Date: Sun, 12 Mar 1995 22:35:41 -0700 (MST) One Pretty Moment by James Walkswithwind The crash startled him. Nick looked up, and saw with horror the scattered pile of glass shards, the blood seeping quickly into the wooden slats which made up the floor. He rushed over, grabbed at the remnants of the bottle, trying to catch it up and make it be a bottle again, full of blood.. even savign a little woould be good. But the glass had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, none bigger than his thumb. He couldn't even rescue a drop, as the wood soaked it up like a hungry vampire. Nick stared in growing desperation at the lost blood. There was no way to replace it. There was no way to hide it- the blood stains would remain dispite any amount of scrubbing. Nick held his face in his hands.. he was in serious trouble. He looked up, knowing there was nothing to do but tell him. No way to hide, no way to deny it. The sooner he confessed, the sooner it would be over. He bit his lip and forced the terror down and away into a tiny part of his soul. With a courage he'd never needed in the Crusades, he walked from the room to find his master. Lacroix looked up from his chair, where he sat reading. His face was blank, as if he didn't know what had brought Nick to disturb him. he sat calmly, and waited. "I'm sorry.." Nick's voice came out shaking, and he took a deep breath and tried to steady himeslf. He knew signs of weakness or fear made it worse. In a steady voice he said quietly, "The last one is broken. We have no more blood." "Lacroix stared at him, only a hint of the anger showing. "How di it happen?" "I was cleaning the ktichen, like I'm supposed to.. and I suppose the bottle was precariously placed. I knocked into the cabinet, and it fell. It broke completely, there was no way to save any of the blood." Lacroix stared at him, obviously upset but still only staring. The menace in his eyes was becoming obvious. When Nick said nothing more, Lacroix prompted. "And what do you intend to do about it?" Nick stuttered. He felt useless, too young, barely a hundred years old and not experienced enough to know how to provide blood for his family in a city partoled by nightwatchmen and curfews. "I.. I don't.. I'm sorry, Lacroix." The rage rumbled silently beneath the surface of his words, as Lacroix stood and walked towards him. "You're sorry. that's good to hear, Nicholas. That makes everything so much better.." he threw his book down, and Nick flinched. "We have nothing to feed ourselves, and we have practically no *safe* way of obtaining blood, and you're _sorry_!" His eyes were gold, and he had come within an arm's reach of Nick. Nick said nothing, his lip trembling and the urge to flee strong. He knew better than to try it. He knew it would only be worse.. Lacroix grebbed his shirt and pulled him close. "You're sorry. Thank you so much, Nicholas. Apology accepted." His voice was tight, and hard as steel. Nick felt his heart fall to the floor, and he kept himself from crying only by sheer terror. Lacroix stared at him for a moment, then threw him to the floor. Nick caught himself with his hands, but standed where he was. He knew this, he knew how best to survive. He made no move to escape, or fight back, or prtoect himself. He only tensed, as he waited.. The sudden sting of the switch exploded on his back. he huddled on the floor, as his master beat him, whipped him with the branch of a birch tree. He bit his lip, knowing the wounds would heal, he only had to survive the pain of receiving them. he counted five, before the first cry of pain escaped his throat. He heard Lacroix's answering growl of rage, and felt a new pang of fear coarse through him. he struggled to keep silent, as the blows rained down upon him. His back, legs, and buttocks were becoming striped with blood. He wanted nothing more than to yell in fear and frustration, but all he could do to save his life was keep himself still and silent. His tears were streaming down his face, and he realised with woeful clarity that the blood he would need to replace, was no longer available. He would be weak, and hungry, until Lacroix saw fit to provide him with new blood. The desperate dependence on the monster that flailed at him was worse than the beating itself. Nick wanted to fly up, force the vampire to kill him. But he knew that somehow his master would find a way to twist it against him, hold him hostage and torture him for the attempt. Suddenly Nick realised the blows had stopped. His back and legs hurt too badly to risk moving; he remained huddled on the floor, whimpering. He listened as Lacroix left the room. He didn't dare relax, for in times past Lacroix had felt the ease of fear and submission and returned for anouther round. He stayed in a half-curled ball, and cried. He found himself wishing for the appearance of one of his old friends, a knight, who had been the bravest and strongest of all the knights he'd known. Someone who could have rescued him, prevented him from becoming this evil pitiful thing in the first place. Nick rested his head onhis arm and cried. His wounds were beginning to heal; he decided to stay where he was until they were fully healed. That would give him time to regain some strength, and Lacroix time to be over his rage. His terror didn't go away, but he managed to place it carefully in a corner of his mind, where he might not have to feel it. Soon his back was healed, and Nick crawled to his feet. He staggered through the living area and down the stairs, to his room. He felt the hunger stirring, and tried to ignore it. He would no doubt be allowed to go hungry, to teach him a lesson. Nick collapsed on his bed, and pulled the blankets over him. Staring at a wall, he let his mind go blank. An hour later Lacroix came in. Nick felt his muscles tense, and said nothing. Lacroix touched him on the shoulder, and pulled at him to roll over. Nick rolled over onto his back, and looked up. Lacroix held out a bottle. "Here, now, little one. Drink." His voice was soft, tender, almost caring. He held out a full bottle of blood. Nick sat up and took it, and began to drink. His body cried out in relief, and he found himself gulping it. Lacroix smiled, and brushed his hand against Nick's head. "Don't worry about the borken bottle, NIcholas. I'll make sure you and your sisteer are fed. Don't worry about a thing.." His voice was so full of love, and Nick felt as if he could trust Lacroix to take care of him forever. He finished the bottle and set it carefully on the floor beneath the bed. When Lacroix moved to put his arms around Nick, he leaned into the embrace. He closed his eyes, and let himself fall asleep, not wondering when the monster would return. he muttered a question as he fell asleep, and dimly heard LAcroix's reply. "Always, my son. I will always hold you.." James Kythe Walkswithwind gila@jbx.com Somewhere in the world it is naptime.