*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
FK Fanfic Archivers Note:

  Comments, questions, and feedback on this story can be sent
  to webmistress@fkfanfic.com, where they will be forwarded on
  to the author.  Thank you.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Mortals" 
A Forever Knight/Highlander Crossover 
by Cagey
April 1996 
 
Legalese:  None of the Forever Knight nor Highlander characters 
belong to me, but no copyright infringement is intended.  Lisa 
McKenzie and sundry other characters are figments of my  
imagination.  The story is mine, however, so please do not  
repost or reprint without permission. 

Other fanfiction by Cagey may be found at
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/1263/
 
"Mortals" is set post "Human Factor" in FK and post "Brothers in  
Arms" in HL. 
 
 
"Mortals" 

 
Chapter 1
    
     
"Thanks a lot for giving me a ride home, Natalie."  Tracy Vetter      
pushed back her blonde hair and tried uselessly to work the      
kinks out of her neck, attempting to massage away the     
frustrations of another night shift at the Toronto Police     
department.  "I told Nick that my car was in the shop, and he     
offered to give me a ride, but when I finished up my   
paperwork he was gone."       
     
Natalie Lambert nodded her head understandingly, hearing   
the irritation in the younger woman's voice.  She understood,   
even though Tracy could not, why Nick had not lingered at the   
police station to fulfill his promise.  Nicholas Knight was a   
vampire, and only Nat, of all his colleagues at the police   
department, knew his secret.    
  
As she drove through the quiet Toronto streets, Natalie had to   
wince a little at the tendrils of dawn light which flickered a   
little over the horizon.  Here was the reason that Nick had   
forgotten his promise.  She tried to imagine what it would be   
like to never again enjoy a sunrise, but quickly pushed the   
thought aside.  'Don't go there,' she reminded herself firmly,   
and returned her attention to Tracy, who had continued   
talking.     
     
"I mean, Nick's a really nice guy," Tracy went on, "but      
sometimes he is just so scatterbrained.  We'll be working on a      
case, for example, and he'll just start zoning.  Half the time he      
doesn't even listen to a word I'm saying.  Insensitive, that's   
what he is."     
     
Natalie felt a smile twitch across her lips as Tracy stopped      
talking abruptly, abashed.  "Talk about insensitive.  I'm sorry,      
Nat.  I know that you guys are friends--"     
     
"That's okay, Tracy.  You're right.  Nick can be pretty      
insensitive."  She shrugged, not willing to put up a defense      
against the charges that she too often leveled against Nick in      
her own head.  "He's got a lot on his mind," she said simply.       
They both did, for that matter.      
    
Since Janette, one of Nick's vampire "family" had left Toronto     
again, she and Nick had grown more distant than Natalie could     
ever have imagined.  'I can't take that chance,' he'd said,     
referring to the possibility that Janette had shown them, that if     
they were truly *together*, Nick might become mortal again.      
She had known he would say that.  It hadn't surprised her.      
Sadly, it had only strengthened her growing conviction that     
their lives had changed too much to have a real chance of being     
together.  In the beginning, she had helped Nick because he     
wanted to regain his humanity.  Then she had done it because     
*she* wanted it.  Now?  Now she was not sure that either of     
them--     
     
"Look out!"  Tracy's voice came a split second after she saw the      
figure on the motorcycle veering dangerously close to her car      
from a parallel lane.  At the same time as the occupants of the      
car realized the danger, so too did the motorcycle driver and he      
tried to correct the path of his bike.  It was too much--the      
motorcycle narrowly avoided hitting Natalie's car, but both   
bike and driver skidded dangerously across the pavement.    
Natalie slammed on the brakes and both she and Tracy ran to   
the figure lying much too still by the toppled bike.     
     
"Oh my god.  Tracy, you better call an ambulance--" Natalie      
began, but the helmeted figure raised a hand to stop her.  He      
pulled himself up carefully and sat still for a moment, then      
moved to take off his helmet.  The face beneath struck Natalie   
as entirely too cheerful for someone who had almost had a   
serious accident.  Blonde hair surrounded an open face, which   
at the moment wore an abashed expression.  "Are you okay?"   
she demanded, more harshly than she had intended.  She   
seemed to have absorbed the emotional impact of the near-  
accident which he had easily shaken off.   
     
The young man got up, brushing off his riding pants, and      
grinned.  "Yep.  It was worse than it looked.  I guess I've been   
riding too long without sleep.  Are you ladies okay?"     
     
"Apart from the fact that I just got an adrenaline boost big      
enough to keep me awake through my next three shifts?  I   
think that we're fine," Tracy answered.  She eyed the   
motorcycle behind him critically, continuing, "Looks like your   
bike is going to need a bit of work, though."  At Natalie's   
surprised look, Tracy said, a touch defensively, "What?  A   
friend of mine has one."     
     
Both Natalie and the young man grinned.  He waved a      
dismissive hand at the machine.  "It'll still run.  I'll fix the rest      
later myself.  By the way, I'm Richie Ryan."  He extended a      
hand, and both women shook it in turn.     
     
"Natalie Lambert," she said, "and this is Tracy Vetter.  Are you      
sure you are okay?  You could have been killed, but look at you     
--not a scratch on you."  Natalie tried to keep the inquisitive      
tone out of her voice, and reminded herself firmly that it was      
after sunrise.  This boy simply could not be anything but      
human.     
     
"I've always been lucky," he said.  "I'm really sorry if I scared   
you guys.  Let me make it up to you--let me buy you both   
breakfast."     
     
Both women eyed him warily, and he put his hands up in a      
gesture of surrender.  "Hey, I have two beautiful women      
looking after my welfare, and you think I'm not going to try to      
take advantage of it?  Besides, it's two against one--what harm      
could I do?"     
     
Tracy grinned.  "None.  Did I mention that I'm a cop?"     
     
"Ooh, a cop.  I guess that means that you have handcuffs...."     
     
 
******************* 
Chapter 2
     
    
Natalie pushed a hand out of her cocoon of blankets and hit the      
snooze button on the alarm at the bedside table.  No wait, that      
was not right.  It was not the alarm that had awakened her.  It      
was the phone.  Stupid phone.     
     
As if in answer to the slur, the phone rang again shrilly.  She      
fumbled for the receiver and answered sleepily, "Hello?"     
     
There was a pause on the other end, then a low, pleasant voice      
rumbled uncertainly, "I'm trying to reach Richie Ryan."  At that      
moment the man in question picked up the extension in the      
living room.     
     
"I'm here," he said to both of them.  To Natalie he said, "Sorry      
about that Doc.  I was making some coffee and missed the first      
ring."     
     
"That's okay.  I had to get up anyway," Natalie mumbled into      
the receiver, then hung up, leaving Richie to his phone call in      
privacy.  She lay still on the bed for a moment, reflecting upon      
Richie's presence in her living room.  It was odd having      
someone else in the house.  'Jeez Nat,' she thought wryly,      
'When's the last time you had a man in your house overnight?'       
Too long, she decided.  Now next time she would have to aim      
for a man that she was interested in having do more than sleep      
on her couch....     
     
That amusing thought sent her out of bed.  Richie had not      
technically been there overnight, but he turned out to be      
running on the same messed up schedule as the two women      
who had worked the night shift.  Apparently he had left late      
and driven over night to get to Toronto, where he hoped to      
locate a friend of his.       
     
Richie had made good on his promise, buying breakfast for   
both women at a little cafe.  The three of them had talked for   
some time over coffee, until neither Nat nor Tracy could keep   
their yawns at bay.  As they were leaving Richie had asked for   
a recommendation of a cheap place to stay.  *Really* cheap, it      
turned out--he had spent most of his money buying them      
breakfast.  Nat had given him an exasperated look, but it was      
good-humored--he was a very personable young man, and      
both Tracy and Nat had taken to him.  Richie had readily      
accepted Nat's offer allowing him to sleep on her couch, taking      
good-naturedly Tracy's jokes that she could identify him at the      
police station if he made any trouble at Nat's.     
     
Natalie glanced at the clock as she slipped on her robe,   
deciding that she had plenty of time to get ready for work that   
evening.  As she padded out into the main room, heading for   
the coffee which wafted so appetizingly towards her, she heard   
Richie saying heatedly on the phone, "I *know* that Joe.  I'll   
find him."     
     
Richie looked up as she went into the kitchen area and grabbed      
a coffee mug.  "Look Joe, I'll call you back when I've got more      
information.  I'll let you know where I'll be staying."  She      
regarded him blandly as he hung up the phone, trying not to      
show any reaction to his obvious upset.  Did she really want to      
get involved in a near-stranger's problems?     
     
He visibly seemed to shake off his unease, then said      
apologetically, "Sorry to wake you up, Doc.  I had a friend call      
me back so I wouldn't run up your phone bill, but it took   
longer than I thought it would for him to get back to me."     
     
Natalie gave Sidney, the cat who had suddenly appeared on   
the counter demanding attention, a pat and said easily, "That's   
no problem.  I really did need to get up."  She took a sip of the      
coffee, then asked tentatively, "Are you okay?"  So much for her      
resolve not to get involved.  Where was this mothering instinct      
coming from?     
     
After a moment Richie said, "That friend I told you I was      
looking for?  He might be in some trouble."  It was obvious   
from his expression that there was more to it, but he seemed      
unwilling to elaborate.     
     
"What kind of trouble?" she asked.  "Is there anything that I or      
Tracy can do?"     
     
Richie shook his head.  "Thanks, but no.  I don't want the police      
involved.  I just need to find him, but I'm not sure how long it      
will take."     
     
"Well, if you--"  Once again, Natalie was cut off, but this time it      
was by the figure of Nicholas Knight who came barreling      
through the door.  Thankfully, given her visitor, the vampire      
cop was moving at human speed.     
     
"Nat!" Nick called as he entered the apartment, then came to a      
stop as he spotted her.  Natalie could see him taking in her      
appearance, her robe and sleep-tousled hair, then Richie's      
presence.  "Nat?" he said again, this time uncertainly.  "Um,      
Tracy called and said that you had been in an accident this      
morning."       
     
She could easily read the expression on his face.  It was just as      
well that vampires could not blush.  For a moment Nat      
considered letting Nick's assumption stand, guessing that Tracy      
had purposely left out most of the story to tweak Nick's   
jealousy when he got here.  Nat made a mental note to chew   
Tracy out, and then buy her a bottle of wine in appreciation for   
the good joke.       
     
"I'm fine, Nick.  This is Richie Ryan--he got the worst of the      
mishap, but he's okay.  I let him stay overnight on the couch."       
Ignoring the look on Nick's face she turned to Richie.  "This is      
Detective Nick Knight, Tracy's partner."     
     
Richie extended a hand to Nick, who took it briefly.  "Nice to      
meet you, Nick.  You're lucky to have friends like Tracy and      
Doc."  Given Nick's obvious lack of enthusiasm about his      
presence, Richie wisely moved towards the door.  "Um, I'm      
gonna go take a look at my bike, see how bad the damage is."     
     

When he was gone, Nick turned to her enquiringly.  "You let      
some stranger stay in your apartment?"     
     
"Oh, chill out Nick," she said, suddenly weary of the      
conversation.  "Your friends are a lot more dangerous than that      
kid."  She put her coffee mug into the sink and moved towards      
her own room.  "I better get ready for work."     
     
His voice stopped her.  "Nat?"  She turned, and was pleased to      
see a gentle smile on his face.  "I'm glad that you are okay."     
     
She smiled too.  His jealousy and overprotectiveness she could      
do without.  His friendship, though?  "I'm glad you came.  If   
you stick around we can go into work together."     
     
He nodded, accepting the peace offering, and she went into her      
room with a lighter heart.     
     
 
*************** 
Chapter 3
   
     
Richie Ryan finished a few minor adjustments on his     
motorcycle, then wondered whether it was safe to go back into     
Natalie Lambert's apartment.  That Nick guy--talk about a cold     
fish.  Actually, now that he thought about it, even his hand had     
been cold when he shook it.  But strong.  In the brief moment     
that they had clasped hands, Knight's grip had tightened like a     
vise, an implicit threat lying behind his cool expression.       
     
Richie shrugged.  He had no intention of getting in this guy's   
way.  But he did need to go back up and get his stuff from     
Natalie's apartment so that he could start looking for his     
Watcher.  Well, he wasn't *his* Watcher, exactly, though as an    
Immortal--one who could only die by being beheaded--he    
certainly had one.  He was looking for a Watcher-- one of Joe's    
people.  The Watchers were a group that had been observing    
Immortals for centuries, unnoticed and uninvolved.  But Joe,    
one of the leaders of the group, was a friend of Duncan   
MacLeod, Richie's mentor, and when Joe had mentioned the   
problem, Richie had offered to help.  Besides, he owed Joe for   
helping him out when Duncan had gone nuts with that Dark     
Quickening.  Duncan had almost taken Richie's head, before   
Joe stopped him.       
     
What a laugh--an Immortal looking for a Watcher.  The man in     
question, Mike McKenzie, had disappeared a couple of days     
ago, and Joe's contacts had told him that McKenzie had headed     
to Toronto.  Watchers, who had spent most of their lives     
learning to be invisible, could be damned difficult to find when     
they did not want to be.  Joe was not sure why McKenzie had     
disappeared, but given the problems that the group still had     
with Hunters--Watchers who went from observing Immortals   
to destroying them--Richie understood why Joe was not   
willing to have any unexplained absences among his people.     
     
With a sigh, Richie peeked through the doorway to Natalie's     
apartment.  He did not see either the doctor or her friend, and     
he moved into the room quietly.  He could just grab his stuff     
and write Doc a note, then take off.  Picking up his jacket off   
the couch, Richie turned--     
     
And jumped when he saw Nick Knight standing in front of   
him.  "Going somewhere?" Knight inquired mildly.     
     
"Man you scared me!  Where did you come from?" Richie     
demanded.     
     
Nick grinned a little.  "Cops have to learn how to move   
quietly."     
     
"Well, you get top marks Knight."  Like Duncan, Richie thought     
inconsequentially.  Duncan McLeod could move as quietly as a     
panther when he wanted to.  "Listen, will you tell Doc thanks a     
lot for letting me stay here, but I really need to get going.  It's     
later than I thought, and I've got a lot of things to do."     
     
"Tell her yourself," Natalie said, coming out of the bedroom     
rubbing a towel through her long, wet hair.  "I thought that   
you were taking Tracy to pick up her car."     
     
Richie grinned.  "Yeah, I will.  She wanted to compare my bike     
to her friend's.  But I still need to get going.  I've taken up     
enough of your time and hospitality."     
     
"Good luck finding your friend," Nat offered.  "And Richie--if     
you need some help or someplace to stay, please let me know."      
     
Richie was touched by the genuine offer.  After too much time     
spent worrying whether everybody that he met was out to take     
his young Immortal head, it was pleasant to meet simple,     
normal people.  "Thanks Doc."  As he moved to the door, Nick     
gave him a nod.  "Nice meeting you Detective Knight," Richie     
added.     
     
In the hall, with the door shut behind him, Richie paused to   
put on his coat.  Within the apartment he heard Nick say,   
"You're right--he is a nice kid.  But he's hiding something."     
     
"Most people are, Nick.  You should know that better than    
anyone," Natalie's voice answered.  Her words echoed in his     
head as Richie moved quietly down the hall and out into the     
night.     
     
     
**************** 
Chapter 4
     
      
"Thanks for giving me a lift, Richie," Tracy Vetter said as she      
swung off the back of his motorcycle in front of the garage      
where her newly-repaired car was awaiting her.  "Are you sure      
there's not anything that I can do to help you find your friend?"      
      
Richie considered for a moment, then remembered that there      
was one piece of information that he needed in his search for      
McKenzie.  "Actually, there is something that you can do.     
Have you ever heard of a club called the Raven?"  He was    
surprised when Tracy's pleasant expression became guarded.      
      
"The Raven?" she asked.  "Why do you want to go there?"      
      
Richie thought back to what Joe had told him on the phone      
earlier.  One of the other Watchers had reported that McKenzie    
had been asking about the club.  "I think that's where my friend    
might be."      
      
Tracy, her face clouded, said, "I know where it is, but I better go   
with you.  The Raven's got a tough crowd."      
      
Richie smiled.  "I can take care of myself."  'As long as they    
don't try to take my head,' he added silently, 'I don't have    
anything to worry about.'      
      
Tracy shook her head firmly.  "You may be able to take care of      
yourself, but I'm going with you anyway."      
      
      
*****      
      

The interior of the Raven was dark, crowded with figures that      
seemed not to walk so much as glide across the floor.  Richie      
watched the beautiful blonde dancer on the main stage for a      
moment, then turned to follow Tracy through the throng      
towards the bar.  "Have you seen Vachon?" he heard her ask    
the bartender.      
      
A man materialized next to them, making Richie jump.  What      
was it with the people in Toronto?  "Hey Trace," the newcomer      
said quietly, his voice pitched so low that Richie could barely      
hear it.  "What are you doing here?  Working on a case?"  The      
man--tall, dark, long-haired and good-looking--spared Richie a      
glance, but concentrated on the young blonde cop.      
      
"Sort of," Tracy answered.  "Richie, this is Vachon."      
      
"Let me guess," he said, "the friend with the bike, right?"  At      
Tracy's answering nod, Richie grinned.      
      
"Vachon, Richie's looking for a friend of his who might be    
here."      
      
Vachon grinned at Tracy and asked, in a tone that Richie did    
not quite understand but which seemed heavy with some    
private amusement.  "What kind of friend?"      
      
"Just a regular guy," Tracy said with emphasis.      
      
Vachon shrugged.  "Ask Urs.  Her set is done."      

The beautiful blonde dancer moved towards them, and Richie      
was thrilled to discover that this was the Urs to whom Vachon      
was referring.  She even walked seductively, despite her almost      
childlike innocent face.  "Urs," Vachon said, "our friend here is      
looking for someone."      
      
Richie described McKenzie to her.  "He's about thirty, with      
brown hair, five foot ten, last seen wearing jeans and a green      
sweater.  He's got a limp."  McKenzie had been in a car accident      
the month before, and still had not completely recovered.      
      
Urs pursed her lips for a moment.  "I'm not sure, but I think    
that the guy you're talking about left just a few minutes ago."     
She looked at Vachon, some message passing between them.     
"He left with Carmen."      
      
"Are you sure?" Vachon asked as Richie and Tracy asked      
simultaneously, "Who's Carmen?"      
      
Urs nodded, answering Vachon's question.  "You might still be      
able to catch them."      
      
Vachon pulled Tracy towards the door, with Richie following.       
Outside, Vachon said to Tracy, "I'll see if I can still find them,'      
and disappeared, leaving Richie looking at Tracy, confused.      
      
"What's going on?" he asked.      
      
"I told you that the Raven had a rough crowd.  Apparently    
your friend McKenzie got involved with some people that he      
shouldn't have."  Just as Richie began to wonder what he had      
gotten himself into, Vachon reappeared.      
      
"Are you on duty yet Trace?" he asked the woman.       
      
"I guess so," she answered, uncertain.  "Why?"      
      
"I found the guy you were looking for."  
 
 

**************** 
Chapter 5
   
   
Joe Dawson limped into the Toronto Coroner's Office wearily.     
His strong frame normally belied any weakness, but now he   
leaned heavily on his cane.  The trip had been rushed, and   
moreover he did not look forward to the puzzle awaiting him.    
One of his Watchers had gone AWOL, and then turned up   
dead in mysterious circumstances.  He was afraid that once   
again an Immortal had turned against the Watchers who had   
remained anonymous for so many centuries.    
  
It had happened before, as, in the electronic age, watching and   
tracking became easier, but Immortals became more wary.  No   
longer could an Immortal simply pick a name and start a new   
life with ease--records had to be manufactured, backgrounds   
impervious to computer checks created.  So Immortals had   
become more conscious of Watchers, and more fearful.   
   
The office door before him opened to reveal a pleasantly    
attractive woman.  Though she was garbed in a less-than-   
flattering lab coat, a tangle of enticing hair framed her soft,    
friendly face.  Though he urged himself to keep his mind on    
business, Joe thought wryly, 'The day I'm too tired to notice a    
beautiful woman is the day I just give it all up.'  Unfortunately,    
the expression on the woman's face changed from inquiring to    
slightly annoyed.   
   
"Only authorized personnel are supposed to be back here.  Can   
I help you?"   
   
"I'm Joe Dawson," he said, and he saw the recognition pass over    
her face.  So this was Richie's "Doc".  Well, the kid always had    
good taste in women, he would give him that.     
   
She responded with a smile, but Dawson could sense that she    
was nervous about something.  "Richie said that he had called    
you.  I'm Natalie Lambert.  I'm afraid that you still shouldn't be    
back here, though."   
   
"I wondered if you could tell me what the cause of death was.     
McKenzie worked for me, and I'd really like to know what    
happened."   
   
"It looks as if he died of exsanguination," she said reluctantly.     
Misinterpreting his puzzled expression, she continued, "Blood    
loss."   
   
Joe nodded, letting her know that he understood, and tried to    
hide his relief.  He had been afraid that McKenzie had been    
beheaded or stabbed by an Immortal.  How in the world had    
McKenzie died of exsanguination?  "I'm afraid that I don't    
follow.  Was he wounded in some way, and died of loss of    
blood?"  Maybe an Immortal had stabbed him and left him to    
die.   
   
The woman shook her head.  "No.  I'll have to do some more    
tests, but it looks as if somebody actually drained his body of    
blood."  She looked unhappy, and Dawson wondered why.   
   
"I take it that Richie identified the body?"   
   
"Actually, Mrs. McKenzie came in to formally identify him."   
   
"Lisa's here?"  Joe was surprised--since the car accident that left    
Mike with the limp, Lisa had been recuperating slowly in their    
home.  The last time that Joe had seen Mike, the Watcher had    
said that his wife was not doing very well.   
   
Natalie nodded.  "I believe that Mrs. McKenzie is still at the    
precinct."  With a glance back at the office behind her, she   
continued hurriedly, "I'll take you up there, if you like."   
   
   
*******   
   
Natalie often walked the short distance from the coroner's   
office to the precinct where Nick and Tracy worked, but given   
the cool night and Dawson's obvious weariness she had ferried   
them both over in her car.  As they crossed the parking lot, she   
tried to think of the best way to handle McKenzie's autopsy.    
She was unhappy that Richie's friend had turned up dead, but   
she was even more upset about the number of people who   
were interested in the case.  There was no way that she would   
be able to bury Mike McKenzie's cause of death in the   
anonymity of paperwork.   
   
Natalie slowed her pace a little, unconsciously trying to    
accommodate the man beside her who walked with a cane.    
She had not asked, but from his gait she could tell that he had   
two prosthetic legs.  What kind of work did he do, she   
wondered?  Dawson had said that McKenzie worked for him.    
Did Richie?  There seemed to be a lot more going on here than   
anybody wanted to admit.     
   
"Hey, Nat!"  Tracy Vetter greeted her near the entrance.  "I was   
just on my way to find Nick."  She gave Natalie's companion an   
enquiring glance.  
  
"Tracy, this is Joe Dawson, a friend of Richie's and McKenzie's    
employer."  She turned to the man beside her, "Mr. Dawson,   
this is Tracy Vetter.  She is working the case."   
   
"Call me Joe," the man said to both of them, then, to Vetter    
asked, "Do you have any leads on McKenzie's death?"   
   
The younger woman looked uncomfortable for a moment, then    
answered, "We're working on it.  We'll want to ask you a few    
questions."   
   
Dawson nodded.  "Of course.  But first, Dr. Lambert said that    
Lisa McKenzie might still be here?"   
   
"Actually, I think that she just left," Tracy said, looking around   
the parking lot as if she expected the woman to materialize   
then and there.  Instead, she and Natalie both saw Nick pull up   
in his Cadillac.  
   
"Nick!" Natalie greeted him, wondering how they were going   
to talk their way out of this mess.  She broke off, however, as   
the woman she had seen briefly earlier when she came to   
identify her husband's body actually did appear out of the   
shadows.  Lisa McKenzie moved towards them with   
frightening speed, advancing on Dawson in a fury.  
  
Nick and Tracy were at the woman's side almost immediately.    
Natalie moved to offer Dawson support, as Joe had nearly been   
pushed off-balance by the hysterical woman.  "Lisa," he was   
saying helplessly.  "Lisa, I'm sorry."   
   
"You're sorry!" Lisa McKenzie spat, trying to hit Dawson, but    
being held back by Nick.  "You damn Watchers.  I hate you all.     
You killed him."  She was a striking woman, with long dark   
hair and flashing eyes.  Grief and anger, however, had twisted   
her face into a grotesque mask.  "You'll be sorry!" she said,   
suddenly subdued.  "You'll all be sorry."  The woman shook   
Nick's hands off and melted back into the shadows as quickly   
as she had appeared.   
   
"Are you okay?" Natalie asked Dawson as Tracy moved   
towards the precinct building saying, "I'll get some help."   
  
He nodded his head.  "Yeah.  I guess she's a little upset."   
   
"Yes," Nick agreed.  "I'm Detective Knight.  What did she mean    
when she called you 'Watchers'?"   
   
Joe shrugged.  "I don't know.  Unfortunately, Lisa has been    
pretty ill since a car accident a month ago.  I guess she's not    
quite herself."   
   
Natalie could see the doubt in Nick's eyes, but his response was    
cut off by the arrival of Vachon, who gave her a half-mocking    
bow then said quietly to Nick, "I found Carmen.  But we need   
to go *quickly* to make sure that she's stays there."  Nat    
understood the implication before Nick shot her a glance.   
   
"I'll see you both later," he said as Natalie took Joe's arm and   
urged him towards the police station.  
   
"Why don't you come with me, Joe.  Richie's back over at my    
place--we'll tell Tracy that everything is okay, then I'll take you   
by there."  When she looked back to the spot where they had   
been, both Nick and Vachon were gone.   
   
 
**************** 
Chapter 6
       
       
Nick thought about the case that was unfolding before them as        
he followed Vachon through the cool night air.  The cause of       
McKenzie's death was simple enough, but why had McKenzie       
been in Toronto in the first place, and why had Richie, and       
apparently this Joe Dawson as well, been trying to find him?        
Did they know about the vampire community?  Nick could not       
tell.         
       
Thinking of the community brought him back to other pressing   
problems.  He realized abruptly how lucky he had been to have   
a friend like Natalie who could help cover up the occasional   
deaths that connected to the vampires in Toronto.  Nick had for   
centuries run with his family, LaCroix and Janette, moving   
from place to place with connections to no one.  Toronto in this   
era was different, though.  Rarely had he seen a congregation   
of vampires not bound by literal blood ties living so closely in   
the same region for an extended period of time.  Too often the     
vampires had been forced to move on, for fear of being found     
out or easy prey for occasional Hunters--mortals who     
discovered their secret and set out to destroy vampires.      
Natalie's help in keeping their secrets had aided the task of     
maintaining the community's safety.       
       
But now there were too many people asking questions, too        
much attention focused on this death.  Hopefully Carmen        
would be able to provide some answers.       
       
Vachon led him to a top floor apartment in a high-rise     
building.  Without knocking, Vachon pushed open the door     
and moved inside.  Nick had never actually met Carmen, an     
artist who had been brought across sometime in the     
sixteenth century.       
       
"Vachon, my pet!  I see that you've brought the tame vampire     
to question me--what fun!"  Carmen swirled through the room     
in a flash of color and light, her clothes a shattering blend of     
sun colors.  She lighted upon the couch, settling her long red     
hair about her like a cloud.       
       
Vachon lounged in a chair next to her, watching with        
amusement Nick's expression.  Most vampires chose to be a bit        
less...ostentatious than Carmen.  "This is Nick," Vachon        
acknowledged.       
       
"Did you leave the Raven tonight with a man named Michael        
McKenzie?" Nick began, deciding that there was little point in        
taking notes of the interview.  'Yes Captain, I interviewed the        
prime suspect in her apartment, and then she flew away.      
Like this, as a matter of fact.  Whoosh.'  Right.       
       
"McKenzie."  She rolled the name around her tongue with an     
air of distaste.  "Yes, that was his name."  She turned to Vachon,        
saying, "I know that I shouldn't have killed him so near the        
Raven.  LaCroix will be annoyed, I'm sure.  Still, he is so stuffy.      
I miss Janette--at least she knew how to have a good time."       
       
Nick grimaced at the description of LaCroix, but continued, "So        
you did kill him?  Why?"       
       
"He offered me money to bring him across!  Can you imagine?         
*Money*!"  Carmen looked outraged.  "One doesn't create        
vampires for money.  For love, for pleasure, for revenge--"       
       
Nick cut her off, not wanting to hear the catalogue of vices.         
"McKenzie wanted you to make him a vampire?  Why?"       
       
She waved a hand dismissively.  "Oh, he was nattering on     
about his work, something about wanting to live forever to     
finish it."  She paused for a moment, her expression growing     
thoughtful.  "As an artist, of course, I can sympathize with     
wanting to continue the creative process.  But still, he was an     
annoying, clumsy man."  She grinned, her eyes darkening.      
"Tasty though."       
       
Nick sighed.  It was time to have a serious talk with Richie and        
Joe Dawson.       
       
       
******       
       
Natalie pushed open the door to her apartment, and saw Richie        
lounging on her couch.  "Hey Doc!"  Spotting the figure behind        
her, Richie got up and greeted him warmth.  "Joe!  You got here        
quickly."       
       
Joe Dawson sank into a chair and nodded.  "Yeah, I left as soon        
as I got your call.  Natalie brought me over here after I saw        
McKenzie's wife."         
       
Nat thought about the confrontation between Joe and Lisa in        
the parking lot.  In the car Joe had been quiet, not wanting to        
discuss it.  Still, they had progressed from 'Dr. Lambert' to        
'Natalie', so she thought perhaps it would not hurt to ask, "Joe,        
what exactly did McKenzie do for you?  What was his job?"       

"He was a Watcher."  The hiss came from the doorway, and     
they all jumped.  Lisa McKenzie stood just inside the     
apartment, a gun trained on the three of them.       
       
Joe pulled himself out of the chair saying softly, "Lisa, don't do        
this."       
       
Lisa aimed the gun at him steadily.  "Don't make me shoot you,        
Joe."       
       
He held his hands up, trying to look non-threatening.  "Okay        
Lisa.  But let Dr. Lambert go--she's not part of this."  As he        
gestured towards Natalie, drawing Lisa's attention to the two     
of them, Nat saw Richie edging around the back of the couch,        
towards the door.       
       
"Oh, but she is part of this.  You don't know everything Joe        
Dawson.  But I do.  I have plans for both of you.  Now move        
slowly towards the door, with your hands up."       
       
As Joe and Natalie complied, McKenzie swung her gun     
directly at Richie.  "That's far enough, Immie.  You're not part     
of my plan."  And she fired the gun.       
       
"Richie!" Natalie screamed, trying to move towards the man        
who fell to the floor with a startled expression on his face, but        
Joe grabbed her arm and held her back.       
       
Lisa gestured towards the doorway with her gun.  "Get going,"        
she ordered.       
       
"You can't just leave him there.  He'll die!" Natalie exclaimed,        
but Lisa merely edged them closer to the door.       
       
"It's okay," Joe hissed in her ear.  "Just do as she says.  As long as        
she leaves him there, Richie will be okay."       
       
Natalie looked at him as if he too had lost his mind then,     
casting a glance back at the now obviously dead young man,     
moved through the doorway with Lisa McKenzie close behind.       
       
 
*************** 
Chapter 7
      
      
Richie came to consciousness abruptly.  He hated that--the       
blurring around the edges of his memory that always       
accompanied a "death" left him with a dull headache.  When he       
opened his eyes, he saw Nick Knight staring at him with an      
astonished expression on his face.  "Uh, hey," Richie greeted      
him.  "I hope that you didn't call the rest of the cops or      
anything."      
      
Knight watched as Richie pulled himself up off the floor, then       
said mildly, "I was just about to.  Do you want to tell me    
what's going on?"      
      
Richie put a hand to his head, trying to decide the best way to       
explain this.  "The most important thing is that Lisa McKenzie       
was just here, waving a gun around with a crazed look in her       
eyes.  She took Joe and Natalie."      
      
Nick moved his hand to indicate Richie's figure.  "And that?"      
      
"Look, I know this is going to sound really bizarre, but I'm       
immortal.  I can't be killed.  McKenzie knew that when she    
shot me, but she did it anyway to keep me from following    
them."  Richie was impressed--Knight was taking this    
remarkably calmly.      
      
Knight merely nodded, then said, "Look, I know this is going to       
sound really bizarre, but your friend McKenzie was killed by a       
vampire."      
      
"What?"  Richie stared at him, dumbfounded.  Maybe Knight       
was crazier than McKenzie.  "There's no such thing as       
vampires."  Then he jumped back as Nick flashed a very       
vampire-looking pair of fangs at him.  "Okay, who am I to say       
what is real and what isn't?"  They regarded each other for a       
moment, each digesting the new information that they had       
received.  "Now what?"      
      
"Now," Knight said, moving towards the door, "we start    
looking for Lisa McKenzie."      
      
      
******      
      
Joe Dawson awoke with a blinding headache.  'Man,' he       
thought, 'Is this how an Immortal feels when they come back    
from a death?'  After he and Natalie had gotten into Lisa    
McKenzie's car, she had slugged them both with something,    
knocking them unconscious.  He shook his head to clear it, then    
took note of his surroundings.  He was in a small, windowless    
room, the only light coming from a crack underneath the heavy    
door.  There was no furniture in the room, no furnishings of    
any kind.      
      
Natalie Lambert lay propped against the opposite wall, her    
eyes closed.  Dawson pulled himself over to her, and took her    
hand to check her pulse.  The hand tightened on his own, and    
in the dim light he saw that her eyes were open now, a single    
tear of pain and frustration collected at the edges.  "Why did    
she just shoot Richie like that?"        
      
The accusation in her tone stung him.  "Look, I know this is       
going to sound weird, but I promise you that the kid is okay.        
Shooting him doesn't hurt him."      
      
"He was dead!" she insisted.      
      
"He just seemed to be dead."  He sighed.  "Richie is an    
Immortal.  The only way that he can be killed is if somebody    
cuts off his head."      
      
"Immortal?  You mean that he can live forever?"      
      
He nodded his head, then pulled himself into a sitting position      
next to her, leaning against the wall for support.  She was    
taking this remarkably well.  Joe remembered Duncan telling    
him that the only way most people believed the story was if    
they actually saw one die and "wake up" from it.  Joe    
unbuttoned his cuff sleeve and rolled it back, revealing the    
tattoo which marked his wrist.  "You see this?  It's the mark of a    
Watcher.  We've been keeping tabs on Immortals for centuries."      
      
She rubbed her hand over the tattoo which was barely visible    
in the half-light, and nodded.  "McKenzie had one just like that.     
He was a...Watcher, too?"      
      
"Yeah.  He worked for me.  A few days ago he disappeared,    
and I heard that he was heading here, to Toronto.  I asked    
Richie to try and find him."      
      
Joe's story was cut off by movement outside the room.  The       
heavy door swung open to reveal Lisa McKenzie, still carrying    
a gun.      
      
"Lisa," Joe said soothingly, "what are you doing?  Let us go."      
      
McKenzie shook her head determinedly.  "I can't," she said.  "I       
need you both."      
      
"But why?" Nat asked, curious.  Joe wondered the same thing.       
Revenge against him personally for some reason, that he could      
understand.  But why had Lisa insisted on bringing Natalie as      
well?      
      
"Because you are mortal.  Because you can both die."  The    
words chilled him,  but Lisa continued.  "Because you both    
have friends who can't die."  Her feverish gaze settled on Nat.     
"I saw them in the parking lot.  I saw the vampires disappear    
into the sky."  Her expression grew sorrowful, her face filled    
with torment.  "Mike wanted to become immortal so that he    
could watch forever."        
      
Joe took in a breath sharply, dawning comprehension on his      
face.  Things were starting to make sense to him, at last.  Lisa's      
final words, however, offered him little hope.  "I want to      
become immortal so that I can kill them all.  And you'll stay      
here until I get what I want."  With that, she left them again,      
slamming the heavy door shut behind her.      
      
Joe looked steadily at Nat, whose face was clouded.  "I think       
that you have some things to explain to me, too."      
      
 
**************** 


Chapter 8
    
    
"So McKenzie must have heard from someone that the Raven     
was a good place to meet vampires," Nick mused as he and     
Richie approached the precinct.  "I suppose that he was lucky,    
in a way.  Somebody might have actually given him what he     
wanted."    
    
Richie snorted.  Nick glared at him, but he merely shrugged.      
"Hey, I've always wondered why Watchers do what they do.  I     
didn't have a choice about becoming an Immortal--I just am.      
But Watchers know that they are tracking somebody who has     
lived longer than they, and will be around long after they're   
gone.  I'm not surprised that more of them don't go a  little   
crazy."    
    
Nick thought about Natalie, and Tracy, who knew that Vachon     
was a vampire.  Did it eat away at them, knowing that their     
friends would probably outlive them?  Nick thought with    
regret that it was too late to undo the damage for Nat--if they    
did not find a cure, a way to bring him back across, he would    
have to leave her someday too.  Could he watch her grow old?     
Could he watch her die?    
    
"Did you have a choice?"  Richie's question interrupted his     
reverie.    
    
He knew that the boy--Immortal or not, he was still several     
centuries younger than Nick himself--was referring to the    
point at which he became a vampire.  "Yes," he said slowly, "I    
suppose that I did, in a way."  He thought of Janette, enticing    
and seductive.  He thought about his own doubts, his     
disenchantment with his life, his loss of faith.  He remembered     
LaCroix's burning eyes.    
    
"Well I didn't," Richie continued.  "Sure, I probably would have   
broken my neck at some point on my motorcycle, and that   
would have done the trick.  But instead I was shot by a punk   
for no reason.  And Tessa--my friend--she was shot too.  But   
she didn't wake up.  She was just a normal human being, in    
the wrong place at the wrong time."    
    
Nick thought about Alyssa, his pretty, unsuspecting wife.  She     
had not awakened either.  Would Nat, if he took her blood?    
    
Richie stopped for a moment as they entered the police station.      
"Does Tracy know?"    
    
Nick shook his head.  "No.  Let's keep it that way."    
    
    
******    
    
"Did you already know about vampires?"  Nat shifted a little,     
trying to find a comfortable position against the bare wall and     
hard floor, and heard, rather than saw, Joe shake his head.  The     
thin slice of light which had shown beneath the door had been     
extinguished, leaving them in a blanket of darkness.    
    
"I'd heard rumors," he answered from across the room.  He had     
moved back to the opposite wall, ostensibly to give her room to     
stretch out, but she knew that it was also simply to give her     
space, in more ways than one.  Telling him about Nick had    
been difficult--she had too long had to guard her speech    
against unwitting revelations.  Still, she found herself    
unwilling to hide her secrets from him, particularly after he    
had revealed his.      
    
"When you record the history of Immortals," Joe continued,     
"stories do tend to circulate.  I'm not surprised that more     
Immortals and vampires don't know each other.  I've noticed     
that Immortals have a knack for running into their own kind.      
Surprising, really, that after running into the same people for a     
few centuries, they wouldn't notice."  Nat could hear the joking     
tone, but she answered the comment seriously.    
    
"Maybe they did.  Do.  But vampires have a very closed     
community.  It's possible that Immortals have kept their secret.    
Normal people who find out are often killed."    
    
"And what about you?  Why are you still alive?"    
    
Natalie shrugged a little before she remembered that he could     
not see her.  It was a question that she herself had puzzled over     
before.  LaCroix had not killed her, yet.  Janette had not told     
the Enforcers.  Vachon had even come to her for help when     
Screed was sick.  "Very few people--vampires--know that I    
exist, I guess.  Those that do keep quiet, or protect me."    
    
"Like Nick Knight?"    
    
"Yes," she acknowledged.  "Like Nick."    
    
He was quiet for a moment.  In the darkness she could not see     
his face, so she was not expecting his next question.  "Do you     
still love him?" he asked.    
    
She was startled, and she knew that he could hear it in her    
sharp intake of breath.  She could almost hear him shrug.     
"After years of watching people, you get pretty good at    
observation.  Besides, it makes sense.  You've been covering up    
for his kind, haven't you?"    
    
"Yes, I have been covering up for him.  For them.  And I don't     
know if I love him anymore."  She tried to change the subject.      
"So how many times has Richie 'died'?"    
    
"Not very many times.  He's still young--very young, for an     
Immortal.  Besides, he takes pretty good care of himself.  He     
could be around for a long time, if you want him to be."    
    
She caught the underlying questions easily, and chuckled.     
"You don't think that Richie and I...?  Immortal or not, he's still    
a bit young."    
    
"Sorry."  He sounded sheepish.  "When you answered the    
phone, I jumped to the wrong conclusion."    
    
"He spent the night.  Or rather the morning.  On the couch."      
Natalie was not sure why she was explaining it to him, or for     
that matter, why she continued, "Richard was my brother's     
name.  He died, and I got Nick to bring him across.  It was a     
mistake."  The pain still cut her deeply, framed against a dull     
backdrop of regret for all of them--her dead brother, Nick,     
herself--and their hopes.      
    
"I'm sorry," Joe said simply, apologizing for an episode of    
which he had no knowledge, an event which he had never    
seen.  Still, she found it comforting.  It had been too long since    
she had a chance to talk to somebody about Richard, about    
Nick, all of them.  It had been too long since she had really    
talked to another human being.  The thought saddened her.    
    
"Joe?"    
    
"Hm?"    
    
"I'm glad that you're here."    
 
 
***************** 
Chapter 9
    
    
"It's been too long," Tracy said in frustration.  "She could be     
anywhere by now, with Dawson and Natalie."    
    
"Or she could have killed them already," Captain Joe Reese said     
morosely as he stood at the water cooler.      
    
Tracy and Nick both looked at him in surprise.  "That not like     
you, Captain," Nick said.      
    
"I don't like this Nick, not one bit," Reese snapped.  "The    
victim's wife walks out of here and calmly kidnaps our coroner    
and her husband's employer.  Somebody slipped up.  Where    
was Mrs. McKenzie when her husband was murdered?"    
    
Tracy looked through her notes from the interview with Lisa     
McKenzie.  "She claims that she was in their hotel room,    
waiting for husband to call."    
    
"And we let her out of here without double-checking?  Damn     
sloppy."  Reese pointed an accusing finger at Nick.  "Get out     
there and find them."    
    
Nick nodded grimly.  "I will, Captain."    
    
Reese looked at his expression and nodded.  He did not envy    
the woman when Nick found her, not one bit.    
    
    
******    
    

"I wonder what time it is."  Natalie's voice startled Joe, who had     
been drowsing in the warm, dark room.  He looked at his    
watch reflexively, but of course he could not see it.  "I knew    
that I should have bought the glow in the dark watch.     
Morning, I guess.  A few hours after sunrise?"    
    
"You know, I've gotten used to telling time by sunset and     
sunrise."  He heard the torrent of unspoken words behind the     
statement, and sympathized.  It was painful, sometimes, sitting     
on the edge of a world of Immortality, watching as it passed    
you by.  He'd had his moments when he longed to forget it all,    
to be a normal guy, with a normal wife, normal kids, a home.     
A life.    
    
As if echoing his thoughts, she asked, "Have you ever been     
married, Joe?"    
    
"No."  He thought back across the years.  "There was a girl,     
before I went to Nam.  We might have gotten married.  But I     
came back like this."  He knocked his hand against one of the     
prosthetic legs, hearing the hollow echo where there should     
have been a meaty slap.    
    
"Did you lose both of them in the war?"    
    
"Yeah.  Got too close to a mine.  I thought I was dead.  A friend     
of mine--an Immortal, it turned out--saved me.  That's how I     
became a Watcher--*his* Watcher recruited me."    
    
"It must be nice to have real friends like that, even though they     
are Immortal."  She sounded wistful.    
    
Joe thought about Andrew Cord, the man who had saved him.      
Duncan had taken his head.  Not before Cord killed Charlie     
DeSalvo, though.  "It's painful," he said, without thinking.    
    
He heard her sigh.  "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of."    
    
"Try to get some sleep," he said softly.    
    
    
******    
    

Sometime later Natalie awoke, her arms cramped where she     
had pillowed her head upon them.  She tried to think what had     
awakened her, but the room was quiet, apart from the gentle     
breathing of the man across from her.    
    
There.  She heard it again.  Somebody was moving behind the     
door.  "Help!" she shouted.  Nick must have found them.      
"Help!"  Her second cry was joined by Joe, who had also heard     
the scuffling behind the door.    
    
The door opened, just a small bit, and Natalie got up    
unsteadily, trying to move towards it on legs that had been in    
the same position for too long.  Her hopes were shattered,    
however, when she saw Lisa McKenzie staring at her, wild-   
eyed.  "Tonight," McKenzie intoned.  "Tonight I'll get what I    
want.  Or you'll both rot here."    
    
"Wait!  Can we at least have some food?"    
    
The woman shoved something into Nat's hands, then closed    
the door wordlessly.  It was not food, however.      
    
"Great," she muttered.  "Our own little taste of history."    
    
"What is it?" Joe asked from behind her.    
    
"A chamberpot."    
    
"Thank goodness for small comforts.  I was dreaming about     
waterfalls, and lakes, and rivers...."    
    
She chuckled.    
    
 
***************** 
Chapter 10
    
    
Nick parked his car in front of the Raven with an abruptness     
that would have made him wince at the grinding of the breaks     
had he been less distracted.  Over twenty-four hours had    
passed since Lisa McKenzie had taken Joe Dawson and Natalie,    
and they were no closer to finding any of them.  Tracy was    
back at the hotel where the McKenzies had been staying,    
looking for some clue as to Lisa's whereabouts.  Nick had    
returned to the Raven, hoping that Lisa would seek out the last    
place where her husband had been seen alive.    
    
"My dear Detective Knight--any luck in finding your missing     
friends?"  Carmen had appeared next to his car, her bright red     
dress contrasting shockingly with Vachon's habitual black garb.      
The younger male vampire stood in the shadows behind     
Carmen, away from the range of her extravagant gestures, but     
giving her a tolerant smile.    
    
"What are you doing here?" Nick asked wearily.    
    
"Tracy told us what happened," Vachon began, but Carmen     
interjected.    
    
"I am sorry, my dear Nicholas.  I cannot help but feel     
responsible for your friend's predicament.  Still, how was I to     
know that the silly human would have a mad wife?  It's     
so...gothic!"  She flung out her arm in a gesture of contempt.      
"Anyway, I have persuaded Vachon to help me search for your     
friend."    
    
Nick glared at Vachon, who merely shrugged, but further     
comment was cut off by the ringing of Nick's cellular phone.    
    
"Knight," he answered.    
    
"Vampire."  Nick was struck with dread and anticipation--he     
recognized Lisa McKenzie's voice from her confrontation with     
Dawson at the police station.      
    
"What do you want McKenzie?" he growled.  How did she     
know that he was a vampire?  Had Nat told her?    
    
"I want you, Vampire.  I want you to make me one of your     
kind."    
    
Was he surprised?  Not really.  Still, it was worse than he had     
feared.  "It won't do any good.  Your husband is gone.  Nothing     
can change that."    
    
"I know that, Vampire," she spat.  "I can't bring him back.  I can     
avenge him, though."    
    
"Why shouldn't I just kill you?"  His tone was low, dangerous.    
    
"Because then your friends will die.  You won't ever find them,     
and they'll starve to death."    
    
He was silent for a moment, thinking.  "What do you want to     
do?"    
    
"Meet me in Room 125 of the Ridge Motel in an hour.  Come     
alone.  If you don't, I'll know, and I'll leave your friends to die."    
    
The words sounded hollow to his ears.  "I'll be there."    
    
He hung up the phone and looked at his two companions     
grimly.  They had heard every word, naturally.  "Great," Nick     
muttered.  "Just great."    
    
    
*****    
    
"Popcorn.  With lots of butter."  Why on earth were they talking     
about food, tormenting themselves?  Natalie knew that they     
could survive for some time without food, but that had not     
made the rumblings of their stomachs any easier to bear.  She     
did not even want to think about how long they would last     
without water.    
    
"Real butter?"    
    
"Oh yeah.  And salt sometimes too."    
    
"Gee Doc, you'd think a coroner would know better."  Beside     
her, Joe's tone was amused but raspy.  She had moved across    
the room to sit next to him, so that they would not have to tax    
their voices any more than necessary.  Never had she missed    
the terrible sludge they passed off as coffee in the morgue    
more.    
    
She laughed suddenly, Joe's comment triggering a memory.      
"What?" he asked.    
    
"Richie started calling me 'Doc' after I told him that I was a     
coroner.  He said he was going to make me his personal     
physician."    
    
Joe chuckled.  They sat in companionable silence, for a    
moment.  "Why did you become a coroner?"    
    
"We can't all be Watchers," she answered glibly.    
    
"True.  We're a select group."  He didn't push her, but she     
answered anyway.    
    
"I had a lousy bedside manner."  It sounded trite, but it was     
more true than she normally cared to admit.  "I was a good     
scientist, a good doctor.  But I never got along that well with     
people.  Even when I was growing up...." she trailed off,     
unwilling to dredge up the memories of childhood.  How    
many times had she considered inviting a schoolmate home,    
only to fear the close contact, the prying eyes that would see    
beyond her grandmother's kind exterior to hear her harsh    
words?  How many times had she heard the same biting,    
devastating tone coming from her own mouth?  "...I didn't have    
a lot of friends.  When it came time to choose my specialty--I    
went into forensic medicine.  And wound up here."  Literally,    
she thought.  'If I hadn't become a coroner, I wouldn't have met    
Nick.  If I hadn't met Nick, I wouldn't have ended up here.'      
    
"Do you regret it?"  Was he reading her mind, or her tone?    
    
"No," she said softly.  "I don't regret it.  Not any of it."    
    
"Good," he said, surprising her.  "Life's too short for regrets."    
    
She thought about that for a long time in the dark.   
 
 
******************* 
Chapter 11
    
    
"You can't be serious.  She wants to become a vampire so she    
can kill Immortals?"  Richie stared at Nick in astonishment.     

"You aren't going to do it, are you?"  He looked at Nick's face,    
seeing the indecision written there.  "You aren't, are you?"    
    
"I don't know," Nick snapped, repressing the vampiric taint to     
his frustration and worry.  "I have to meet her."    
    
"You're a vampire.  Can't you hypnotize her, or something?      
Can't you force her to tell you where Joe and Natalie are?"      
Richie paced the length of Natalie's living room, and Nick saw     
the anger in him.  There was nothing the Immortal could do,     
however.  This was up to Nick.    
    
"I can try to hypnotize her, but it might not work.  Some people     
are resistors--they can't be hypnotized."    
    
"So what are you going to do?" he demanded again.    
    
Nick looked to the window, preparing to take to the sky.  He     
needed time to think.  "I don't know yet."    
    
    
******    
    
"It's a bit of a cliche, isn't it?" Nat whispered, trying to save her     
voice.      
    
"What's that?" Joe asked.    
    
"The girl being kidnapped, held hostage.  I feel like the bit     
player on some campy tv show."  She tried to make it a joke,    
but was afraid that her fears were evident in her voice.  In the    
first few hours, sitting in the dark had reminded her of nights    
spent with Richard in one or the other's bedroom, talking long    
into the night, or simply taking comfort in the presence of the    
other.  What if Lisa did not come back, though?  What if Nick    
did not find them?  How long would they survive?    
    
"What about me?" Joe demanded softly, jokingly, pulling her     
back to the here and now.    
    
"You're the innocent bystander.  If you were on Star Trek you'd     
be wearing a red shirt."    
    
As he laughed, his arm tightened around her shoulder.  It was     
not cold in the room, but the human contact was comforting.    
    
"I've lived a long time without getting eaten by some alien     
hiding behind a rock," he said.    
    
"It's lonely though, isn't it?"  She had not meant to say it aloud,     
not intending to break his cheerful demeanor.  For some   
reason, though, she needed to hear him admit that he felt the   
same way that she sometimes did.    
    
He had told her about Charlie DeSalvo, and Lauren.  They were     
innocent bystanders.  They had not known what they were     
getting into.  "Yes," he agreed.  "It is lonely.  But I made    
choices."    
    
"We all do.  That doesn't mean that you have to live with them     
for the rest of your life."  She could tell that he was surprised by     
her words.  To be honest, she was as well.    
    
    
******    
    
'Consent freely given.'  LaCroix's sardonic tone echoed in his     
mind, as it often did.  Nick could certainly argue that Lisa     
McKenzie had given her consent, freely and unequivocally.  He     
sat on the rooftop his building, trying to think of a way out of     
this mess.    
    
Could he let somebody blackmail him into making them a     
vampire?  Maybe, if he really wanted to.  But what about the     
consequences?  McKenzie's goal was to live forever, to become     
strong so that she could fight Richie's kind, and kill them.  Nick     
did not know any other Immortals.  At least, he did not think    
so.  Would they be able to deal with a homicidal vampire?    
    
"It is a lovely night for hunting, Nicholas," Lucien LaCroix    
spoke with a whisper into his ear by way of greeting.  He had    
appeared so suddenly that Nick was afraid that he had    
conjured him up from memory somehow, but--for better or    
worse--it was the real man.    
    
"What do you want, LaCroix," he asked tiredly.  His master     
always managed to batter Nick when his defenses were at their     
lowest.  LaCroix cocked his pale head to one side, his dark eyes     
shining with amusement.    
    
"I thought you might need someone to talk to.  I understand     
that you have a bit of a...quandary."    
    
Nick could hear the elder vampire rolling the word around his     
tongue, relishing its implications.  "How do you know?"    
    
"My dear Nicholas, I know everything, naturally."  When     
Nicholas snorted at the comment, LaCroix continued off-    
handedly, "Carmen is not known for her discreetness.  I'm sure     
that half of the patrons of the Raven--at least those with good     
ears, if you understand my meaning--know of the    
predicament."  He rested his hand on his chin as he sat next to    
Nick.  "She did, by the way, apologize for the disturbance at the    
Raven.  I gave her a bottle of our best for a job well done."    
    
Nick sighed.  "Go away LaCroix.  I don't need your 'help'."    
    
"Even if your Natalie's life is at stake?" he asked with feigned     
innocence.    
    
"Especially if Natalie's life is at stake," Nick shouted, knowing     
that LaCroix was trying to goad him, and regretting his    
response immediately.  It did not matter--LaCroix was already    
gone.    
    
His voice still echoed in Nick's head, though.  'Consent freely     
given.'  What would Nat say?  That was ludicrous--he knew     
what Nat would say.  Or did he?     
   
She had remained withdrawn since Janette had left town    
again.  They both acknowledged what Nick had done.  Nick    
thought it just as well that Janette had left--both women had    
been mad at him.  Imagine what a formidable team they would    
have made together against him!    
    
The vision brought a smile to his face, but it faded quickly.      
What would Nat say?  Would she see a refusal as merely     
another sign of callousness, of his disregard for her?  Is that    
what a refusal would mean?     
    
He realized abruptly that it was time to meet Lisa McKenzie.      
Time to make a choice.    
    
    
**************** 
Chapter 12


Joe considered moving his arm from underneath Natalie's    
head, but did not.  It was asleep, and would hurt like hell after    
a while, but he did not want to disturb her.  She lay with her    
head cradled in his lap.  He could feel her long, fine hair    
against his fingers, and resisted the urge to run his hands    
through it.    
  
'What a stupid way to die,' he thought dully.  It had    
been too long since Lisa had left them.  The end of Lisa's quest--   
one way or another--had to have occurred by now.  The fact    
that he and Nat were still sitting in this dark room undisturbed    
left him little room for hope.    
    
"Joe, why did McKenzie do it?"  He'd hoped she was asleep.      
    
"I don't know," he said slowly, both trying to formulate an     
answer and to extend their conversation.  As the darkness seem     
to settle heavily upon them, he appreciated her company more.      
"Some Watchers become attached to 'their' Immortal."  He     
thought about Duncan McLeod, and their friendship, often a     
somewhat uneasy alliance.  Some Watchers grew too close to     
their subjects; that was one of the reasons Watchers rotated     
assignments.  Still, he had seen Watchers torn up by the death    
of an Immortal, a man or a woman that they had never truly    
met, or talked to.  He himself had broken the cardinal rule of     
watching, of course--never get involved.    
    
He returned his thoughts to Mike McKenzie.  "That car    
accident that Mike and Lisa were in really shook them up.     
They were very lucky not to be killed."  He had told Mike to    
take more time off, but McKenzie had insisted on returning to    
work.  He did not want to miss anything, he said.  But there    
had been more.  "A taste of mortality," he murmured.    
    
Natalie shifted position, taking the pressure off of his arm.  He     
flexed it slowly as she said "You aren't supposed to get involved     
with them, are you?"  She was perceptive.  He also heard the     
shared sympathy in her voice.    
    
"No," he answered quietly.    
    
"But you did.  Richie is your friend.  This Duncan that he     
mentioned--he's your friend too, right?"    
    
"Yes."    
    
"How do you feel about that?"    
    
He was silent again, trying to collect his thoughts and preserve     
his ability to talk.  Finally he said, "I used to envy Immortals."      
He shifted his legs a little.  "Particularly when I was feeling     
very...human."  He could feel her nod.  "I don't anymore.  They     
see too much death, they watch those that they love grow old,     
or, if they have other Immortal friends, be killed.  They see too     
much loss.  They have to constantly rebuild their lives, to start     
over and over."  He trailed off, his throat too dry to continue,    
his thoughts too bittersweet.    
    
She finished the idea for him, though.  "It's hard enough to     
live one life sometimes, isn't it?"    
    
"Yeah," he said softly into the darkness.  "It is."    
    
    
******    
    
Tracy Vetter approached the hotel room door cautiously,    
uncertain what to expect.  She had gotten a tip that a woman    
matching Lisa McKenzie's description had been seen at this    
hotel, registered in this room.  She knew that Captain Reese    
would give her hell for not calling for back-up, but she did not    
care.      
    
Nick was nowhere to be found, as usual, but this time Tracy    
was not annoyed.  Since Vachon had taken her to Mike    
McKenzie's body in the alley near the Raven, so obviously    
victim to a vampire that she had been surprised that Natalie as    
coroner had not made a big deal out of the cause of death, she    
had not been sure what was going on.  Obviously Lisa    
McKenzie had not killed her husband--some vampire had.     
Unless McKenzie herself was the vampire?    
    
The questions just went around in circles.  So Tracy was glad,    
for the time being, that her partner was not here to ask    
awkward questions, like why she was standing outside a hotel    
room door with her gun in one hand and small crucifix    
necklace that she had kept in her car for just such an occasion    
clutched in the other.    
    
"Mrs. McKenzie?" Tracy called.  "This is the police--please open     
up."  She did not hear any movement inside the room, and     
tapped on the door with her gun.  "Mrs. McKenzie?"    
    
The pressure pushed the door open easily--it had not been shut     
all the way.  "Mrs. McKenzie?"    
    
Once she was inside, Tracy knew that she would not find Lisa     
McKenzie here.  Not alive, anyway.  The room was a complete     
shambles, as if there had been a terrible struggle.  Tracy's heart     
sank as she saw the bed.  Spread across the ugly print of the     
cheap bedcover was the stain of dried blood.    
    
 
**************** 
Chapter 13
    
    
Her head hurt.  Her stomach had stopped hurting for the time     
being, but the headache really irritated her.  An aspirin would     
be nice.  And a big glass of water to wash it down.  A huge    
glass of water to wash it down.  Hell, forget the aspirin--just    
bring a bathtub.    
    
"A shower would be really nice right now," said a voice,   
echoing her own thoughts.  "And a shave--I think my stubble is     
threatening to take over my beard."    
  
She jumped a little when he spoke.  For some reason she had   
been expecting LaCroix's voice.  It was silly, but she had been   
thinking about the number of times she had sat in the dark at   
home, listening to LaCroix on the radio as the Nightcrawler.    
Natalie could not explain why she listened.  Know your   
enemy?  Try to understand the object of Nick's hatred?  Try to   
hate him?  Try not to?    
    
"Hey, are you still with me?"  Joe's voice brought her back, and     
she squeezed his hand.  She pushed aside the memory of   
LaCroix's voice, concentrating instead on Joe's low, comfortable   
rumble, still raspy, but reassuring.      
    
"Yeah," she said.  "Sorry.  I was just daydreaming.    

Nightdreaming.  Whatever."  She guessed that it had been at   
least another twenty-four hours since they had last seen Lisa   
McKenzie.  Another sunrise, another sunset.    
    
Another day lost.  How many left?    
    
"Don't tell me that we've run out of deep thoughts, and now     
we'll have to play mental chess," he said.  Some instinct pushed   
her to put her fingers to his chapped lips, like a searching blind   
child, to feel the smile there.  He grabbed her hand and pressed   
it closer to his lips, then lay her palm against his rough cheek.    
She knew that he had given up hope too.      
    
"No," she put his other hand to her head and let him feel her     
shake it.  "I'm terrible at chess."  His fingers were twined in her     
hair then, and she enjoyed the sensation.  "Monopoly--that I'm     
good at."    
    
"Monopoly, hmm?"  He traced his fingers along the back of her     
hand, sketching its outline, feeling the fingertips rough-hewn     
by work.  "Okay, I rolled a ten.  I'm just visiting at the jail."    
    
She half-laughed, but it caught in her throat.  The end had   
come too fast.  It was so damned frustrating.  
    
Then they heard a sound outside the door.  Someone was     
fumbling at the lock.  Natalie tensed, but knew that she could     
put up little defense in her weakened state to whomever might     
be on the other side.    
    
The door opened, revealing only darkness.  But a lighter, more     
welcoming darkness.  And, barely discernible, a figure.    
    
For a moment Nat wondered if she were delirious.  She pulled   
back as Lisa McKenzie entered the room.  Joe put his arm   
around her protectively, trying unsuccessfully to shield her   
with his body.  "Have you come to gloat?" he rasped.    
    
Lisa stood over them triumphantly.  Natalie gripped Joe's     
shoulder--she recognized the aura, the stance.  "She got her     
wish," she hissed.  What had Nick done?    
    
"Yes," Lisa acknowledged.  "I got my wish.  Not quite what I     
expected, but...."  She shrugged, then looked at them,   
examining their state dispassionately.    
    
"Just finish it," Natalie said quietly, her free hand clenched, but     
Lisa raised a finger warningly.    
    
"Be patient, Dr. Lambert.  Your time will come.  But not right     
now."    
    
"You aren't going to kill us?" Joe asked, disbelieving.    
    
Lisa glared at both of them, but it was tinged with self-content.      
"No," she said softly.  "Your ends will come soon enough.  I   
want to you live.  Live your mortal lives, and watch your   
immortal friends die."  She waved a hand in the direction of the   
door, in the slight gesture dismissing their entire experience.    
"Goodbye."  She disappeared silently, of course.  
    
After she had gone, they sat next to each other, both looking    
numbly at the open doorway beckoning before them.     
Suddenly, Natalie felt immeasurably tired.      
    
Joe pulled her arm.  "Come on," he encouraged her.  "Let's go   
live our mortal lives like the lady said."    
    
   
*******   
   
"Hey Nat, are you okay?"  Tracy Vetter entered the hospital    
room tentatively.     
   
Natalie nodded, gesturing for Tracy to sit next to her on the   
bed where she had been resting.  "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just   
dehydrated.  They want to keep us around for observation, I   
think."  Natalie did not mention the fact that she had not   
pressed the hospital staff to release her quickly; it was almost   
sunrise, and if she delayed long enough then she would not   
have to face Nick.  She did not think that she could deal with   
him right now.   
   
"Well, I think after a shower I'll be okay," a new voice said    
cheerfully from the doorway.  Joe Dawson stood there, leaning    
heavily on a cane provided by the hospital staff.  Tracy eyed    
them both skeptically, taking in their gaunt figures and    
exhausted faces.    
   
"Yeah, I think a shower would be a great idea," Nat agreed    
solemnly, but she knew that Joe caught the glint in her eyes.   
   
"Hey, are you insinuating something about my personal    
hygiene?" he complained plaintively.   
   
She raised an eyebrow.  "How do you know that I wasn't    
offering to scrub your back?"   
   
Tracy laughed.  "I can see that you guys are going to be fine."     
She stood up from the door and gave them both a parting    
wave.  "I'm going to go find Richie before he chats up anymore    
nurses.  Get some rest."   
   
"We will," Nat agreed, and then she was gone.  Natalie sat still    
on the bed and watched Joe, who still stood--a little awkwardly    
now--just inside the doorway.  It was odd to actually be able to    
see him, rather than relying on her hearing to catch inflections    
in his voice, expressions on his face that had been hidden    
before.  It was odd to face him in the near daylight, after    
spending so many hours talking about personal details in the    
dark.   
   
Joe cleared his throat.  "Well, I guess we can get out of here."     
   
She suddenly felt guilty for making him wait there--he was as    
exhausted as she.  "Yeah, let's go," she said, getting up carefully    
from the bed.  She felt dizzy for a moment, and stood still for a   
moment, waiting for it to pass.     
   
She waited too long.  Nick stood in the doorway.  "Nat?" he    
asked, stepping forward.   
   
"Nick."  It was a sigh, really.     
   
Joe looked at both of them for a brief second, then moved aside    
to let Nick enter, and turned towards the door.  "I guess that I'll    
see you around Nat."   
   
"No, Joe," she stepped towards him, holding out a restraining    
hand.  "Wait."  Standing next to Joe, she turned to face Nick.     
Suddenly she felt even more tired.  "So what happened?"   
   
Nick shot a glance at Joe, and she could read the indecision    
written on his face.  "Nat," he said in that soft tone which   
normally would have sent a shiver through her spine.  "I'm   
sorry."   

"Sorry for what?" she sighed wearily.  "That you brought her    
across, or that you didn't?"   
   
Nick's eyes were hooded.  He picked the words out with care.     
"It doesn't seem to matter, does it?  Either way, I lose."   
   
Nat closed her eyes.  Maybe he was right.  "You better get    
going," she said dully.  "The sun will be up in a few minutes."   
   
With her eyes closed, she could not see him move.  She heard    
him, though.  As he brushed past her, he stopped.  In a voice    
pitched low, so that only she could hear, he said, "She was    
already gone when I got there, if that means anything to you."     
   
When she opened her eyes, he was gone.  Joe put a hand on her    
shoulder.  "You okay?"   
   
Natalie nodded.  "Let's get out of here," she said.  As they    
turned to leave, she could not help but glance out the window.     
The first tendrils of dawn shone over the horizon, creating a    
thin rainbow of light in the distance.  It was beautiful.   
    
************** 
Chapter 14
  
    
Natalie smiled in the dark as the phone rang.  "Hey, I thought    
that it was my turn to call," she answered without preamble.   
   
"Yeah, well, I was just thinking about you."  At the other end of    
the line, Joe Dawson did not sound the least contrite.  She tried    
to picture him at his home, but all she could focus on were the   
familiar, low tones of his voice.     
   
She turned on her side, propping her head on her hand,    
rearranging the pillows on the bed for more support.  She    
glanced at the clock--yep, fifteen minutes before she was    
supposed to have called him.  It had become a kind of ritual;    
they talked frequently in the late hours.   
   
"How's work?" she asked.     
   
"Oh, same old thing.  Trying to keep Watchers in line.  Trying    
to keep Richie out of trouble when Duncan is gone," he    
answered wryly.  "How about you?"   
   
"I'm working more days," she said quietly.     
   
"Are you okay?"  There were many depths to the question.   
   
"Yes," she reassured him.  After a pause, "We all are, I think."   
   
Silence lay between them for a moment.  "Nat?  Can I ask you    
something?"  His voice was half-serious, half-mischievous.  
   
"Sure," she answered easily.   
   
"Will you marry me?"  
   
In the darkness, she grinned.  "No.  Why do you ask?"  
   
She heard his chuckle.  "It seemed a very human thing    
to do."   
   
Despite their bantering tones, Natalie found herself blushing.    
"You know my deepest secrets, but I bet you don't even know    
my favorite color," she teased.   
   
"You're right."   
   
The silence was more pleasant this time.     
   
"Have you heard anything about Lisa?" she asked, trying not to    
sound too apprehensive.   
   
She could almost hear him shake his head.  "Nope, not yet.     
We'll find her soon, hopefully."   
   
She wrapped the telephone cord around her finger idly,    
breathing a sigh of relief at his lack of news.  "If you guys need    
any help, I think that you can count on it from here.  Nick    
wants to know who brought her across."   
   
"No luck finding anything out, huh?"   
   
"Nope.  But the official police interest has died down."  Natalie    
and Joe had concocted a bizarre tale to keep their secrets safe.    
They had said that a delusional Lisa McKenzie had believed   
herself to be a vampire, that she had admitted killing her    
husband because she saw him leaving the Raven with another    
woman.  Tracy had laughed nervously.  Reese had shook his    
head, muttering something about working the night shift.     
   
"I'll let you know as soon as we find out anything," Joe assured   
her.  "So, when are you going to come see me?  I    
promised to show you the nightlife here."   
   
"I hope that it is more subdued than ours," she laughed, then    
answered, "Soon.  If I keep working some days, I may even    
have a suntan by the time I get there."   
   
"You'll make Nick jealous," he joked.   
   
'I just might,' she thought.  
  
Natalie stifled a yawn, then said apologetically, "I better get   
going.  Switching shifts so much has thrown my internal clock   
off."   
   
"Okay.  Goodnight."   
   
"Goodnight, Joe."   
   
"Nat?"   
   
"Hm?"   
   
"What's your favorite color?"   
   
"Green.  Go to sleep, Joe."   
  
"G'night."  
   
She drifted off to sleep easily.   
 
 
*end*