissed him nervously on the cheek before removing and hanging up her coat and purse. LaCroix groaned in the manner of elderly men who have indulged too much at the dinner table. He collapsed onto the couch, unbuttoned his trousers, and belched loudly. Natalie giggled, but Nick was livid. "You are a disgusting pig, LaCroix," Nick said in a low, soft, dangerous voice. Natalie's smile faded. She couldn't, for the life of her, figure what was wrong with Nick. At least she couldn't until LaCroix spoke. "And you are jealous that it is I and not you who have achieved this mortal state of piggieness," he retorted. Nick stood, fists and teeth clenched. Catlike, he moved forward and stood towering over LaCroix. "You will leave my home immediately and take up residence in Natalie's old apartment. It has all been arranged." With vampiric speed, he was beside the telephone, receiver in hand. "I will call you a cab." Steely-eyed, LaCroix attempted to stare down his former son. "Natalie will take me there in the Caddy," he replied lazily. "After I take a few samples," Natalie agreed as she took her medical kit from the sofa table. She would have agreed to almost anything at this point. The situation was beginning to scare her. "Now this won't hurt a bit," she said and sat down on the couch next to LaCroix. "Natalie will stay here with me, her husband," Nick roared. Both LaCroix and Natalie stared at Nick in amazement. "Really, Nick, it's no bother. I can drop him off and see that he's tucked in on my way to the lab with these samples," she said in a very small voice. "I do not wish you to do so," he ordered. "I want you here with me. If this were Janette in like situation, would you wish me to see that she was tucked in?" Natalie closed her mouth. She pulled out an empty syringe, an alcohol pad, and a rubber cord. "Sorry, LaCroix," she told him as she tied the cord around his upper arm. "Nick wins this round," she told him. "Now hold still." When she was done, a petulant LaCroix looked up to see his son standing near the elevator with LaCroix's still unpacked suitcase in his hand. The General stood reluctantly and cast a glance down at the good doctor. She was busily placing the sample in the refrigerator and simultaneously avoiding his eyes. Sighing deeply, he straightened his clothing and gracefully moved to the door. "Have a nice life," Nick offered as he passed the suitcase to LaCroix. The door had barely shut when Nick flashed to Natalie's side. "Nat," he told her. "I am sorry about the way things have turned out." He took her by the hand and headed towards the stairs, pulling her along. "This is not the way I pictured beginning our life together." "Me either!" "Let's go to sleep," he told her. He was very careful to emphasize the word "sleep." "I know what you're saying, Nick," Natalie told him. "But could we at least share the bed?" Nick frowned but nodded. "We can try." He paused then added sternly, "But promise me one thing." "What's that?" "No more T-shirts," he grinned. "At least not for two more years." They both laughed and headed upstairs. * * * * * Natalie hadn't moved out of her apartment completely even though Nick had asked her to do so. Good old Nick was a by-the-book man. Their plan (so he thought) was for him to bring her over on their wedding night, and he had wanted to empty her apartment and have everything moved into his loft beforehand. Nat had moved most of her clothing and most of her personal belongings, but she had procrastinated about moving the really big items every time he brought up the subject. Natalie knew that, with her cure, they would need the groceries she kept stocking up on, the cookware, and the dishes. She knew Nick would want a nice, sunny apartment to begin his mortal life anew. That cold, empty, lonely loft with all its morbid souvenirs was the last place she wanted to begin a happy mortal life with Nick. So it was a still furnished, fully-functional apartment that Lucien LaCroix moved into with his meager belongings. He let himself into his new (Natalie's old) apartment and instantly turned to lock the door behind him. While at McDonald's Natalie had impressed upon him the fact that as a mortal, he had no special way of defending himself. He would never admit it, but she had him nearly paranoid with fear. Slowly, he wandered the apartment, examining everything he saw. Finally, he entered the bedroom and unpacked his little suitcase. He was quite furious to find his suits were wrinkled. Janette had only allowed him to take one suitcase. With haughty disgust, he tossed Natalie's remaining clothing and things to the floor and kicked them out of his way. Now, his suits would have a proper place in which to hang. * * * * * It was nearly sunset when Natalie awoke. Nick lay curled around her back, their bodies spooned together. Carefully, she twisted around to face her husband, trying not to wake him. Nick looked so innocent in his sleep, so sweet. He sighed and mumbled some unintelligible dream-induced words, and his parted lips revealed long, hard, sharp fangs. Still mumbling sleepy words, Nick pulled Natalie close to him and nuzzled her hair. Nat grinned to herself as she realized that his fangs weren't the only part of his anatomy to be aroused. Slowly, he woke, his eyes a smoky amber, and he kissed his wife tenderly. "Good evening," he murmured. She returned his greeting before she returned his kiss. "Good evening to you, too." When the kiss ended, Natalie asked hesitantly, "How's your control?" "Manageable." He kissed her again. "Good," she replied. Natalie returned the second kiss. "Maybe, just maybe, Nat," he told her as he pushed her onto her back, "maybe with a little luck and a lot of patience, we could." The telephone rang. Both of them froze. Simultaneously, they spoke. "We're cursed," Nat whispered. "Ignore it," Nick urged. Accompanying the second ring, was Natalie's beeper. It vibrated on the dining room table, where she had left it before the wedding, and buzzed loudly enough to be heard upstairs. "I don't believe it," Natalie spoke sharply. Nick shook his head in denial and rolled onto his back. "Nicolas, get up!" Janette shrilled. Both Nick and Natalie sat bolt upright. "What the hell are you doing here?" demanded Natalie as she snatched on her robe. Janette pointedly ignored her and turned beseechingly to Nick, who was struggling into his pants. "I have just received an emergency call from LaCroix." She spoke in a worried tone of voice. "Our father claims he is dying." Nick froze in the middle of dressing. His pants were up but unzipped, and his shirt hung unbuttoned. "Dying?" asked Natalie. She had already pulled on jeans and a sweater. Now she was tying her sneakers. Her doctor's training had prepared her to be ready in an instant. "Yes, thanks to you and your potions," Janette spat. "Well, if he wasn't so mean in the first place," Nat argued as she rose to her feet, "he wouldn't be in this fix." She pushed her way past the vampiress and began helping the bewildered Nick to dress. "Besides, if you care so much for him, why aren't you looking after him? Why did you throw the poor man out without any money?" Natalie rubbed it in, and she refused to feel the least bit sorry even when she saw the ruby tears slipping down Janette's face. Grabbing the now dressed Nick by one hand and her medical bag by the other, Natalie pulled them down the stairs. She handed him the keys to the Caddy. "C'mon, Nick," she ordered. "Let's go." All three of them raced to the car, and soon they were roaring out of the garage on their way to help. * * * * * When the trio arrived at Natalie's apartment, LaCroix met them at once. He flung open the door and collapsed to the floor as they entered. "I'm dying," LaCroix gasped out. "My stomach is on fire." As if on cue, LaCroix curled himself into a ball and moaned with pain. Natalie knelt at his side with her ever-present medical kit. "LaCroix?" she asked. "Can you hear me?" A low groan answered her. "You said your stomach hurts?" She began to poke and prod his abdomen while continuing to question him. "It feels as if I have swallowed Vesuvius!" Nick looked on in bewilderment. His hands shook. He had never, ever in nearly eight hundred years seen LaCroix in such pain, not even when the General had been staked. More guilt set in as Nick remembered how rudely he had treated his father earlier that day. Natalie was shaking her head. "There is no swelling, and he doesn't complain of anything else," she told Nick. Remembering the day before in Atlanta, Natalie frowned before asking her next question. "LaCroix," Natalie asked her writhing patient. "Have you eaten anything today?" "Yes, I made my first meal in your kitchen tonight," he cried as he held his stomach in pain. "I did not forget yesterday's lesson so soon." "You what?" Natalie asked in utter disbelief. She sat back onto her heels. LaCroix had cooked his own meal, a real mortal meal, all by himself. The very thought was mind-boggling. Shaking off her incredulity, Natalie spoke sharply to her patient. "What did you eat?" Her voice was blunt and demanding. "I had a few chili cheese hotdogs, a slice or two of leftover pizza, a bag of French fries, some onion rings, and several colas," LaCroix clutched his belly while itemizing his lunch. "And I did snack a bit this afternoon while watching television." Natalie's jaw dropped. "Is that all?" "No, I had what was left of the carton of Hagan-Daas for dessert." "Is he all right, Nat?" Nick asked. "What have you done to our father?" Janette demanded. "Nick," Natalie muttered slowly, "get him a glass of water." She dug around in her medicine bag and extracted two medications. From a small, white, plastic bottle, she shook out two orange and white capsules, then replaced the cap. Next, she produced a pink, chalky liquid, which she poured into a small dose cup. "Here," she ordered the General as she shoved the capsules at him. With huge trusting eyes, Lucien LaCroix sat up (aided by Janette) and swallowed the medication followed with a sip of water from the glass that Nick held for him. Nat held out the cup of pink fluid. "Now this," she insisted. Obediently, LaCroix took the proffered cup and tossed back its contents. Shivering violently he lay back down. Nick scooped up his miserable master and placed him gently on the couch. "Will he live?" he whispered. "He'd better live, or you will die," Janette glared at her. Natalie snorted rudely and ignored Janette completely. "Yes, he will live. He has a tummy ache from all he ate," she explained. "I gave him two Tylenol and a Pepto-Bismal chaser." Nick looked relieved and irritated at the same time. He stood staring down at the sad sight of his one time master, the most feared vampire in Toronto if not the world, now huddled on Natalie's couch with a belly ache. "You scared us half to death because of a case of indigestion?" Janette squeaked. She was livid with outrage. "LaCroix, you are an ass!" LaCroix finally regained his dignity. "I am sorry to have bothered you with my mere mortal's compliant, my dear Elvira." Natalie giggled. Janette shot her a murderous look. "You can forget any further help from me," she told him angrily. "I hope you never re-gain your vampire status. I hope you become fat and bald. I hope." "Yes, yes, I understand." LaCroix sighed and rolled his eyes. " `How sharper than serpent's tooth it is to have an ungrateful child.'" LaCroix quoted. "But then," he added wickedly, "my child seems to be wearing the serpent's teeth. Aren't you, my dear?" He smiled at her and then at Natalie. Natalie giggled, again. Janette vanished in a huff. Natalie moved to sit beside LaCroix. Nick frowned. "It's okay, LaCroix, Natalie told him as she soothed his brow. "You simply can't cram that much junk food into a stomach that hasn't seen solid food in nearly two thousand years." LaCroix settled under her touch. "You hands are so warm," he murmured. Nick's frown deepened. LaCroix reached up and drew one of her hands to his mouth. Softly, he kissed it. "Gratias," he whispered in his Latin native tongue. Natalie smiled and gave her reply in Latin as well. "You're welcome." Nick stood up to his full height and cast a cold eye on LaCroix. "We shall leave now," he announced and pulled Nat to her feet. LaCroix stood. "I, I," he stammered. "I need some help here." He stared at his toes. Nick rolled his eyes. "You certainly do," Natalie agreed. "LaCroix, you've been here exactly one day, and you've trashed the place." She gazed around at her ruined apartment. The couch and its surrounding area were littered with magazines, papers, empty plates and food containers. Crumbs were everywhere, and greasy fingerprints covered everything including several video tapes which lay scattered about as well. Natalie stood and wandered in awed disbelief to her kitchen. Every pot, pan, and dish she owned was covered in a tomato-y colored crud. There was a spill of a brownish nature in the center of the floor. LaCroix, in an apparent attempt at cleaning, had tossed six tea towels over the mess. On the counter, empty cans and boxes stood like soldiers in a row. Shaking her head in wonder, Nat left a surge of genuine fear when she turned to move down the hall towards the bedroom. Clothing, her clothing, was strewn up and down the hallway or huddled in medium sized piles. On opening the bedroom closet, she took careful note of the fact that LaCroix's clothing -all five shirts and two suits - were neatly hung and carefully spaced apart to avoid any wrinkles. The entire previous contents of her closet had been evicted in order for him to establish a proper home for his own wardrobe. "I don't even want to see the bathroom," she spoke wearily to herself. "Congratulations, LaCroix," Nick said sarcastically, "in less than twelve hours you have successfully trashed Nat's apartment." Good, thought Nick, now maybe Natalie will see through his little act. "Haven't you heard of picking up after yourself?" Nick continued. "A man of your age making such as mess. You should be ashamed of yourself." LaCroix allowed his bottom lip to quiver slightly. "I am sorry, Nicholas, Natalie." He looked briefly at his shoes. "I did hang up my clothes." "Yes," Nick agreed vehemently, "and threw Nat's on the floor!" LaCroix's voice was a bare whisper. "I have never had to clean. I do not know how." "What do you mean?" Natalie asked. "Yes, do tell," Nick insisted. He hated this poor-pitiful-me routine LaCroix was playing. The General faced the angry couple. "When I was a mortal, our family was one of the richest in Rome. We had slaves to do our bidding. They took care of such menial tasks. Later, when I was a vampire," - a single tear tracked its way down his cheek - "I would hypnotize some mortal into doing such chores for me." He drew in a deep, trembling breath. "If you will show me how, Natalie, I swear I will try to do better. I do not wish you to be ashamed of me." "LaCroix," Nick growled, "what game are you up to now?" Natalie threw her hands into the air. "Well, I guess I could stay for a while tonight and help get you started." She turned to Nick. "It is my name still on the lease, and I am responsible." "I absolutely forbid it!" "You what?" Natalie cocked an eyebrow, shifted her weight to the right foot, and placed her left hand on her hip. She was daring Mr. Nicholas B. Knight to say that just one more time. "I said," Nick spoke slowly and carefully, "I absolutely forbid it!" Natalie's face turned red. Ignoring Nick completely, she walked to the closet and opening the door, pulled out a vacuum cleaner. "Lesson one, LaCroix. This cleans carpets." "Lucien, please,' he said with an infectious grin. He just loved stirring up mischief for Nicholas, and the dear, dear boy made is so easy at times. Natalie couldn't help but smile back. "Lucien," she said and nodded her head in acknowledgement. "But first we have to pick up." Nick stood in growing anger and despair. He couldn't believe how gullible Natalie was. "I believe I shall return to work at the precinct then," he said in a clipped, icy tone. Although both Lucien (who was picking up and rewinding video tapes) and Natalie (who was picking up and stacking magazines) heard him, neither of them paid him any attention. Suddenly, Nick was there no more. LaCroix stopped and grinned at the place where Nick had stood, but Natalie caught his eye. "Listen, Buddy," she told him. Her voice was no-nonsense. "The only reason I'm helping you is because Nick forbade it. In the morning, my name comes off the lease, and the rest of my personal things and clothing are out of here. You can keep the furnishings. But after tomorrow morning, you're on your own." * * * * * "Hey, Nick, come back to work so you can get some rest?" "Did Nat the Cat wear you out so soon?" "Yo! How's it hanging stud?" Nick was bombarded with cat-calls and lewd comments the moment he set foot back in the station. This had been a mistake. Thankful that he couldn't blush, he dropped into his seat opposite his partner. Schanke nodded sagely to himself. "It was the Creepy Crawler, wasn't it? I knew that guy had no business going on your honeymoon. Man oh man!" Nick opened his desk drawer and found a pen and some forms. He ignored Schanke and all the lascivious commentary. "So, why'd you guys leave Bermuda so soon?" Schanke asked. That caught Nick's attention. "Bermuda?" he asked darkly. Schanke grinned. "Yeah, I'm the one who exchanged the tickets," he admitted. "I figured if you guys had to put up with Uncle Creepy, you sure didn't need to deal with the rest of the family too." Don Schanke shrugged. "Hey, besides, Partner, with all that money you've come into recently, you and Nat can visit relatives any old time." Nick stared at his partner, wondering if it would make him feel better to kill Schanke now or if he should save the murder for later when Natalie could be there. "You don't have to thank me for saving you guys from `da family'- sounds like the Mafia, huh?" Schanke added. "Just tell me all the details." He leaned forward over his desktop. "Our luggage went to London." It was said flatly. "Oh. I guess I forgot about the bags." Don Schanke paused a minute. His grin faded momentarily but quickly returned. "Well, it's not like you and Nat needed any pajamas. Huh? Huh?" "We, all three of us, spent the day in Atlanta, Schanke, and flew home yesterday." "What?" Schanke was shocked. "That's it? No hanky-panky? No, I guess there wouldn't be with Uncle Buck hanging around." "Hey, Knight, er De Brabant, whatever your name is." Nick turned to see that the deep voice belonged to Randy Montgomery. The traffic officer was standing over his desk. Instantly, jealousy gripped him. Nick ground his back teeth as he clamped his mouth shut just in time to prevent his fangs from showing. "Hmm?" The tall Black man towered over Nick - even when they were standing. He waved a folder in front of the detective, flexing his huge muscles. "I'm on my way to take a copy of this report over to the coroner's office." He grinned, showing perfect, even, and dazzlingly white teeth. "Natalie and Grace's offices." Nick nodded, praying his eyes wouldn't go amber and that he could keep the beast in check. How dare he taunt me with the knowledge that he has touched Natalie, Nick thought. "Anything you want me to take over there?" he asked. "I'd be glad to make a special delivery to Nat for you." Nick shook his head and stared at the blank form on his desk. "No one's down there," Schanke informed the traffic officer. "Grace put in for her vacation time when Nat took hers." Montgomery snorted. "Shoot! I'm not going all the way over there for nothing then. No girls, no go." Montgomery turned and walked back across the room. "Listen, Nick." "Scahnke," Nick interrupted, "Don't even speak to me," he roared before once again staring at the paper before him. "Jeez!" Scahnke muttered. "Well, excuse me." End of Part 3 I cannot take credit for the main characters here. This is the third story in my incredibly silly series. It immediately follows "Honeymoon Horror." If you haven't read the first two stories, but would like to, I'll be happy to send them to you. There is some innuendo and rude language, but no more than you'd catch on television. Permission is granted to archive - if anyone is of a mind to do so. Please send all comments to Elise at HYPERLINK mailto:ejdeal@sga.quik.com Okay, this last part gets really strange, but I swear to you on my Electrolux that it IS entirely possible to get oneself caught in such a fashion. :o) LaCroix's Lament, Part 4of 4 By Elise Natalie had put LaCroix in the kitchen with explicit instructions for cleaning. Although he had never done such menial tasks, he had to admit to himself that there was some degree of satisfaction available from cleaning. When one cleaned, one received immediate physical proof that one's efforts had made a difference. Cleaning is much like war, the ex-General thought to himself. If you wash a dish, you can see that the result of your efforts immediately. If you kill your opponent in battle, the results are also immediately obvious. Before he knew it, he was whistling a happy tune. Suddenly, a piercing shriek rent the air - a shriek along with a low grinding noise. "Lucien! Help!" "Natalie?" he yelled. LaCroix dropped the glass he had been washing, and it shattered on the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt forward, yelling. "I am coming!" With all the speed he could muster, the General hurled himself towards the bedroom. The low grinding noised had ceased, but Natalie's screams for help and cries of pain continued. In his headlong rush, LaCroix forgot he no longer possessed the grace of a vampire, and tripped over Natalie's shoes lying on the floor. He flew, a flight most unlike any in which he had ever engaged, into the bedroom head first and landed on the floor next to the Natalie's screeching form. "What is it?" he bellowed. Clambering to his knees, he regained his balance and wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell of burning human flesh. Natalie sat stiffly on the floor at the foot of the bed earnestly clutching in both her hands the hose attachment of the vacuum. Tears streaming down her face, Natalie pleaded for his help. "The vacuum has sucked up my foot! I can't get it off. It's stuck." "What do you mean it is stuck?" LaCroix demanded. "I was vacuuming barefoot and pulled the vacuum over my foot," Nat explained as best she could. Her face was red, and she was obviously in a lot of pain. "The beater bar sucked my toes up and around the bar backwards. I turned it off, but it's still burning, and I can't get the damn thing off." LaCroix grabbed the hose and pulled, but his efforts were met by Nat's screams. "Do something!" she yelled. Poor Natalie was fighting back panic by now. Grabbing the bedside telephone, LaCroix frantically began dialing 911. * * * * * Schanke had stayed quiet for as long as he could. The silence lasted all of twelve minutes. Then he began chattering away, convinced that his partner needed to be cheered up. He had just launched into his fifth "safe topic." "Yeah, Jenny's third grade teacher, Mrs. Zolkowski, is having a baby." He shook his head side to side. "Man, I tell ya, Myra and I had a rough time trying to weasel out of that explanation. Oh, and get this, Partner. She's having triplets! Can you believe it? So Friday will be her last day at school. Her doctor's ordered complete bed rest for her." "Hey, De Brabant." Randy Montgomery was back. His voice sounded odd. Nick steeled himself and looked up into the big man's liquid brown eyes. "What is it, Montgomery?" he asked, surprised to hear that his voice sounded normal. "Just got wind of a 911 emergency call. Came from Natalie's apartment. Thought you might." But Officer Randall Montgomery never got the chance to finish his sentence. Nick bolted from his desk, knocking Officer Montgomery to the floor (which he thoroughly enjoyed), and dashed out of the building. He took to the sky as soon as possible, vowing to completely dismember LaCroix. * * * * * Nick landed on the balcony of Natalie's apartment. He couldn't see past the closed draperies, but the sound coming from Natalie's bedroom chilled his blood. "If you will just lie on your back, Natalie," LaCroix was saying in a calm voice, "I believe I could be more effective in this attempt." "Hurry, LaCroix, I can't take it anymore!" Natalie's voice was panicky. "If you would just hold still a second, I think I could reach the." "Please be gentle. The skin is burned there." "Almost done, almost." LaCroix's voice was rising. "Get it out now!" Natalie screamed. "You're hurting me!" That was all Nick needed to hear. Smashing through the window, he blurred into the bedroom. His eyes a glowing amber, his fangs ready, Nick leapt onto LaCroix, pinning him to the floor. "Did I not tell you I would kill you if you touched Natalie?" Nick roared. But before LaCroix could answer or Nick could strike, the room was inundated by EMT's. Hastily and with great effort, Nick managed to quell his beast. Slowly he stood and turned to watch the unbelievable sight. "What's the problem here?" the first technician asked. His name tag identified him as Pete. "Her toes are stuck in the vacuum," LaCroix explained. "And I think Lancelot here, just broke my nose." LaCroix stood, hand to his nose, and faced the confused paramedics. "Do what, Buddy?" Pete's partner, Dan, asked. "Yep," Pete called over his shoulder where he knelt bay Natalie's side. "Toes are caught upside down around the beater bar. Don't know how in hell we'll fix this one. I guess we'll just have to take her to the emergency room." "Give me something for pain, or I'll do it myself," Natalie told them. She let go of the hose now that Pete had a firm grip on it and began digging around in his medical bag. "Hey, you can't do that!" "The hell I can't! I'm a doctor," Natalie was nearly hysterical. Nick dropped to her side. "Nat, love, what can I do?" "Make that mean man give me some drugs, Nick," she cried. "And make that buffoon stop laughing." She pointed to Dan, who was struggling not to laugh. After Pete administered something for the pain, the four men loaded Natalie, along with the vacuum, onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. Together they rode in strained silence (because no one dared laugh in front of Natalie) back to the hospital. LaCroix, whose nose was not broken, was left to finish the cleaning alone. Nick had informed him before leaving that, he would pay for the broken window, but LaCroix was not to bother them again for the next two weeks. * * * * * Nick held the vacuum steady as the paramedics unloaded Natalie and the stretcher. The emergency room staff was flabbergasted. No one had ever removed a vacuum from a person's foot before. The doctor on duty, a surgeon, began laughing immediately. "I don't see that there's anything I can do, unless you want me to amputate," he told them. Natalie, feeling much less pain now, grabbed him by the shirt front. "You listen to me, Jim Anderson, and you listen well," she told him. "You get this damn vacuum off my toes, or so help me, you'll be my next patient." Suddenly sobered, Dr. Anderson choked back his laughter. "Natalie Lambert!" He had finally recognized his patient. "All right," he muttered and ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. "Get Raymond out here fast." "Raymond Sanders, the neurologist?" Natalie asked in surprise. "No," Dr. Anderson confessed. "Raymond the janitor." Turning, he shouted, "Tell him to bring his tool box." * * * * * Within two hours time, Natalie was sent home with her foot wrapped up like Amenhotep. The vacuum pieces were sent home in a box with her. Amazingly, nothing was broken, and her skin had only minor burns. It seemed the vacuum had fared the worse. Nick set her down gently on the bed. He was horrified to think how jealous he had been over her. Never had he been this jealous over a woman. Not even Janette and her countless affairs had incensed him as the mere thought of Natalie being with another man. He had nearly killed LaCroix tonight. Randall Montgomery was another mortal whose life was held by a thread tonight. Nick still wanted to rip his head from his body. There was only one way Nick could be sure he wouldn't kill someone in a fit of jealousy. He would have to bring Nat across. He could see it clearly now. If they joined in the Dark Marriage, they would be forever bound to one another. Nick didn't want to bring her over, didn't want to damn her for all eternity, but there was no other way. Doing so would prevent an untold number of deaths due to his all consuming jealousy. "Nat," he ventured. "Would you marry me?" She stared at him as if he had lost his mind. "Nick, we are married, well, in name anyway." He smiled timidly at her. "I mean, would you allow me to bring you across and join me in the Dark Marriage?" "What? But you said." Natalie trailed off in confusion. She stared intently at him. "What changed your mind?" Nick shrugged. "I love you, Nat, more than I knew." She knew she would have to live with that answer until she could get more out of him. Slowly, she nodded her head in agreement. "Okay, Nick, I'll marry you all over again. What do I have to do?" Nick's face shone with happiness. Slowly, he closed his eyes and allowed the beast to the forefront of his consciousness. His eyes began to glow a deep amber color. Fangs extended, he looked deeply into Natalie's warm hazel eyes filled with trust and love. "Just close your eyes, Nat, and let me love you." The end, maybe