FKArchiver Note: This story may contain adult topics. From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:57:57 1996 Date: Wed, 27 Nov 1996 23:06:04 -0600 From: Carolyn Price To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (1/26) Thanks and praise to some Dark Angels without whose help this story would not be: to Lisa P. and Bill T. for helping me remember the past; to Ron K. for background information, for being my beta reader, and putting up with my "annoying" ways; and to JamieMR for teaching me the right way to post (I hope I make you proud; i.e. I hope I don't screw up.). Thanks to Fred Mollin and GNP Crescendo for the music (hard to get the write mood without it). SOME OF THE SEGS ARE REALLY BIG FILES. PLEASE LET ME KNOW -- e-mail privately -- RIGHT AWAY IF YOUR BROWSER HAS PROBLEMS and I can chop them in half or something. Standard disclaimers: Nick, Natalie, Janette, Lacroix, and Reese belong to Jim Parriott, Barney Cohen, and I guess SonyTristar. I have only borrowed them for a short time and promise to return them tired but well-fed and undamaged. This is a Christine origins story and she belongs to me. It is definitely a LaCroix love story and perhaps a bit of a Nick the cop story, as well. Takes place after Last Knight with feeble attempts to explain how Nick and Nat got out of that one alive. Includes: gratuitous *French* (without the proper accent marks and cedillas, which I don't know how to do on e-mail. ;-) *Pour commencer*... [To begin ...] + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 *Chapitre* [Chapter] 1 She didn't like it. None of it. Not one bit. Everything was wrong about it. Even the smell in the air. Fear. That was it! She was scared out of her mind. But Randy's fear excited him. The adrenaline rush was just another "drug" to him. How had she ever come to this? How had she gotten in so deep? She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, the Beretta within easy reach, while Randy paced the floor like an impatient bridegroom. This was the part she was convinced that Randy lived for. He couldn't have chosen a better "business" for putting himself on the edge, dancing with death, as he called it. He had been dealing in drugs since high school, and he didn't care what anyone thought about it. He lived for the danger of the deal, the big buy or the big sell, when he would meet the big boys and make like a little mouse roaring. He never thought about little kids dying of overdoses, of crack babies or heroin babies screaming through agonizing withdrawal pains. He was always looking for the big score, and he hoped tonight would be the one. Slap. Slap. Slap. Randy kept time to his pacing by whipping the Glock against the palm of his hand. She knew he was going over every detail in his mind. Every contingency. He had been talking about it for days. She was amazed at how someone who was usually so strung out on Pills or Blow could formulate enough of a plan for a drug deal of this magnitude. And she was one of his contingencies: his partner had gotten himself arrested for DUI last night, so here she was to back him up. She hadn't wanted to do it, but he had "convinced" her, and none too gently. She had the bruises to show for it. "Here's the deal, Christine," he had told her. "You hide in the closet with the Beretta and cover my back, just in case." The closet door had wooden louvers, the kind where she could see out but no one could see in. That was one reason he said he always chose this flop for his "business meetings." That and the fact that if anything went wrong, nobody would notice the gunfire. Not in this neighborhood. People down here had a full time job just staying alive. And if this deal went wrong, there would be a blood bath tonight. A quarter of a million dollars worth of pure China white. Christine didn't even want to think about where he had gotten the stuff. He had never done a deal this huge, and she had never ever done anything like this before. She was scared shitless. If they all came out of this alive it would be a miracle. She couldn't imagine how she had been so stupid, how she had agreed to this. This was big. This was really scary. This wasn't fun any more. She could have walked away. Randy didn't own her, after all. And he certainly didn't make her life a paradise. The sad fact was that she was here tonight because she was scared of him. Scared to leave him and scared to stay. Scared to be on her own. Scared to start over again, and tired of starting over again and again. She had met Randy just a few months ago and thought he was fun and exciting. She knew he smoked a little pot or rock and he occasionally did some blow, but it was nothing she hadn't seen before. Her mother did all that stuff, even the needles, and Christine hated her for it. Not only the dope, but what she did to get the dope. And sometimes, what she had made Christine do. Randy suddenly stopped pacing and stood still as a statue. Christine could hear footsteps outside in the hallway. Without a word, Randy got her up off the bed, handed her the Beretta and pushed her into the closet. He pressed his index finger to his lips in a gesture for her to be quiet, then he shut the closet door. From inside the closet, Christine could see that he slipped the Glock into the back waist of his pants as he walked to the door. *()*()*()*() Detective Nicholas Knight leaned against the wall in the interrogation room at the 96th precinct while the other guys either sat or smoked or milled about. He and these four other officers had been waiting for ten minutes for the guys from Special Affairs to finish briefing Captain Joe Reese on the plans for the drug bust they hoped would go down tonight. SA had been tracking drug traffic into Toronto for the last year and they were certain they had the names of all the major players. An informant plea-bargaining his way off a DUI charge had told them that tonight would be the night when all their evidence and suspects would be in one place at one time, and SA intended to do everything possible to haul in all the fish, both big and small. Waiting was not a new experience for Nick, but it was one which he found distasteful nevertheless. Especially now. Idle time gave him too much opportunity to think about the recent loss of his partner, Tracy Vetter. Internal Affairs had found him without blame in her death, but he could not forgive himself. If only he had tried harder and been able to control Dawkins, the escaped inmate who had gone berserk in the precinct, taken an officer's sidearm, and holed up in the locker room. Nick knew the guy, had arrested him, and so he felt he had an edge in getting him to give himself up. In addition, he could use his vampiric powers if he had to, overpower the guy with his preternatural strength or mesmerize him and control his mind. He had begun to do just that when Tracy walked into Dawkins' line of vision and all hell had broken loose. Tracy had taken two bullets that night and given her life in exchange. After nearly 800 years as a vampire, Nick found this particular incarnation of himself becoming more and more difficult. He had lost two partners in the last year, and no one was willing to partner with him now. The other officers had always known there was something "different" about Knight, they just couldn't quite put it into words. And now it seemed he was a jinx as well. The unspoken message was clear: stay away if you want to live. That was all right with Nick. It had always been difficult working closely with mortals. Long hours spent together with nothing to do but wait and watch for the suspect to make a move. People talked. About their family, friends, loves, hates, their past. Idle talk to pass the time. Nick could never quite share in that. How could he talk about his mortal life that ended during the reign of the child-king, Louis IX of France, or his mortal family that had been dead as long. Or even more difficult to discuss his vampire family: his relationship with Lacroix, his Master, the one who made him; or Janette, his former sister and lover, now his "daughter". Better to play the part of The Good Listener and say he didn't have any family of his own. Just then, Reese and the guys from Special Affairs came into the room. "Okay, everybody, listen up," Reese intoned. "This is the game plan. You guys are going to observe -- that's right, I said OB-SERVE -- the suspects and provide back-up As Needed. You Will Not move in unless requested by these officers. These are Officers Morales and Patranella from Special Affairs. You will be assisting their task force tonight and we hope to bring down a major drug cartel that has been moving into this area. Officer Morales?" "Thank you, Capt. Reese," Morales began to go over the details of the impending raid. Nick was half-heartedly listening because this Morales reminded him of someone, and he was trying to remember who that was. The officer was about six feet tall, with swarthy good looks, and a little scar across one cheek. He could have easily passed for a priest or a hit man. He was just one of those exceptionally good-looking Latinos that have a face anyone could love and trust. But his eyes told tales of the horrors he had seen. Nick could relate to that. *Pas de probleme.* [No problem] And in nearly 800 years of "living", Nick often found people who Reminded Him of Someone. "Any questions?" Morales finished up his briefing. Since there were none, the officers all headed for their cars and were soon on their way to a cheap hotel in the red-light district. All five of the officers from the 96th piled into one car. Nick was uncomfortable with the crowded condition; he really didn't like being this close to mortals. He was used to driving himself in the spaciousness of his '62 Cadillac convertible, but they couldn't go in like a parade. Even though the October night was cool (nothing new for Toronto), Nick felt that he was about to break into a sweat. Luckily he was near the window, and rolled it down a little to get some air. <> he thought, <> They parked a block away from the hotel and got out of the car. They proceeded to take up their positions: on the corner, across the street, in the alley on either side of the hotel. They were all in radio contact with each other and the Special Affairs team. Nothing to do now but wait. *()*()*()*() + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Well, I hope you'll stay tuned for the other 20-some-odd parts (and believe me some are odder than others). Compliments and praise will be gratefully accepted. Flames will burn right through me -- but then after a pint or two of innocent blood, I'm sure I'll get over it. ;-) -CousinCP- From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:06 1996 Date: Wed, 27 Nov 1996 23:09:45 -0600 From: Carolyn Price To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (2/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 2 Two knocks. Then one more. <> Christine thought, slightly amused. She felt like she would start= giggling if she didn't take a deep breath and get control of herself. Randy= opened the door. Two men walked in, one short and sleazy looking, wearing a= cheap polyester suit and carrying a briefcase. He had his hair slicked back= like some kind of refugee from a Godfather movie. The other guy was BIG,= and that was an understatement. Professional-wrestler-big, Sasquatch-big,= and just about as strong-looking too. He was so beefy that he seemed to= have no neck. He was wearing a turtleneck sweater nevertheless and jeans= that looked uncomfortably tight. He could barely put his arms down because= they and his chest were so powerfully built and the sweater was so tight.= His hair, if there was any, was cropped very short. Christine really had a= bad feeling about this, now even more than before. <<"Tiny" and "Big= Mack">> Christine's thoughts dubbed them, and again she had to suppress a= giggle. They were exchanging words now, but Christine really couldn't hear. She= strained to hear them, but she began to hear a high-pitched whistling noise= in her ears. And a pounding kind of noise. She finally realized the= pounding was her heart, and she began to be afraid that she would faint.= She had never fainted before, but maybe these were some of the symptoms.= Her breathing was ragged and she felt the blood rush to her cheeks.= Suddenly she realized she had not been paying attention to the transaction= in the room and she tried to focus her attention on that. Randy had brought= out the gym bag with the dope in it and "Tiny" was checking the quality of= the drugs with a test tube and chemicals, just like you see on TV. The= briefcase was sitting on the bed, open, and Christine could see money= inside it. "Big Mack" stood by, his arms folded across his massive chest.= Seeing this scene and thinking of those ridiculous names she had created= for the thugs, Christine was once again almost overcome with the desire to= laugh out loud. This was how she handled intense terror. Potentially deadly= in this situation. "Tiny" gave a smile of approval to Randy and then he gave "Big Mack" a nod. *()*()*()*() Standing guard in the alley below, Detective Knight knew that the drug deal= was going down. He had scanned the entire building and focused his= vampire-heightened hearing in on the room where the suspects were= transacting their business. He wondered why Special Affairs had not moved= in yet. Surely they had seen their suspects enter the building? Unless= perhaps these individuals were not THE suspects, and just happened to show= up and crash the party. Anyway, if the officers didn't make a move soon,= they would miss the dance.=20 *()*()*()*() "Tiny" put away the drug-testing gear and was chatting Randy up about= coming to work for "the Big Boss". "It's tough bein' out on your own, kid,"= "Tiny" was saying. "Yeah, we got it real good. Pension plan, dental,= vacation time, the whole nine! I'm tellin' ya', workin' for the Big Boss -= it can't be beat! And I can get ya' in, man, a good word from me..." and on= and on he went. Christine thought <> = But Randy was listening, and now he had his back to "Big Mack" and the= money. Just as that happened, "Big Mack" pulled up what must have been a= false bottom to the=20briefcase, pulled out a pistol, and shot Randy in the= back of the head. In the alley below, Nick heard the gunshot. He was instantly in the air,= flying toward the window of the hotel room. When Christine saw that Randy was shot, she went wild. She screamed at the= top of her lungs "NNNOOOOOOOO" and kicked open the closet door. Still= screaming, she shot "Big Mack" three times squarely in the chest before he= even knew what had happened. He dropped to his knees and then crumpled like= a rag doll, dead before he collapsed. "Tiny" went for his weapon, and just= as he did Christine saw someone come crashing in through the window. The= guy went straight for "Tiny", and "Tiny" shot at him. Christine couldn't= figure how "Tiny" could have missed at such close range, but the man kept= advancing. He grabbed "Tiny" and threw him hard against the wall.=20 Then the window-crasher turned to Christine and she couldn't believe what= she saw. His eyes were yellowish-gold-colored and he had. . .fangs in his= mouth like in some Dracula movie. Christine just stood there, holding the= Beretta on the creature, but she was too shocked to move. He took a step= toward Christine and he said, "Drop the gun." He held out his hand to her= and took another step. "You can put the gun down now," he said, and this= time Christine could *feel* his voice inside her head. She could hear her= own heartbeat and she could tell it was slowing down after the shock of the= killing. And she thought she could hear his heartbeat, too. "Put the gun= down," he said=20softly, and again Christine could feel his voice not only= in her head but in her heart and, so it seemed, in every part of her. She= felt like *he* was slowing her heart down. More than anything she wanted to= put the gun down, but something paralyzed her. He took another step closer= to her. His eyes held hers. All she could see was his eyes. All she could= hear was their heartbeats and his voice, "You're okay now. You can put the= gun down. You don't want to hurt anyone any more." Nick took the gun out of Christine's hand. She still held her arms out, as= if unable to move them. She kept looking in his eyes. He was still= manifested as his vampire-self because of being shot by the small goon when= he came in through the window. In another minute or so he would recover= from the shock and be back to normal, the beast back at rest. But now he= must take care of the girl, make her forget. He stared deep into her eyes= and felt their hearts beat in sync. He brought up his hypnotic powers to= wipe the girl's memory. "You never saw me this way," he said. Christine stared into those yellow-gold eyes. She could lose herself in= those eyes. She heard him repeat, "Forget. Forget what you saw. You never= saw me this way." Then she blinked and took a breath. "What the hell *are*= you?" she asked, and she took a step back. *()*()*()*() Nick knew then he had a problem. Or two. He could hear the cops coming up= the stairs and he knew he had to do something fast. He punched Christine in= the jaw and she fell unconscious to the floor. With all his will, he put= the beast in him down so that the officers would not see his vampire-self.= Just then, Morales and the others came crashing through the door. "Knight?= What the hell are you doing in here? I thought I told you guys to Stay Back= unless we called you in!" "There are your dealers, Morales," Nick said. "And this is your witness.= She is unconscious and she needs a hospital. I think I had better get her= there ASAP, don't you?" Nick stared hard into the officer's eyes. He knew= he didn't dare use his hypnotic powers now with all these cops in here all= pumped up and alert, all eyes on him.=20 Morales blinked first. "Okay, get her out of here. But stay with her and= call me when she wakes up. We'll need a statement from her about what= happened here tonight, and anything else she can tell us. And I'll need a= statement from you, Knight!" Nick picked up the girl in his arms and got the keys to the car they had= brought from the officer who had driven. <> he thought as he= loaded the girl into the car. <> He headed for his loft. He needed some time to think about this,= and maybe some help, too.=20 *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:09 1996 Date: Wed, 27 Nov 1996 23:25:25 -0600 From: Carolyn Price To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (3/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 3 The elevator clattered to a stop at the top floor and Nick struggled to open the door with the girl in his arms. He deposited her on the sofa and then tore his coat off and threw it across a chair at the dining table. He had worked up a bit of a sweat with all the exertion and excitement, and he headed for the refrigerator to get himself a drink. He wiped the blood-sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and as he tasted the cold, bottled cow's blood, he struggled not to retch. <> he thought to himself, looking at the bottle with disgust, <> He poured a glass of the swill and went to the desk, where he sat and turned on the laptop computer. He took another drink while waiting for the machine to boot up, and he glanced at the girl on the sofa. Just when had he decided to stop drinking human blood? And why? At times like this he couldn't remember. After all the excitement tonight, being shot, and now with the girl here, his mind went back to the old days. He was happy as a vampire once. Killing, feeding, without remorse. When had his mortal conscience returned to madden him with its annoying insistence that feeding on mortals was wrong? Did the lion feel remorse when it fed on the gazelle? Probably not. It was hungry, it fed, end of story. And here he was with a warm human in the room and he was trying to gag down cold cow's blood. Go figure! The flashing cursor caught his attention, drawing him out of his musings, and he proceeded to log on to the internet. He had to send a message to his Master, asking for help with the situation at hand. He imagined what LaCroix might say: <> But that's not what he wanted to do. He was done with killing. There had to be another solution. He accessed his e-mail program and addressed a message to LaCroix. The message was short, but it was all that was necessary in times of extreme need: L, I need your help. N. He clicked the Send button and then sat staring at the screen, as if hoping that an answer would come immediately. He knew his Master was traveling, and had been gone for several weeks already. LaCroix could be impulsive sometimes, packing up and taking off for an Adventure, an Explore, to Parts Unknown. He also knew that LaCroix, keen on this new technology, routinely checked messages every few days. Nick started to mentally formulate the plan that would take him until such time as his Master would contact him. Just then he heard the girl moving on the sofa, regaining consciousness. He walked over to stand where she could see him as she woke up. Christine woke with a start. Memories of the events came flooding back to her as she opened her eyes and saw the vampire standing there beside her. But he didn't look like a vampire now. He looked normal. Blond, blue eyes, not her type but kind of cute after all. Maybe she hadn't seen what she thought she saw. But then she thought of the recent vampire films she had seen, and all the books she had read about them. Vampires could look normal, right? Then the pain in her jaw reminded her of what he had done. "Owww!" she moaned, rubbing her chin with both hands, as if checking to see that it was still properly attached. "I'm sorry I had to do that," Nick explained. "There didn't seem to be any other way..." "No problem," she responded, somewhat sarcastically. "My name is Nick. Nick Knight, Metro Police." "And you're a vampire," she added. So she had remembered after all. He knew it was true, but he could hope... "Yes, I am." She looked up at him, still holding her jaw in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes, "I always knew it," she whispered. Nick was puzzled by this response. He had encountered many mortals in his 800 years who had reacted in many ways to the news that vampires existed. Of course, most of them were facing imminent death when they learned this particular facet of nature, but NEVER had he seen such a reaction. "So your kind really does exist!" A single tear ran down one cheek, and she continued to look up at him, as if in watching she could observe and understand everything that made him what he was. She smiled a poignant little half-smile. <> Nick told himself. <> *()*()*()*() "We need to talk about what happened at the hotel tonight," Nick said, sitting in the chair beside the sofa. Then he realized he didn't even know her name yet, so he asked. "Christine," she replied, still staring at him. He was beginning to be uncomfortable with all this scrutiny. <> he thought. "Christine what?" "Patterson." "Christine, did you have any personal belongings with you at that hotel? Any clothes, papers, anything?" She blinked once or twice, trying to focus on what he was saying. She just looked at him, puzzled, and shook her head. "What about any identification, did you have a purse? A drivers license? Anything you might have left at the crime scene that they can use to ID you?" "No, my ID is here, in my pocket," she said, checking for it. "I didn't have a purse." "Have you ever been arrested?" "No, why?" "Good, that means you don't have a record. No fingerprints on file for that reason. Have you ever been fingerprinted for any reason?" "No." "Good," Nick said, somewhat distracted. "Good." "Why?" Christine was uncomfortable with this line of questioning. She wondered what he was getting at. "Well," Nick looked at her again, his attention returned to the conversation, "procedure is that they will take prints from the entire room. We left the gun you used, so we know they will have your prints. But if they can't match them up with anything it makes it a lot easier." "Easier for what?" she asked, afraid of the answer. "For you to disappear." Christine felt her heart sink. "Oh. So you mean to kill me." "No," he half whispered, wrinkling his brow slightly, "it is not my plan to kill you." "Yeah," she countered, her disbelief apparent in her voice. "Right. But you can't make me forget either. You tried in that hotel room, didn't you, and you couldn't do it. Forget what I saw, I mean. You...what you really are. " He stared at her blankly. "And I can't know about that, can I?" She said slowly, trying to keep her voice from quavering. "No, you can't," his voice was barely audible and he had averted his eyes. Then he did look at her, and continued, "But I'm working on that." She nodded, turning away, and moved to the edge of the sofa. After a moment he asked, "What about your partner? Did he have any ID that might give away an address?" She made a sound that told her distaste with his description of Randy. "My *partner*. No, I don't think so. I hadn't been with him long. We hadn't lived in that place long. It wasn't like it was his domicile or anything, just a room. Not the hotel, I mean, we had a room somewhere else." "Good. I'm sorry about him, by the way, but you made your choices." She stared daggers at him. "I MADE NO CHOICE. I was there but I didn't want to be. He made me do it. I know that sounds lame, but it's true. He knocked me around and threatened to do worse. I just didn't have the strength. I knew it was stupid and I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway. How stupid! He got what he deserved. Maybe I deserve the same." Nick quietly listened as Christine continued. "I was going through a bad patch when I met him, and it's just kind of gone down hill since then. Out of money, no job, no place to live. He took me in for certain ... considerations. And look at me now: first, drug dealers nearly killed me; then, I had to kill one of them; now a vampire is holding me prisoner while he works on a solution to this little 'problem' of what to do with someone whose mind he can't erase. I'd say I'm pretty well screwed, wouldn't you Nick? But you know what? It's okay! Because now I know something that nobody else on the face of the planet knows. I know that vampires really, truly exist. And if I have to die for that knowledge -- if that's the price I have to pay -- so be it. Maybe it's worth it!" She smiled smugly, a cat-that-ate-the-canary kind of smile. Nick admired her spirit at a time like this. Then her face went serious, "I tell you what, Nick, you let me go, and give me bus fare, and I will leave this place and never look back. And I will never, ever tell what I know. I swear it. You have my word. And that is one thing on which you can rely." He looked into her eyes and her mind and he knew she meant what she said. "It's not that simple," he countered. "There are other vampires who would know that you know and they would not allow you to live. You could endanger all of us. No mortal must know about us." She got up and walked to stand in front of the fireplace, nodding slightly, rhythmically. She was silent for a time. Then she turned to face him, a look of triumph on her face. "Then make me into what you are! That will solve everything." He had half expected this proffered solution, dreaded it in fact. "I can't do that, Christine. I won't do it. You don't have the vaguest idea what it all means." "Then you could teach me," she suggested, not about to give up without exploring the possibility. "I HATE this so-called-life I am living," Nick countered, distaste apparent on his face. "Always in darkness, afraid someone will discover the truth. I have to lie to everyone about everything regarding who I am and where I came from. No one can know about my friends, family, any of it. And the killing...." his voice trailed off and he turned away from her. "I will NOT inflict this life upon any living being. EVER." "But the killing is just a part of what you are," she submitted. He turned on her suddenly, nostrils flared and eyes glaring. He took a step towards her and she was afraid he meant to strike at her. "You know NOTHING about it! How DARE you presume to understand ANYTHING about how I feel. About what this life is. It is worse than hell, and there is NO escape. To kill just to live? To prolong this eternal misery? No! I decided long ago that I would not take another mortal life. And I will not take yours, just to 'fix' this situation. There HAS to be another way." He turned and walked away from her and stood looking out the windows. She knew this was not the time to press him further. Maybe later, or tomorrow... After a minute or so he went to the desk to retrieve his glass and then to the kitchen to pour himself another "special". Christine tentatively went towards the kitchen and sat at the dining table. "Is there enough of that for me to have a glass, please?" He swung his head to her, horror on his face. "WHAT???" He nearly screamed it at her. She was taken aback by his reaction. "I'm over 21. I was just asking for maybe a little glass of the wine." <> he thought to himself <> He relaxed his stance a bit and replied, "I'm sorry for shouting. And it's not wine." She gave him a puzzled/blank look, then it seemed to register in her mind that this might be something that only vampires would drink. "Oh. Okay, then I guess it must be..." as her voice trailed off, her eyes met his. She could see the pain in his eyes. He really was in terrible turmoil over *what* he was. She could see that now. She felt his pain, and she was confused by it as well. She had known lots of people who hated what they were. It seemed to be a common affliction with just about everyone Christine came into contact with, even herself from time to time. But someone like him, who had all that power--who could be anything, do anything, go anywhere. (At least if half the legends were true...) He walked to the desk and sat. No one spoke for a very long time. Then finally Christine went to stand near him. When he turned to look at her, she asked, "Is there any way you could go and get my things from the place where I was living? I would like to shower and change clothes, if that's okay. If these other vampires should come to kill me, I would at least like to die ... clean. I don't know why that's suddenly important." "I think I understand. But don't worry, there's no way the Enforcers could have found out about all this already. Just give me the address and I'll go get your stuff. I have to go back to the precinct and switch cars. And report you missing. I'm afraid I'll have to lock you in until I return. The apartment is secure; you won't be able to find a way out." "I understand. I just hope there's not a fire in the building while you're gone. But then, if there is I guess that will solve Our Little Problem, won't it?" "I'm sure you'll be okay," Nick replied, ignoring her sarcasm, but he knew she was right. "Yeah. I'm sure I will." But she didn't sound too sure. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:12 1996 Date: Wed, 27 Nov 1996 23:33:21 -0600 From: Carolyn Price To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (4/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 4 "What do you mean she got away?!?!?!!" Morales was on his feet and in Nick's face as soon as the words were out of Nick's mouth. They were in Reese's office at the precinct, where Nick had just begun his story of the "disappearance" of Christine. "Just what I said, Morales. I stopped in traffic. She was unconscious, I thought. Next thing I knew, she was out the car door and running down the street. Before I could pull the car over out of the way and give chase, she had just disappeared. I tried every alley, back-tracked, did everything I could, but she was just gone." Morales was fuming. His hands were balled up in fists and Nick knew he wanted desperately to throw a punch or twenty. Morales was so angry he couldn't speak. His lips were edged in white and Nick thought the man might stroke out right there, he was so pissed. Reese broke the silence, "Nick, go get with the sketch artist and put together a composite of this girl. Then put out an all-points on her. She is bound to turn up. Somebody will see her." Nick left and Morales slammed the door behind him. It didn't take preternatural vampiric hearing to know what was being shouted about, cussed, and discussed in that office after Nick left. As he went to find the sketch artist, heads were turning to watch him go. Puzzled looks followed him. Everybody knew what had happened in the raid tonight, but the grapevine hadn't yet spread how Knight had lost an unconscious perp on his way to take her to hospital for care and observation. <> Nick thought to himself. <> He knew it was almost unheard of to fire a cop, but he knew that sometimes they were asked to transfer. This career of his had become difficult, but HE wanted to be the one to decide when to leave it. He was beginning to wonder if he would still have that chance. *()*()*()*() After Nick finished with the sketch artist, he went to the address Christine had given him to retrieve her things. He packed up everything that looked like it was hers, which wasn't much. Clothes, personal hygiene items, and one or two items he couldn't be sure about ownership. There was a "Guns-n-Stuff" magazine and one badly worn, obviously well-used paperback book: Anne Rice's *Interview with the Vampire*! <> Nick's thoughts were racing. He loaded everything into a tote bag he found in the room and, taking one last look around, he walked out. Driving back to the loft, his mind was racing. The only answer to this dilemma that kept nagging at him was the one he would not accept. ((Kill her and be done.)) <> he answered the voice in his head. <> He was almost back at the loft and then realized he had probably better get some food for the girl, since he had nothing in the apartment. So he stopped at a grocery, where he walked the aisles, uncertain about exactly what he was looking for. He finally made a few selections, then paid and drove home. As he turned the key to enable the elevator to return to the loft, he realized he was in something of a daze. Only then did he recognize how powerless he was feeling. He didn't know what to say to her or what to do. And she had asked him to bring her across! <> he resolved. <> Oh well, for now he decided to just play it by ear. Maybe she would be asleep. After all, it was nearly 4 in the morning. *()*()*()*() Christine had been dozing in front of the small fire she had built in the fireplace when the sound of the elevator roused her. She had exhausted herself after checking every door, every window, any possible exit from this place. There was none. Unless she wanted to jump out a window, and it looked like about a five floor drop. She could find no way out. She had paced and cussed and even cried a little out of anger and frustration. She couldn't begin to take in all that had happened to her tonight. She had no idea how this night would affect the rest of her life, if indeed there *was* a "rest" of her life. She resolved not to give up on life, though. Maybe she could fake losing her memories of vampires. But no, they could read her mind, couldn't they? Damn! As she became fully awake to the sound of the elevator grinding and groaning its way up to this floor, her heart started to race. Who would it be? Was it the Enforcers Nick had spoken of? Was this the end for her? Her growing fear suddenly gave way to some new emotion. Something very new for her. She determined to stand and face whatever awaited her on the other side of that door, to meet her fate. She wasn't afraid, not nearly like she thought she should be, and she didn't really know why. She had been living an uncertain existence for so long, it just didn't seem to matter if it was about to end. She was Tired of Being a Victim. Nick opened the door to find Christine standing there facing him. He thought that perhaps she meant to run for the door, to slip past him and disappear into the night, to fulfill the lie he had told Morales and Reese. He was surprised to see her breathe a sigh of relief when she recognized him and saw that he was alone. Then she turned and walked back toward the fireplace. "I brought your things," he said, following after her, "at least all I could tell for sure was yours, and some other things I wasn't sure about." "Thank you. Did you get my book? The Anne Rice?" Then she added, a bit sarcastically, "I mean ... it looks like I might need to do a little quick research..." Nick was continually amazed at the girl's spunk. In a situation like this, many other mortals would be quivering piles of jelly. But not this girl! "Yes, but I figured the "Guns-n-Stuff" magazine wasn't yours, so I left it." Christine laughed out loud. Nick liked the way it sounded. He *really* liked the way it sounded. She walked over to where he was holding out the tote bag to her and she quickly rummaged through it. She removed a couple of shirts and threw them on the fire. Nick looked at her, surprise registering on his face. "They were Randy's," she explained. Then she re-packed the bag. She kept out the book, holding it in her hand. "I LOVE this book. It's the only book I own any more. I've read it a dozen times... So tell me, have you read it?" "Of course I have," he answered. She looked at him questioningly. He proceeded to answer her before she asked. "She romanticizes things a very great deal, but she is sometimes -- repeat, SomeTimes -- technically fairly close to accurate." Then he added, "On some things." Christine smiled an I-thought-so smile and clutched the book to her chest. She took a deep breath. "Now, I think I'd like to get that shower and maybe get some sleep. Unless ... you've decided to let me go?" "I don't think so. By the way, I picked up a few food items for you, in case you're hungry," he held the bag out to her. "Thanks, that was thoughtful," she smiled at him, and appeared to want to say something else. But she didn't, she just took the grocery bag from his hand and headed upstairs. "Christine," Nick called to her. When she turned to listen to him, she saw a serious look on his face and she was immediately struck with concern. "We have to talk tomorrow. I need to know some things about what happened in that hotel room tonight. Police business, you know." "Sure," she said, though she had a slight frown and a faraway look on her face. "I'm not sure I'll be able to help much, though. I really didn't know much about it." "And...I guess you know I can't let you have the run of the apartment when I'm asleep. I'll have to lock you in the guest room. It's better for us both that way, believe me." She smiled a tentative smile back at him, "I understand. You can't have me staking you while you sleep, now can you," she quipped, but he didn't smile. Then she added hopefully, "Or is that one of the myths that isn't exactly close to accurate?" "No, that one is right on the money," he replied, with a serious look on his face. And Christine knew instantly that this particular topic was no laughing matter. *()*()*()*() Nick followed Christine upstairs, got her some clean sheets and towels, then bade her good night as he locked her in the guest room. The room was small but luckily it had a private bath; otherwise, he guessed he would have had to give her his room. And just as luckily, he had installed a dead-bolt on the door that locked from the outside. It could also be unlocked from the inside with a key, but he was sure there was no key or wires, paper clips, hairpins, or any such implements the girl might use to pick the lock. He really didn't know anything about her. Maybe she was a thief, and maybe she could pick the lock with something he wouldn't suspect could be used. Luckily, he had a lock on his bedroom door, too. There was a slide bolt inside the room that would enable the girl to lock herself in. Not an adequate deterrent for a determined vampire, but when he had installed it Nick suspected it would likely never be needed. He had never had to contain a mortal in his apartment before and never thought he would. And yet here it was, just the situation he least expected. He waited a while, listening for her to lock the door, but she did not. It didn't really surprise him. Nick went downstairs to check his e-mail, have another glass of the "special", and just generally prowl around the apartment to consider the situation. Nothing on e-mail, no brilliant revelations about the solution to this or any other problem. He punched the button on the remote that raised the window shades and watched the sky. Sometimes this gave him a sense of peace. From his window, he could see the clouds in the night sky reflecting the lights of the city. It was delicious to see light and clouds in the sky, even if it was false light. He sat and pondered the night's events and what tomorrow would bring until he noticed the sky tinge with pink -- the coming of the dawn. He always flirted with disaster watching the sun come up, but he loved to do so. It made him feel that he was almost like any other person who worked the night shift: go to work in the dark, come home as the sun is rising. The difference with him was he couldn't let the sun touch him. No stopping off for breakfast with friends before going home to bed. He could fool himself only just so much, then reality took over. For 768 years he had not been able to stand in the light of day without suffering pain and burns. The pain didn't last long once he got out of the sun, and the burns would be healed within hours, but the pain in his heart and the sense of loss were not nearly so easily relieved. He pressed the button on the remote to close the shades when the light in the sky changed from pink to the grey that came just before the sun was fully risen. The pain in his eyes from that amount of light burned into his brain, and he found it most *desagreable* [disagreeable]. It was just another reminder that no miracle had happened tonight to make him mortal again. *Au contraire* [Quite the contrary] -- given tonight's events he had additional burdens. He prowled the room, pacing back and forth, checked e-mail again -- still nothing there -- got another glass of the "special". It seemed that he was especially "hungry" tonight, and he suspected it was because there was a mortal nearby. That was always ... difficult. And yet, wasn't there a time...? He had a vague recollection of something, couldn't quite bring it into focus. Another woman? Here, in this apartment? Why couldn't he remember? He could almost smell her perfume, almost ... see an outline of her face, but not quite. It was too far out of range for him to grasp it. But there was something... There were always memories. After so many years... Maybe that's all it was. Yes, that must be it. *()*()*()*() + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Hope I'm not annoying too many of you guys. I'm trying to get all these e-mail bugs worked out. Let me know PRIVATELY if it is too awful when it "comes across" -- CousinCp "Is this the fun part?" From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:16 1996 Date: Thu, 28 Nov 1996 19:41:42 -0600 From: Carolyn Price To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (5/26) This segment contains a brief Last Knight flashback. Thanks to the author; no copyright infringement is intended. I hope you like it so far; thanks for staying with me ^^..^^ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 5 Nick had trouble getting to sleep and then he woke up at one in the afternoon. He listened at the guest room door but heard no movement. He slipped a note under the door telling Christine to knock when she woke and he would unlock the room. He thought it best that he book off work so he could interrogate Christine. He knew that it would look suspicious if he suddenly knew too much about Randy's side of the operation, but he had to decide what to do about the murders. Too many unsolveds looks bad in any police precinct. And last night there were one or two in that hotel room. Nick felt certain that the little guy he had slammed against the wall must have died -- regrettable, but he had lost control from the shock of being shot. It might be inferred that the big man had killed the smaller man, and the gun powder on the big man's hands and the prints on his weapon would undoubtedly show that he had shot Randy. But neither of the other two had fired a weapon. And then there was the weapon with Christine's prints on it -- the weapon that had killed the big man, as ballistics would show. Nick knew he had done the right thing leaving the Beretta at the scene. Three dead men and one unconscious girl could NOT have disposed of a murder weapon. No, he had to leave it there. But if Christine's memory of Nick could be successfully erased, he intended to bring her in for the murder. Maybe it had been self defense, temporary insanity, whatever. He was still a cop and she *had* killed the man. That was the law. (Unless they both had to answer to a higher law, if her memory could *not* be erased.) It was nearly six before he heard her knocking. When he went up to unlock the door, he could hear her heartbeat as he reached the top of the stairs. The closer he got to the room, the louder it was. This is how he remembered it with mortals, the sound of their beating hearts, pumping that glorious elixir ... He felt his own heartbeat quicken and knew he must get control of himself. It would become increasingly more difficult to have a mortal this near him, but he had little choice. With an effort of will, he slowed his heart again to its normal rate of just a few beats per minute. Then he unlocked her door. Her scent assailed him like a slap in the face. She smelled of springtime and sunshine, of peaches, and of warm, rich blood. It overwhelmed him, and he had to say a quick "good afternoon" and then move away. She was puzzled at why he greeted her so abruptly, but she followed him downstairs. She found him in the kitchen, pouring himself another glass of that liquid that she surmised must certainly be blood. She saw him take a deep drink then a deep breath, then he looked at her and gave a slight smile. She noticed his eyes were lightly flecked with gold. So! She had aroused him somehow. "Good afternoon to you, too," she smiled at him warmly. "I have no idea what time it is, but I feel so rested. I don't believe I have ever spent the night in such a nice place." "It's just after five," he replied, matter-of-factly, ignoring the compliment. Her face registered surprise. "I know you wanted to talk. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting long." "No problem," he brushed it aside, "I had some things to do. That passed the time. Besides, I've had a lot to think about. To try and sort out." He took another drink then noticed her watching him. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "No, not at all, thank you. The care package you brought me is holding out nicely. What wonderful selections, too. Brie, French bread, fruit! I haven't eaten so well in ages. I'm afraid you're spoiling me." She smiled at him sweetly. He was captivated by the way the light danced in her eyes. <> The voice in his head was full of all kinds of annoying advice. He still did not mean to kill her but it was getting hard to be so near her. And it hadn't even been 24 hours yet! Where was LaCroix? They sat down to talk about what little Christine knew of Randy's drug dealing. She answered all Nick's questions as best she could, and whenever she said she didn't know, Nick scanned her thoughts to determine that she was in fact telling him the truth. He had to call Christine on a couple of things, but he chalked it up to her innocence or embarrassment more than anything else. He believed that she was truly remorseful that she had been in that hotel room. She was not proud of her association with Randy, and it pained her to have to lay it all out in front of Nick, whom she hardly knew. Nick had always found that the ability to read a mortals' thoughts was an invaluable tool for a detective. Every suspect proclaimed his/her innocence; but Nick could determine whether or not they were guilty by simply probing their thoughts. That way, he knew whether to continue looking for evidence to convict them by traditional means. On a few occasions, though, he had "convinced" a suspect to make a full confession, if the evidence was impossible to obtain. He figured he was right about 99% of the time. During the questioning, Christine felt more and more that she could tell Nick anything. She trusted him somehow. Ironic, since he was her jailer and possibly meant to kill her. But as they continued to talk, she was impressed with the feeling that he somehow understood why she did some of the things she did. Maybe he understood more than she did, and she wanted to know more about him. Whenever she would ask him something about himself that somehow remotely touched on the topic at hand, he would try to politely but quickly answer. After all, they were supposed to be talking about *her* situation and her relationship with Randy and anything she could tell him that might help in the investigation. He was not inclined to tell her his story, though that is exactly what she wanted to hear. Why tell her more, and then have that much more to erase from her mind? The little shreds he told her of his life held her rapt attention. He was somewhat flattered that someone could find him so interesting. He had not experienced anything like it since ... he couldn't remember when. But there was that something again, that cloudy memory of someone sitting there on the sofa, just as Christine was now. And she had also been listening intently, or laughing softly, or throwing popcorn at him and they were both laughing. Who was she? Why couldn't he remember? *()*()*()*() At about ten, Nick called in to talk to Reese, to see if he was badly needed for anything, and to check up on the progress of the investigation. Reese confirmed Nick's suspicions about the death of the small man, and he also told Nick that Morales was on the war-path. It was probably a good night for Nick to have booked off work. Since the drug bust had gone down all wrong, Morales and his people had to start all over again, building their case, gathering evidence. That meant that a year's worth of work was gone, "pissed away", as Morales had put it, by what he had called "that cowboy detective." Reese also told Nick that the M.E. had finished the work-ups on the three men from the hotel room. It appeared that the smallest man had died of internal injuries, as a result of being slammed hard against a wall. The M.E. was fairly certain that only the larger of the two hooligans would have had the bodily strength to have done that, even though no one could really figure why he would have chosen that moment to kill his partner. Prints and powder on the big man's hands indicated that he had fired the weapon that killed the tall skinny one, one Randall Potts, and ballistics had confirmed. Potts's prints and another set of unidentified prints were on the weapon that had killed the big man. Since there was no powder residue on Potts' hands, they were attributing the murder to the Jane Doe who had escaped from the crime scene. They were issuing a warrant for her arrest that would be tagged onto the all-points bulletin with the artist composite Nick had helped construct. They had run her prints through local channels, FBI and even Interpol, but found no matches. That meant that evidently she had no prior arrests and had never even been fingerprinted. She would be hard to find, there was no doubt. But Reese didn't like it when someone got away with murder on "his watch" and Nick knew that Reese was enough of a bulldog to not let this one go. Nick thought as he hung up <> *()*()*()*() After he talked to Reese, Nick was reluctant to tell Christine what he had learned, so he decided that now would be as good a time as any to make his "grocery" run. He asked Christine if there was anything she needed, and she asked for a couple of things. He locked up the apartment, backed the Caddy out, and headed down toward the stockyards. He loved driving like this, in the open air, with the top down and the wind in his hair. It was a little like flying, but it took less effort and less concentration. Besides, he loved the roar of that old engine, the feel of the machine. It gave him a chance to escape and think, and he had a lot to think about. [Flashback] [1996, Toronto, at the Raven] The place was deserted. Odd to see it this way, it was always so "lively." Nick walked over to the bar and saw a marble bust in LaCroix's likeness and he was instantly alarmed. He suspected what this might mean. He began to search for the elder vampire and found him in one of the back rooms, packing a trunk. So it was true. He had decided to move on. LaCroix had told Nick that it was time for them *both* to leave Toronto, that they had both "worn out their welcome" here. This was always a dangerous thing for a vampire to do, to stay past his time. Nick had protested. Too many loose ends. It was just after Tracy was killed, there were questions he had to answer. He couldn't leave now. "I'll be at your loft later tonight and I will have your answer then," LaCroix had ignored his protests. "And then I *will* be leaving, with you or without you." [Present] [Nick parked at the lakeshore, laying on the hood of the Caddy, hands laced behind his head, staring at the midnight sky.] <> Nick thought <> He couldn't remember his Master coming by the loft that night, though he knew he must have. Nick knew he would not have gotten out of that confrontation just because LaCroix changed his mind. LaCroix *never* changed his mind about demanding an answer from his protege on the most - or the least - delicate topics. So why hadn't LaCroix come to the loft that night for the discussion Nick knew would have ensued? All Nick could remember was going in to work the next night (or what he thought was the very next night) and being confronted by Reese about 'where had he been for the last 2 days?' and 'why hadn't he called in or let somebody know?' Nick had been shocked about the missing time and had said so. He quickly came up with some story about a terrible fever, flu, or alien abduction. He 'really couldn't account for the time' and he was 'so terribly sorry' and 'why hadn't someone called?' Reese countered that they had called, lots of times, but never got an answer. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:20 1996 Date: Thu, 28 Nov 1996 19:41:47 -0600 From: Carolyn Price To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (6/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 6 [Flashback] [A few weeks before, Reese's office] "Look, Nick, I was worried about you," Reese said with a concerned look on his face. "I mean all you've been through lately... I know how it feels to lose a partner. But it doesn't help anything when you take off like that. I'm gonna let it slide this time, but you've got to work with me on this. I need you here, and I know you need to work a few things out, but it's gonna be OK, you know?" Nick just nodded. He felt that somehow this was greatly over-simplifying. Things *didn't* always turn out okay. "And Nick, there's something else," Reese's expression changed to one of complete seriousness. "I know she's a friend of yours, but I don't think you've heard yet. "Heard what, Cap?" "I want you to know that she's okay. She's in the hospital still, but she's going to be just fine." "Who?" Nick was completely at a loss. "Natalie. There's no easy way to say this, so here goes. She attempted suicide, but a neighbor found her and rushed her to emergency. She's got a long road ahead of her, but she's in good spirits and she's coming along just fine." "Natalie who?" Nick didn't recognize the name. Reese looked at him uncomprehending. He couldn't believe this man, who he at times suspected was having a fling with Natalie, could be reacting this way. Maybe it *was* alien abduction! "Natalie Lambert, you know, the Medical Examiner on our watch. You know, NATALIE!" "Oh, Dr. Lambert," Nick replied, a blank look on his face as if he hardly recognized the name. [Present] [Nick's loft, 2.30 a.m.] Christine sat at the desk, exploring the files and data on the laptop. She had booted it up on a whim, out of boredom, thinking that if Nick had stored his password she could surf the net to help pass time. Maybe even check his e-mail? Or send an urgent message for help? To whom? She really didn't have any friends in Toronto; at least no one she could turn to for help. Somewhere in the process, she had decided to hack into his database and spreadsheet files to find out what she could about him. Interesting how much information a vampire could store about his life, his business, all kinds of things he probably wasn't supposed to keep records of. But here it all was -- assets, solicitors, names and addresses (though she couldn't tell who was vampires and who wasn't), and on and on. Hell, she had even found something that looked like a novel or memoirs, hard to tell which. Just then she heard the elevator and quickly turned off the laptop so he wouldn't know she had been "playing." She sat on the sofa and picked up the book she had found in the workshop, where he stored his paintings and supplies. It was a very old-looking book with lots of historical perspective on ancient artwork. It had a musty old smell to it. All the pictures were in black and white, but they were quite good, considering. The copyright on the book was pre-1920 and the text was in French. She understood only about half of it, but it was still interesting. As Nick opened the door, Christine jumped up and ran to him with a big smile on her face. "Hi, honey, how was your day?" Now Nick was the one to laugh out loud. She cracked him up! Now she was laughing with him. It felt really good to be with someone, to not be alone all the time. If only... "I got your tea and the other things," he told her, "and I decided that you might like a nice warm meal. So I stopped at this place I know in Chinatown and brought you an order of Moo Goo Gai Pan. I hope you like it." He was loaded down with that and several "special" bottles. "Moo Goo at three in the morning? Wow, you must have some kind of connections." "Well, let's just say the owner of the place owed me a favor. He wasn't happy about opening his kitchen at this time of night, but he got a kick out of me talking to him in his native tongue. That was, of course, after he had been smiling at me while cursing me in Chinese, thinking I didn't understand." Then they had another laugh. Christine made a pot of tea to go with her dinner, and Nick even had a cup with her, to be sociable. "I thought vampires couldn't drink anything but blood," Christine questioned him, curious about his tea drinking. "That's just another of those myths. Actually, we *can* drink just about any liquid. Now whether we *like* it or not is another matter. And then there are some Purists who refuse to take anything but blood, just on general principles. Christine smiled at him quietly for a minute and ate a little of the chicken and veggies. It was delicious; she had been hungry and hadn't realized how much so. "You know, I can't remember when the last time was I had a hot meal. Thank you for this, it's wonderful." <> Nick thought. Again he found himself staring into her eyes, hearing her heartbeat, drinking in the scent of her, reveling in being close to her, wanting her ... desperately. <> He rose from the table and walked around the room, apparently not sure of his direction. He stood and looked out the windows a while, then he went to the desk. He sat and booted up the laptop, then logged on to check his e-mail. Just as he feared, nothing from LaCroix. <> he consoled himself. <> A week! *Mon Dieu*! [My God!] He knew now that he couldn't last that long. If only he could contact Janette! Anyone he could trust, just so he wouldn't have to be alone around the girl and endure this constant temptation. But Janette did not want him to know where she was. She had told LaCroix, of that he was sure. But the Master had kept Janette's confidence and not told Nick where she was, even though technically Nick was Janette's master now. Old loyalties ran deep among his kind. Suddenly Nick had an idea to contact Aristotle. Though he would certainly not tell Nick where Janette was -- if he knew her whereabouts -- perhaps he would relay Nick's message. Nick quickly wrote the e-mail to the ancient vampire who had helped so many others of the Community. And he added a note that the computer genius's services might be needed soon on another matter. He felt a sense of relief as he clicked on the Send button, trusting that now surely something was bound to happen. *()*()*()*() The next night, Nick again booked off work. He made his excuses to Reese that he really must have picked up some kind of flu bug. The reality was that, though Nick found it difficult to be near the girl, he knew he had to protect her. If LaCroix came and found her alone in the loft, he might kill her without waiting for an explanation. And then there were the Enforcers. If they had learned about this (though that was doubtful), there could really be trouble. Nick had told no one of the Community about the girl, not that he had close ties with any of them any more. The only way the Enforcers would likely know was if they had been watching that night, or if some other vampire had seen and relayed the news. But they did have the most uncanny ability to know things they had no apparent way of knowing. Reese sounded annoyed at having one of his best detectives out of pocket again, especially in the aftermath of this Special Affairs debacle. Plus, there seemed to be suddenly a wave of homicides to contend with -- three already in the last 12 hours. But what could he do? He told Nick to get better real soon and then he rang off. Just then Morales walked into his office. "Knight calling in sick again?" Morales asked, sarcastically. Reese just looked at him. Morales was hard as nails and he wouldn't budge an inch. And he seemed to hate Nick Knight. Reese guessed he really couldn't blame Morales for his feelings about Nick; anybody who had cost him a year's work wouldn't be on his list of favorite people either. "Maybe I should stop by and take him some chicken soup or something," Morales suggested, a glitter in his eyes. "Maybe you should just forget it, Morales." Reese wanted to keep those two as far apart as possible. "No, really, think about it, Reese," Morales continued. "Your golden boy wrecks my investigation, then he takes off with the only living witness. Next thing we know she 'just disappears' as he put it, and then he doesn't show up for work the next two shifts. Sounds to me like he might have decided she was too cute to go to jail. Maybe someone should pay him a surprise visit. Or should I say *them*?" Reese felt his blood pressure go up a notch or two. "You just watch what you're saying, mister! I know Nick Knight and he's a real straight arrow. I've never known him to do anything even remotely outside the law. There is no way he would harbor a fugitive for any reason, let alone 'cute'!" Morales could see the fire flashing in Reese's eyes. He knew Knight had this man fooled, but Morales wasn't about to give up on his suspicion. Morales had a sixth sense about some things, and on more than one occasion trusting his "gut" as he put it had saved his life and the lives of others. He knew there was something not quite right about this whole situation, and he intended to investigate. "Sorry, Captain, I'm sure you're right" Morales said humbly. Then he walked out of Reese's office thinking <> *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:25 1996 Date: Fri, 29 Nov 1996 21:49:22 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (7/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 7 After Nick hung up with Reese, he sat for a few minutes, trying to figure out his next move. He was getting extremely restless just hanging around the apartment. He wasn't used to so much inactivity. He looked over at the girl, who was content with some old book or other that she had found. He actually didn't have too many books any more, and those he did have he had read more than once. But they were all new to her, and she seemed to love to read. At least she was quiet for now. For nearly two days and nights she had been questioning him about one thing or another dealing with The Truth About Vampires. He had tried at first to avoid her questions, believing that the more she knew the more there would be to erase. But he soon came to realize she had seen perhaps every vampire film and read many vampire novels -- even supposed documentaries and non-fiction accounts. If, after erasing her memories, she did remember some of the facts and events he related to her, she would undoubtedly just think it was all part of the vast pool of knowledge she already had about "his kind." So, he humored her by telling her about himself: his childhood, his friends and family, his first love, his first time in battle, and finally his fall from grace, as he put it. He took an odd pleasure in telling her his story. He cast his memory back to such time as he had last told his story to anyone else. That was probably 300 years ago, and it was to another vampire. A human could not really relate to tales of times and places from over a few decades ago, much less over 76 decades ago! She watched and listened to every nuance of every story he told her. He was amused by the way her eyes would light up or she would gasp with shock at some of the scarey parts. And she asked some very probing questions that really made him think. It was quite cathartic telling her his story. He began to rethink some of the ideas he had held for such a long time. Why WAS this so, or why DID that matter? Her perspective was quite refreshing and although he would never admit it to her, he was enjoying this story-telling more than anything he had in a very long time. It also helped keep his mind off how drawn he was to her. Having her near, being with her every waking moment was more than many vampires would have been able to bear. He knew that the fact that he had not taken human blood in so long was having a definite influence on their relationship. Could he call it that? Did they have a "relationship?" Association was perhaps a better word for it. He could NOT allow himself to become attached to her. After all, her future was decided. Either her memory would be erased and she would go to jail for the shooting, or (if her memory could not be erased) she would have to either be killed or brought across. He found the latter two options unfortunate and yet he knew it was unavoidable. He was bound by the Code, as were all vampires, that a mortal must not be allowed to know of their existence. There were exceptions, of course, but they were discreetly kept very secret. There was Tracy who knew about Vachon and Screed, and then there was also ... someone else ... but right now he couldn't remember who. "What is your earliest memory?" She had closed the book and laid it on the sofa beside her. <> Nick thought, smiling quietly to himself. "Oh, I don't know. What's yours?" He realized he hardly knew anything about her. He hadn't wanted to know much about her before this, but he suddenly found himself curious. He had wanted to keep his distance, not see her as a person, and certainly not as a friend. It would only make it more difficult to do what would eventually have to be done. "I remember stairs. I was looking down a long staircase and I was afraid I would fall." She had a faraway look in her eyes, as if trying to recall it all. "I was about 2 years old, I learned later. We lived in upstairs quarters at the time. I think I was standing at the top of the stairs, holding my dad's hand, and he was going to help me down the stairs. Or maybe keep me from going down them, I don't know." She turned to look at him and smiled slightly. "I'm still afraid of stairs." She got up from the sofa and walked over to the fireplace before continuing. "My dad was a test pilot with the Air Force. We moved around a lot because they always needed him to go somewhere and fly some new plane." She paused then, and Nick noticed there were tears in her eyes. "He died when I was 7." She went to the windows and looked out for a long while. Nick rather regretted that his question had caused her pain. She turned to face him, the tears were replaced by a slight smile. "He was my whole world. And my mom adored him, too." She began to move around the apartment, searching for the words, then she continued, "I was born in Abilene, Texas. Right in the buckle of the bible belt, as they call it. Shortly after I was born, my dad pulled his first test flight at Nellis AFB in Nevada. We were usually at his duty station for a year or less. We were at Hill in Utah, Edwards in California, Wright-Patterson in Ohio, and of course Andrews in Washington and Langley in Virginia. It made it kind of hard to pack up and move my mom and me every year or so, but they consoled themselves by saying he was doing something he loved, we were always together, I wasn't in school yet, those kinds of arguments. "But then I had to start school and it made things a little more awkward to move every 6 or 8 months. I had to start a new school, try and make new friends, and make up for differences in lessons. I didn't really learn to read until I was in third grade." She smiled because Nick had a look of amazement on his face. "I know, I guess I'm making up for lost time now. I love to read, and I always find myself reading something. My favorite job ever was working in a bookstore. I got to read anything and everything, and the owner was a very wise, well-educated, very kind old man who could talk at length about just about anything. He was like the grandfather I never had... But I digress." She came and sat on the coffee table, facing Nick. Their knees were almost touching. "I didn't understand why my mom was crying that day when the men came from the base to tell us about the accident. One of them picked me up in his arms and told me everything was going to be okay. I squirmed and told him to put me down, I wasn't a baby. And why was my mom crying? "By that time she was screaming and calling the men all kinds of names: liars and murderers and other names I had never heard before. When one of the men tried to calm her down by putting a hand on her shoulder, she slapped him hard across the face. I remember he looked very surprised and then very angry by her reaction. I think he was the man in charge because he was the one who had done all the talking. He just muttered another 'sorry' and walked out of the house. By then a couple of other women neighbors of ours had come over and were trying to quiet my mother. I remember the man who had picked me up asked me if I was big enough to tell him where the coffee was and to help him make coffee. I remember thinking what a jerk he was, talking to me that way! I may have been little, but I was not a little kid, you know?" She was quiet for a time, looking at her hands resting on her crossed knees. "The worst of it was after the funeral. We were told that my dad's accident had been the result of an unauthorized maneuver. The crash was his fault, and that meant that our benefits would not be forthcoming. My mom had some kind of collapse when she heard the news. She was put in the hospital and I had to stay with the lady next door. After a few days my mom got to come home, but she looked awful and she would always cry. The man who had picked me up -- his name was Tom, I think -- came to visit us often after that. And then other men would come by to visit, some for an hour or two, sometimes one of them would be there when I got up in the morning. I was confused by all this of course, but I was only 7 and I didn't know what was going on. I only knew that it was wrong. "We lived in base housing, and since my dad was dead we had to move out. Tom helped us move and he hung around the new place a lot more than he had hung around before. The other men also still came by, when Tom wasn't there. They would call on the phone and I would tell them if he was there or not. Like I said, I was only 7." She offered that almost as a shield. Then she looked Nick straight in the eyes and continued, "I didn't know how bad things were. But that was only the beginning." The rest of her story of her mother's disgrace included rumors and accusations from neighbors and finally the need to move around a lot. Her mother started to drink to help dull the pain of her loss and the fact that since she had no marketable skills she had found it necessary to turn to prostitution. They moved a lot, gradually working their way north for no particular reason as far as Christine knew. Some man would generally try to pimp for her mother but she would not allow it. 'Why should I suffer through all this and some SOB I hardly even know gets all the money? I can protect myself.' The drinking escalated into drug abuse, mostly pills, to help her 'get by.' Christine was saddened by all this, but the worst was yet to come. The men that her mother brought home began to look upon Christine as an added "bonus" once she began to "blossom" into a young woman. That was when the real terror began, for both of them were living in the hell then. "Several times over the years she would end up in treatment for the drinking and she OD'd a couple of times on booze and pills ... I hated her for what she was doing to herself -- to both of us! I used to think she didn't know about what they were doing to me. But she knew and she didn't stop it. I hated her for that! I know she knew because I told her about it. When I was really young, they would threaten me, but when I got older and braver I told her. The only thing she ever did to protect me was to get me on the pill and to tell me to make sure they used condoms. Some mother, eh?" For years, she held hopes that her mother would realize what she was doing to them both and clean up her act. Finally Christine realized she had to save herself since she couldn't save her mother. She got a job as soon as she could to try and save a little money. Her mother always got some of it, but Christine was able to hide quite a bit, too. She resolved to finish high school, then get the hell out of there, which she did. Her voice was getting raspy. Nick could see that she was exhausting herself with remembering and telling this private horror. He put his hand tentatively on her hands, which were clasping her knees tightly against her chest now. "It's okay," he looked her straight in the eyes. "You don't have to go on. You can stop now." Tears welled up in her eyes and her lips began to quiver and tremble. She burst into a wailing, moaning cry. Her sobs wracked her body and she collapsed, burying her face against her knees. Nick felt her pain, and knew he had caused it to resurface by asking her to tell her story. He delicately began to rub her back, which caused her to cry even louder. Who knew how long since someone had shown her such kindness as to try and console her? He almost felt he wanted to cry with her, for childhoods ruined, for innocence lost. And then she was in his arms. It was sudden and completely unexpected. She was clinging to him as if he would disappear if she let go. He began to brush her hair out of her face, to dry her tears, speaking soft gentle words to console her. And then she kissed him, passionately and with desperate longing. He responded with equal passion. His kisses sent little electric shocks up and down her body. Her kisses became more insistent and he matched her intensity. A part of her brain knew that all she wanted was to mask the pain, to make it go away. A larger part of her motivation had nothing to do with that particular organ. She was running her hands through his hair, across his strong shoulders, exploring his face and neck with her kisses. She bit at him playfully on the ear lobes then the neck. He uttered a low, guttural moan something akin to a lion's purr. She began to unbutton his shirt and cover his chest with her kisses. She playfully pulled at the fine hairs on his chest with her lips, as she pulled the shirt down off his shoulders. Nick's head spun from the nearness of her, the beating of her heart, her scent, her touch. How long had it been since a mortal woman had touched him this way with warm, supple hands? He couldn't think. He wanted to lose himself, to give in to the nearness of her, her willingness, to take her. Just then he felt he was beginning to manifest into the vampire-self, and he pulled himself away. It was gut-wrenching for him, but his intellect kicked in just in time to prevent him from doing something that he really didn't want to do. He pushed her away and headed for the roof, through the skylight. His abrupt departure left Christine reeling and she nearly fell over. He had moved so fast that it took her a second to figure out where he was. She looked up and saw him closing the skylight, and the draft that came wailing through the apartment was a welcome cooling breeze. She saw his fangs and she thought she could see that his eyes were glazed with gold. So, she hadn't repulsed him after all. When he jumped away she thought it was out of disgust. <> she thought to herself. <> She had surprised herself that she would feel such passion for this man who was her captor and who "really wasn't her type," as she remembered thinking only a couple of nights ago. But look where "her type" had gotten her. Her type seemed to be losers, slackers, and drunks who used her for sex and a punching bag. Maybe it was time she changed her type. But then she went and stood in front of the fire, laughing at her thoughts. "So now 'my type' is a vampire?" she spoke softly to herself, shaking her head. "That's just great. That's perfect!" *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:28 1996 Date: Fri, 29 Nov 1996 21:49:28 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (8/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 8 It was just at that moment that Morales pulled up outside Nick's apartment. He sat in his car for a minute or so, just observing. He knew that Knight lived on the top floor and he could see that lights were on up there. He could not, however, detect any movement from his vantage point. He could only have seen someone if they were standing at the windows. He had never met Knight before the raid a few nights ago, but he had heard a little about him, both before and since then. Seems Knight was a bit of a loose cannon, a lone wolf. Sometimes a little of that was a good thing, but too much of it makes for a dangerous kind of cop, taking risks and, in Knight's case, losing partners. Morales had tried to piece together everything that had happened the night of the raid, and he came to the same conclusion every time. There was something not normal about Knight's presence in that room. How had he gotten there? Evidence showed that he had come in through the window. Interesting because there was no fire escape near that room, no balcony or ledge, and it was not accessible via the roof. How the hell had he gone crashing in through that window? It just didn't make sense. And why was he in there anyway? It was the "why" that made Morales want to find out all the answers. And then there was the business with the girl. Morales *knew* there was something that just didn't play about Knight's story of the girl's disappearance. Knight had been too eager to get the girl away from the crime scene. Maybe he knew her and was trying to protect her. Or maybe she had seen something she wasn't supposed to see. Something about our good detective that he couldn't afford to let her tell about. For all anyone knew, Knight might have killed the girl and disposed of the body where no one would ever find it. Some homicide cops sometimes got the idea that they could pull off the "perfect crime"; maybe our Nicky boy was one of those nut cases. Reese thought he walked on water, but Morales knew that everyone had a dark side. He had seen it too many times. Morales got out of his car and went over to the entry. He punched the button to buzz Knight's intercom and got no reply. He waited a few seconds, then punched it again, twice. If the guy was really sick, maybe he was in the can. Morales decided to give it a few more tries. If no one was at home, it wouldn't matter if he buzzed until it short-circuited. *()*()*()*() Christine heard an ugly buzzing noise and it startled her. She didn't know what it was and couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from. If it was some kind of door bell, she knew she wasn't about to answer it. "Nick, I need you!" she shouted as loud as she could. Her shout wasn't really necessary, though, Nick had seen Morales pull up and had already heard in his thoughts what he was plotting and planning. Nick was in through the sky light almost before Christine finished shouting to him, and he was over at the intercom in a flash. "Yeah, who is it?" Nick answered the buzz, and he sounded all out of breath. "It's Morales. I came to see how you are. Heard you were really down with this flu." "Well, I appreciate your concern, but you wouldn't want this crud I've got. It's miserable and I might be contagious." "Knight, can't I come up? Just for a minute. We need to clear the air, you and I." Nick hated to let him in, but knew his refusal would be too suspicious. "Sure, come on up." Then Nick turned to Christine. "Gather all your things from this room and go up to your room until this guy leaves. Do it now!" "Is he an Enforcer?" "No, he's just a suspicious cop." Christine did as she was told. From the landing, she took one last look around the room and could see no evidence that she had been there. She ran up the stairs just as she heard the elevator grinding its way to a stop. *()*()*()*() Morales slid the elevator door open and tentatively stepped into the room. Nick judged that by the expression on his face Morales must be feeling a little like he had just stepped through the looking glass. "What a place! It's huge in here!" "Thanks," Nick replied, not exactly certain that was a compliment, "I like it here. Plenty of room for all my toys." Morales looked around at the baby grand, the motorcycle in the corner. <> he thought to himself. "Come in," Nick invited him. "Sit down." He was reluctant to offer Morales anything to make him feel more welcome. He really didn't want the man to stay long. Morales sat quietly for a few seconds, fidgeting slightly as if he was uncertain how to begin. "Say, I hear you have an old '62 Cadillac convertible." "Yes, that's right." "My grandfather used to have one of those when he was in his second childhood. He got it in '82 and it was really just a hulk then. Everybody thought he was crazy, but he restored it completely. Really cherry when he was done with it! They all ate their words then. What about yours? How long have you had it?" <> Nick thought. <> Nick faked a really loud sneeze then a couple of coughs. "I've had it for about 10 years. Bought it fully restored. I'm not into working on cars." //Sniff, sniff, hack.// Morales looked at him with a little disgust over all the sneezing and hacking, then he continued, "Bet you get a lot of girls who want to 'go for a ride,' eh? My 'buelito said he did." "Not really." //Hack, hack, sneeze, sniff.// "Man, that really sounds bad! Are you taking anything for it?" "No, what can you take, you know? I'll be okay in a day or two. Just have to ride it out. Get lots of rest, as they say. In fact, I was half way napping when you buzzed. I wasn't sure I heard the buzz at first." "I guess that explains why it took you so long to answer," Morales smiled. <> he thought to himself, and of course Nick "heard" it. "But then again, look at how big this place is," Morales said, and he got up and started to walk around. "Mind if I have a look around?" Nick ignored the question, but stood and walked with Morales. He had every intention of keeping Morales downstairs and 'on task.' "You said we need to clear the air. Is there something you need to tell me or ask me?" Morales kept walking around supposedly just innocently inspecting the real estate, but Nick knew that he was searching for evidence that the girl was here. "Are there bedrooms upstairs?" "Yes and it's a real mess up there. The maid hasn't been in two weeks and what with me sick I haven't picked up at all. There are two bedrooms and two baths, actually quite small. The place was definitely built for living downstairs and just sleeping upstairs." By this time, Morales had worked his way to the foot of the stairs. Nick kept trying to get between him and the stairs, to turn him around, but he seemed determined to go up there. "Look," Nick said, perhaps a little more loudly than prudent, "you said we needed to talk. Can we please talk. I feel like *merde* [shit] and I need to get some rest." Morales turned to look at him. His expression was hard to read, but Nick heard all too clearly what he was thinking. ((You sorry SOB! I KNOW she's here!)) "Sure," he said at last. "Please," Nick said, gesturing to the sofa. Morales reluctantly went and sat. He had been determined to have a look upstairs, but without an invitation or a warrant he knew it was impossible. He opened up to Nick about his suspicions on the why and how of Nick being in the hotel room. He even laid out his suspicions about the girl. Nick was actually quite surprised that the man would open up and tell everything that he had been thinking. They talked for some time, Nick offering explanations and answers to all Morales' questions. Once or twice, Nick tried a little light hypnosis when Morales wasn't believing the answer. Then Nick tried spell-binding him, an old technique he hadn't used in decades, whereby he would confuse Morales by scrambling his thoughts. He tried taking the questions Morales was presenting and his supposed answers and twisting it all around so that Morales didn't even believe his own deductions any more. He felt he was having limited success with Morales; all this mental posturing seemed to make him uncomfortable and even more suspicious, so Nick finally resigned himself to simply answering the good detective's questions as best he could. When Morales left a little while later, Nick knew that nothing had been settled between them. Morales was very nearly as suspicious as before he arrived here, perhaps even a little more so in different ways, especially since he hadn't been able to see the entire apartment. *()*()*()*() Nick watched Morales drive away before going upstairs to tell Christine that he was gone. As he started for upstairs, he stopped himself. Remembering what had occurred just before Morales arrived, Nick was a little concerned about just where he and Christine stood now. He knew she wanted him to bring her across, and she might be playing him toward that end. If she knew she had the power over him to make him lose control, she might try it again. No, she *would* try it again. He would have to be especially careful now. Nick called up the stairs to Christine, "He is gone now. It's okay for you to come down if you like. I'm going out for a while. Do you hear me?" ((Yes, I hear you.)) Nick heard her speak in his head more than in his ears. She "sounded" a little sad or angry, or maybe a bit of both. Nick knew that the best thing for him to do right now was to stay away from her. He felt vulnerable and he also felt that she was using him. Either way, he didn't like it. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:30 1996 Date: Fri, 29 Nov 1996 21:49:33 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (9/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 9 Christine had locked herself in her room and had been sitting by the door, on the chance that she might be able to hear the conversation downstairs. She could hear none of it! She didn't know the circumstances of this cop or why he should have to clear the air with Nick as he put it. Maybe it had something to do with her. Nick had never really told her how he had accounted for her disappearance. Maybe they weren't buying his story. Maybe... Too many maybes! She pulled her knees up against her chest, leaning her back against the door. Her thoughts drifted back to earlier tonight, before this cop arrived, before she had scared Nick off. She had wanted him to make love to her. She wanted him to make her a vampire. She suddenly found herself wanting that more than anything she had wanted before. But he had refused absolutely. She started going over in her mind all the conflicting myths and legends about vampire love-making. Could he or couldn't he? There was one sure way to find out which (if any) of the legends were true. But what if making love to a vampire meant that she would get killed in the process? Would it be worth it? <> she thought wickedly, and then quietly laughed to herself. She had never known a man yet who was worth dying for. She still couldn't understand why he had pulled away from her. Maybe he wasn't attracted to *her* but instead was just feeling the effects of being drawn to the blood of living prey. Maybes again! But hadn't he said he resolved to never take another life? Didn't he exist solely on that bottled cow's blood? And wouldn't that have been a reason for him to pull away to his attraction for her blood? How strong was a vampire's resolve when it came to choosing between cold bovine blood and warm, living, breathing, human female blood, with perhaps a little sex thrown in to make it even more interesting? She believed that if she played it right, she could convince him to at least not kill her and at most to make her into a vampire. To her, it would be the epitome of power and strength. They had the ability to walk among their prey unnoticed. They could do whatever they wanted: build fortunes, destroy enemies, affect the future of mankind. Such power she had always dreamed of possessing. Who wouldn't want it? And so what if it meant giving up daylight and capuccino? The main reason she invested so much time in exploring all the old legends about vampires was that she had always believed that such creatures really existed. She had always hoped one day to meet one. Now she was living with the proof! But there must be others! She hoped that Nick's master would come soon, or perhaps even the Enforcers. That might be too much danger to wish for, but she longed to see other vampires and learn what she could about them. She knew they couldn't all be as nice as Nick, but still she wanted desperately to know all she could about them. And besides, his being nice also meant he was weak, at least in her opinion. He was not your typical vampire, according to the legends. If he was so determined not to make her into a vampire, maybe one of the others would. Should she want him for her master if he was weak and had so much self-doubt and hatred for what he was? There must be others who were stronger and more confident. But then she had a rather scarey thought: what if the others would instantly kill her without waiting to hear Nick's explanation of events or his wishes that her memory be erased? And what if they could erase her memory? Then would Nick let her go? <> she suddenly thought. <> She suddenly felt physically ill. <> *()*()*()*() Lacroix came soaring in over the Toronto skyline with a sense of homecoming and perhaps even a little sense of foreboding. He had not meant to return here so soon. It was his intention to stay away from Nicholas for at least a year, perhaps more. When he received the e-mail asking for help, however, he did not hesitate to answer the call. He had been in New Orleans, had meant to stay there until after All Hallows Eve. New Orleans was so festive at that time of year, in its own way, and he hadn't been there in decades. But when one of the brood was in need, he always came to their aid. On that they knew they could depend. However difficult he may have made their lives -- with good cause, of course -- he was always a solicitous father to all his children. And Nicholas was especially dear to him and always had been. He landed softly on Nicholas' roof and instantly knew there was a mortal in the apartment. His anger made his head spin; he thought at first that it might be Natalie and that somehow all his work was undone. But then upon listening to her thoughts -- indeed, it was a woman -- he knew it was not Natalie. He picked up the snippets of her thoughts that he needed to construct the story of why she was there. The drug deal...the man she had killed...her resistance...Nick's belief that he (Lacroix) could erase her memories. She had asked Nicholas to bring her across and he had, of course, refused her. Fascinating! Predictable. Just then he saw her walking down the stairs. He couldn't get a good look at her from up on the roof, but he decided he would wait a while and watch her and "listen" to her thoughts. She stopped to turn on the stereo on her way to the kitchen. The soft jazz rather interfered with Lacroix's concentration, but not nearly so much as when she began to sway gently to the music. She danced very smoothly. Very smoothly indeed. Now she was moving to the kitchen and making a pot of tea. He realized then how cold he was. It was always cold flying so fast as he had tonight. He had not meant to rush and so had taken two nights to fly to Toronto from New Orleans. It takes a great deal of energy to fly so far in one night, and even one so old and powerful as he must stop to feed and rest. The farther north he flew, the colder it was, of course. He could see the fire blazing cheerily in the fireplace and he longed to warm himself by it. He lifted the pane on the skylight and dropped soundlessly into the apartment. *()*()*()*() Christine felt a sudden draft and she shivered. She took her mug of nice hot tea and started for the work room to find another of Nick's old books. She almost didn't see the man standing by the fireplace, but when she did, she dropped her tea. The mug shattered as it hit the floor and some of the hot tea splashed her pant legs. She really didn't notice it, though; she was captivated by the man. He was standing there silhouetted against the firelight. He was dressed all in black: long black overcoat, black shirt and pants, black shoes. The coat appeared to be lightly dusted with ice or snow, and a little steam was beginning to rise from it as the heat from the fire evaporated the moisture. His hair was a very light brown and very short in a military crew-cut style. He was about 6ft2 and appeared to be very well built. His face was pale and the skin appeared smooth as ivory. His eyes! He had the most captivating crystal blue eyes she had ever seen, very expressive brows and full, sensual lips. He was without a doubt the most remarkable-looking man she had ever seen in her life. "Good evening," he half-whispered. His voice was smooth and low, very resonant. Christine was awe-struck. She couldn't speak and she couldn't seem to move, either. <> He curled one corner of his lips into a slight sneer. "Certainly not!" It was just as if he was responding to her unspoken question. <> Christine could only think it, as she still had not regained her speech. "Actually, it is considered rude to read one's thoughts without permission. And so, if you like, I will discontinue to do so." "If you please, sir. That would be ... very considerate of you." Lacroix thought that her voice sounded like little tinkling bells--not that it was high-pitched (quite the contrary), but it was extremely musical. And he was impressed by the way she had addressed him. How melodic a voice and how stunning a woman! As she had been taking him in, so had he been studying every detail of her. She was without a doubt the most remarkable-looking mortal woman he had seen in centuries. Hardly more than a girl, actually. Her form and bearing were straight and strong. She stood about 5ft4 with a well-rounded figure. She had shoulder length dark-brown hair peppered with strands of gold. Her hair was straight and smooth, and she wore it down, the way he liked it. She was wearing jeans, a knit shirt, - a henley, he believed they were called - and sneakers. He could not say she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but she was without a doubt strikingly handsome. Her heart-shaped face was a bit angular, but it would have been softened by putting on a few pounds. Her deep-set eyes were an intriguing color of green-grey, which he could not recall ever having seen before. Her lips were full and perhaps a little pouty, but delightfully so, and though he suspected she wore no paint on them, they were somewhat ruby-colored. "You must be Lacroix. My name is Christine." She saw him frown ever so slightly and a little shockwave went through her. She had insulted or angered him somehow. Talk about first impressions! She had already screwed this up. "Please, let me take your coat. It looks wet." She walked towards him slowly and he showed no signs of being offended by these overtures. In fact, he slipped off the coat and handed it to her. It was very cold and wet. "Is there something I can get you to help you warm yourself?" She noticed one corner of his lips curve ever so slightly as if to smile. "I mean, perhaps you could find some dry clothes in Nick's room." She hadn't meant to suggest herself as the thing to warm him. "Thank you for your concern. I am fine." Again, that quiet, resounding voice, and such an alluring accent. Christine really hoped she could get him talking. She would love to hear him all night long. "Do you ever take wine? We have a wonderful Cabernet Sauvignon that's about 50 years old. It's very smooth." Lacroix was more than a little concerned at how she said "we have," as if she and Nicholas had set up housekeeping together. Could it be they were lovers? He had not read that in her thoughts. Surely that was not the case, he would have sensed it. Or seen some evidence of it. No, he did not believe -- did not want to believe -- it was true. "Perhaps a small glass," he replied, "if you warm it for me slightly." She smiled and turned from him to go to the kitchen. Some moments can surely be frozen in time in our memories. That moment when she smiled was one such for the ancient vampire. Even after she was in the kitchen, he could still "see" her standing there smiling at him, with the light dancing in her eyes. He knew it was a moment he would never forget. He was the consummate observer, after all, always watching for actions and reactions in everyone. He would observe unseen, sometimes for many nights. He had done this before making himself known to Janette, to Nicholas, and many others. And yet here he was only moments after first setting eyes on this girl, making light conversation with her and having her fetch him a glass of wine. It suited his mood to do this, and so he did it. She was different, this one. Something about her touched his heart. This was a sensation which he had not felt in a very very long time. And yet the game was different with her. She knew who and what he was and was not repelled by it. She was polite and respectful, and he admired that. This would be interesting. She returned with his wine, then excused herself to go mop up the spilled tea and pick up the broken mug. She returned with a little glass of the wine for herself. He noticed that she had cut herself slightly, presumably on the broken mug. He could smell the blood and it drew him to her. "You've cut yourself," he said, and he held out his hand to her. "It's nothing. Just clumsy." She held up her cut finger, thinking nothing of it. He took her hand in his and drew it towards his lips, as if to kiss it better. Then, realizing he was being a bit forward, he asked, "May I?" "Yes," was all she could manage in a breathy whisper. He put the cut finger in his mouth and sucked, tasting her blood. <> he thought. He closed his eyes to savor the moment. Christine thought she would swoon or ... something. This simple gesture was quite possibly the most erotic thing she had ever experienced! She felt that she was being drawn into him. She felt hot and cold all over. Wave after delicious wave of arousal washed over her. She wanted this to go on forever, wanted it to go farther, but it was all over already! He had withdrawn her digit from his mouth, given it one last sensual lick of his tongue. He gave her a slight smile, and went to sit in the armchair. She glanced down at her hand and noticed the cut was healed. She was left standing there by the fire, swaying uncertainly and her head was reeling from the encounter. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:34 1996 Date: Fri, 29 Nov 1996 21:49:40 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (10a/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 10a After a few moments, she realized she wasn't breathing. She took a deep breath and the pulse started pounding at her temples, making her a little more dizzy than she already was. She took a step or two towards the sofa and Lacroix turned his head to watch her. "May I sit with you?" she asked him tentatively. He answered by gesturing her towards the sofa. She sat in the middle, not meaning to be too forward or too distant by taking either end. She was afraid she was doing all the wrong things, violating every protocol. She didn't know the rules to this encounter, but she decided to just put on her best manners and do the best she could. If she screwed up too badly, it could mean her life -- or rather, her death! He raised his glass to her as if in a silent toast. To her health? She hoped so, and so she raised her glass in return. "Tell me how it is that you came to be here, Christine." He had of course read quite a bit of it in her thoughts, but there were gaps he needed to have filled in. Besides, he found her somewhat intriguing and her company would undoubtedly be a welcome distraction. She decided to start her story the night before the drug deal, to explain how she came to be involved. She wasn't sure how much he had read in her thoughts and how much would interest him. She tried to stick straight to the facts and be very concise. This man might have an eternity, but she felt certain he wouldn't want her to waste his time. She glanced at him from time to time as she was speaking and his eyes were always on her. She felt a little disconcerted by this because she couldn't read his expression. He seemed neither bored nor particularly interested by her story, so far as she could tell. His eyes moved over her, watching even her slightest movement. Occasionally he took a sip of his wine. Looking at him rattled her concentration because she found him so exotic-looking, and so beautiful. She wondered where he came from. His accent sounded British, and though she wasn't very good at determining nationalities, she didn't really believe that was it. His skin looked smooth and very pale. Unlike hers and that of most other people, it appeared there were no flaws and no scars on his face or his hands. She wanted very much to touch his face, just to see what it felt like. She remembered the touch of his hands -- so smooth and cold. His eyes! Oh, his eyes -- remarkably clear and icy blue like sparkling crystal pools in winter. She could sense a powerful presence about him and she found it very compelling. She told him everything -- about Randy, about the man she killed, about asking Nicholas to make her into a vampire and his absolute refusal. She told him of Nicholas' hopes that he would be able to erase her mind. Then she told him her fear that Nick meant to take her to jail for killing the man if the erasure was successful. "Please, sir, don't do that to me." She scooted across the sofa to get closer to him. Don't take this knowledge from me *and* allow him to put me in jail. I would rather die. I have been looking for your kind all my life, believing that you existed. And now through this tragic series of blunders I have found you! And the knowledge of your existence threatens my life. I would rather die with that knowledge than to lose it and my freedom. " She felt very bold to do it, but she reached out and put her hand on his knee. He raised one eyebrow slightly but said nothing, so she left it there. "I want YOU to make me into a vampire. I can sense your power, and I know now how weak Nick is. I know I was wrong to ask him. If it does not suit you to make me a vampire, then feed on me and let me die. But I want YOU to do it." He registered no reaction whatsoever to this reasoning. He just watched her, looking straight into her eyes. "Please, if you would, read my thoughts about this. I am sincere in my desire to become like you." Again, no reaction. Her heart beat faster. She was getting scared that he meant to kill her, that perhaps he saw that as a better answer to the dilemma. <> she thought as she took a deep breath to try and calm herself, <> He read all this in her thoughts. He continued to look at her for another few moments, then he rose from the chair and went to stand by the fire again. He stood there watching her still, and she tried to stay calm. "You think you know what I am," he spoke finally, in a half-whisper. "A vampire," she replied hopefully. He scoffed, "Hmmmph. So it is, but do you know what that means?" She stared at him, a puzzled look on her face. She lowered her eyes, "The legends say..." "I don't care what the legends say!" His voice boomed. "I *know* what the legends say. What do YOU say it means?" She looked deep into his eyes, her lips slightly parted with shock at his tone. He appeared to be very angry, his nostrils were flared and his crystal blue eyes were glassy. And yet somehow she found the courage to answer him. "It means you have the power," she whispered, paused, then continued. "Power ... that I would kill or die for." He raised one brow and slowly countered, "Yes, but would you sell your soul for it?" "What is a soul?" she smirked. "I don't believe I have one. Or if I do I would gladly sell or trade it for another. The one I have is totally fucked up." He knew she believed this was the truth. Her pain was in her heart and her thoughts like a living thing. He felt he could almost reach out and hold it in the palm of his hand. <> he thought. And in this notion, he felt amazement of himself. Could it be ... did he ... was he beginning to ... care ... for this creature?!? He took a deep breath, held his shoulders a little straighter and raised his chin, to make himself appear as tall and stern as possible. "I do not like that word!" his voice boomed, changing the subject. "You will NOT use that word with me." She lowered her head and her eyes, and timidly replied, "Yes, sir. Forgive me, please." <> he thought. <> *()*()*()*() Christine sat cowering on the sofa for a moment, on the verge of tears. She believed she had said and done everything wrong. Surely he meant to kill her, maybe right now. She was so scared, so confused. He was so beautiful and powerful. How could he hate her so much? In her experience, most men liked her. Even if she didn't want them to. Especially then! But, of course, he was not like most men. The "men in her experience" were mostly customers of her mother. They had raped her. Her mother couldn't save her. Wouldn't stop them. Why wouldn't she stop them? Christine had been too young to stop them herself. Too weak. Too helpless. She never would admit that she herself was a prostitute. She never asked for it. Never received any money. She knew her mother did, though. She remembered one man in particular, leaving the apartment, handing her mother a hundred dollar bill. "I almost forgot," he had said, looking straight at Christine. "Here's for the extra." Then he winked at Christine, blew her a kiss and left. This bastard had beaten her and badly used her. Then he had the nerve to wink! Christine had run to the bathroom and thrown up. It made her sick to her stomach to see what he thought she was. She had jumped in the shower and scrubbed herself for a very long time. She had never felt so filthy. She was only 14 at the time. She had run away after that. But she came back a few days later. Where can you run to when you're 14! Her mother had cried with joy to see her, had promised her that things would change. ((We'll leave this town. I'll get sober, get a job. Things will be better. You'll see.)) That night it had been another man and another party, and all the plans had disappeared in whatever they were smoking. She determined then that she would use sex as a sort of weapon. She couldn't change the game so she would change the rules. Tease and tantalize and make them beg. Cry and plead with them not to hurt her, like in some melodrama. They loved it. The drama of it. Some of them enjoyed the pain more than the sex. Turn them away and they only wanted her more. Would sacrifice anything to have her. And she would use their desire to cause them more pain. She had learned a lot in the process. Not to particularly love or hate men, just how to manipulate them to get what she wanted. She decided she would try this on the vampire. She got up slowly from the sofa and started slinking over to where Lacroix was standing. She would do what she could to arouse his interest in her sexually, if that was possible with a vampire. She was treading unknown ground in that regard, but he had been a man once, after all. She knew that talking had gotten her nowhere. She would try this now. Lacroix sensed what her intentions were and he felt both anticipation and disappointment. This approach by her was regrettably predictable. He had hoped she would be more creative. But then, he hoped it would be interesting to see just how creative she could make this approach. She walked straight to him and stopped about a foot away. She looked up into his eyes and she saw him looking down at her with no expression whatsoever on his face. This was unsettling, but it did not discourage her. She knew already that he was very reserved. Like a powder keg. But given the right spark... She slowly reached out her hands and placed them softly on his arms just below the elbows and felt the muscles under the silk shirt. Walking her fingers slowly up his arms, lightly pinching and tracing each muscle, firmly gripping his shoulder and massaging the muscles there. Across the trapezius, feeling tension there, and now massaging more deeply. Lacroix winced slightly and drew in his breath when she hit a particularly tight muscle there and another one at the base of his skull. He was enjoying the way this felt, even the painful part. It was a delicious kind of hurt and he made a mental note to let her give him a real massage later. She walked slowly around behind him and worked her hands down his spine, pressing in with her thumbs to deeply massage the muscles there and in the small of his back. He was quite muscular, which surprised her. She wasn't sure why it was so surprising. Why shouldn't a vampire be so powerfully built? It was always difficult to tell exactly how muscular a man was while he still had his shirt on. She took her time exploring his back. She was enjoying this more than she thought she would! The only man she had ever given a massage was old Mr. Beauchamp, to relieve his arthiritis. And, at 80, he was no comparison. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:36 1996 Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 20:53:30 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (10b/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 10b This chapter contains some heavy petting. I think it's still PG-13, but consider yourself alerted. (And have fun ;-) He turned to face her suddenly, apparently impatient. Perhaps he didn't like it! It could be he had a different idea about what she should be massaging. Once again, his expression was impossible for her to read. He grabbed her firmly at the waist and drew her to him. It sent shivers up and down her body. She closed her eyes and sharply drew in her breath. Then she opened her eyes and smiled at him. He gave the slightest of smiles in return. She moved her hands across his chest, lightly working his deltoids and pectorals. His chest was very powerful. He watched every move she made and occasionally she would look up at his face and his eyes would meet hers. His hands were moving up her sides, gripping and kneading along her ribs. Painful tickles increasing her desire. Moving her hands to the back of his neck, at the base of the skull. He closed his eyes to savor the sensation. Then, suddenly, she pulled his head down slightly and reached up and kissed him on one corner of his mouth. He drew his head back and opened his eyes, startled by her action. She was looking up at him with an inviting look in her eyes, and she was breathing quickly and shallowly, caressing his cheeks now with both her hands, pressing her body tightly to him. He decided to let her have her way with him -- for now. He smiled quickly and it was just as quickly gone. He kissed her softly on one corner of her mouth, mimicking her kiss. She smiled slightly, glad to have his unspoken permission to continue. She was enjoying touching him, being allowed to feel his smooth face, slightly cool, a tiny wrinkle or two. She could detect no trace of beard. Most men had a little whiskers, even right after shaving. Then she reminded herself again he was not "most men". With her fingertips she lightly traced every contour of his face. She applied pressure at some points: the temple, where the jaw hinges, on the brow bones above the eyes, at the tops of his ears. She appeared to be quite familiar with pressure points that relieve stress, and Lacroix found this sensory experience very relaxing and yet on another level very stimulating. Occasionally she would kiss him lightly on the cheek, on the eyelids, on the ear, and he would return her kisses. He was firmly rubbing her back from trapezius to waist, occasionally kneading the muscles here and there, mimicking her technique. He did not intend to make love to her tonight. He was enjoying this, but he did not want it to get out of hand. Since he would not take over the role of the aggressor, Christine decided to get a little more aggressive in her approach. Besides, she was getting turned on. This was also an unusual sensation for her, but one she found very appealing. She had never had anyone appear so disinterested in her love-making before. She had often wished this were the case, but now she wanted him to want her, and he was still very aloof. Christine raised up on her tiptoes because he was so tall, nibbling first one earlobe and then the other. His reaction was neutral. This was maddening for her! Lacroix actually was enjoying this intensely. He sensed the girl's confusion and frustration and that added to the pleasure he was feeling at her touch. He was determined not to react just to see what her next tactic would be. Christine whispering in his ear now, "Don't you want me?" Tickling inside his ear with her tongue. Rapid breathing, breathy whispers, meant to entice. These sensations were really beginning to move Lacroix as well. He had not done this sort of thing in so long ... well, he couldn't remember how long it had been. He was having a little trouble thinking at all because he was enjoying her love-making so much. He was delighted that she could move him so and he knew he might have a challenge to control himself if she continued to stimulate him in this manner. Then, quite unexpectedly, she put her hand on the back of his head and pulled it hard towards her and bit him on the neck! Lacroix gasped! This was so sudden and unexpected he couldn't control his reaction. The neck is quite understandably one of the vampire's most erogenous zones, and this touched him to the core. He pulled his head up and he was breathing hard. He looked into her eyes, he swallowed hard, and gave her the faintest of smiles. Christine was delighted to have finally hit the mark, so to speak. His reaction caused an equal reaction in her. She smiled broadly back at him. She sensed that he felt some surprise at his own reaction, and she was thrilled by that. She tried to bite him again, but he wouldn't allow it this time. "No," he whispered firmly, and shook his head. She thought that perhaps he meant it wasn't time for this yet, that maybe the foreplay wasn't over. Again, not knowing the rules, learning them as she went along, was proving to be more than a little stressful for Christine, but she knew she was equal to the challenge. Pulling him closer, resting her cheek against his chest, moving her hands down his back, pulling him tightly to her. Just at that moment she kissed him hard on the lips. He returned her kiss and her embrace with equal pressure. He was in spite of himself enjoying this playfulness more than he thought he would. Christine continued kissing his lips, licking at them, trying to part them so she could explore his mouth with her tongue. She didn't generally kiss on the lips, especially french-kiss, but she was so turned on by his touch and her desire to arouse him that she was pulling out all the stops. She also moved her hands down onto his buttocks and pulled him firmly towards her. Lacroix was going beyond feeling playful. This girl was taking his breath away. She made him feel things he hadn't felt in decades -- no, centuries. He generally did not allow himself to be with a mortal in this way. He had let himself forget how seductive they could be. He wondered now, when it was that he had made such a stupid decision. As Christine kneaded his butt and pulled him closer to her, she rocked her hips a little, rubbing against him to stimulate him to take more action. She wanted him now so desperately that she felt her heart would explode. She was having trouble getting her breath, and her head was spinning. She had never been so turned on before with all her clothes on. And only once or twice with no clothes on! She was breathing hard, her whole body writhing and she kissed him again long and hard on the lips. She pulled his tongue into her mouth, sucking on it playfully. Exploring his mouth with her tongue. Tickling the roof of his mouth, the gums behind his front teeth. She thought she felt the sharpness of his fangs, and when she touched them she heard him utter a low, growling moan. She pressed her tongue hard onto one of the fangs, trying to pierce it so she could give him a little of her blood. That would undoubtedly excite him more. She couldn't tell if it worked, but she couldn't taste blood. She couldn't concentrate on any one thing right now. Her brain just wouldn't work, she was too intent on making him want her. And he just ... didn't ... seem to get the hint! She had never had to work so hard to arouse a man's desire. Usually it was quite the opposite; do it and be done, just to get away from them. She thought she would die from desire if he didn't get busy real soon, so she tried one last thing. She reached her hand down to caress his genitals. He drew away from her and quickly grabbed her hand away. "DO NOT ... do that!" he said, breathing hard. Then he gently caressed her face and whispered. "Don't ever touch me there. I know you don't understand, just ... don't do it." Christine was so shocked she wanted to cry. She wrinkled up her brow in confusion. She was breathing hard and making little moaning noises. She didn't know what to say. "But ... well ... I'm so sorry. I didn't ... mean ... Tell me what to do. I want to please you, and I want you ... so ... so much. She was caressing his face again, kissing his lips, trying to explore there with her tongue again. He drew back from her. He moved his eyes across her face, trying to cool her passions. He grabbed both her hands and held them at his chest. He had not wanted it to go this far. He had gotten carried away and careless. He bent down and kissed her gently on the neck and she gasped loudly, pulling him close to her again by reflex. He kissed each hand, taking a step back from her, setting a distance. "I never meant to insult, sir, to do anything wrong," she apologized, so afraid that she had again made a terrible blunder with him that she wouldn't be able to repair. "Please forgive me if I..." He put his index finger lightly against her lips to quiet her, much as Randy had done, it occurred to her with a sense of *deja vu*. He looked deeply into her eyes and said, "There is much you do not know, *ma chere*" [my dear] And then he smiled a little half-smile at her. <> he added in his thoughts. Christine was still visibly upset and he could see tears forming in her eyes. He lightly pinched her chin between his thumb and the side of his index finger, and raised her head. She would not look into his eyes, and he could sense that she felt shame for whatever she had done wrong. "You have done nothing wrong, Christine," he said, cupping her jaw in the palm of his hand, rubbing her cheek gently with his thumb. She then turned her eyes to look into his. He gave her as tender a look as he could at that moment, and a slight smile. "You simply do not understand ... yet." She closed her eyes tight and a tear escaped from under each eyelid. "Teach me, please," she pleaded silently, looking up into his eyes, hers brimming with tears. He kissed her firmly in the space between her eyebrows and then he walked her back to the sofa and sat her down. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:38 1996 Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 20:53:35 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (11/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 11 As Nick pulled the Caddy into the garage, he sensed that Lacroix was nearby. He hurried to take the elevator up to the loft, afraid of what he might find when he arrived. As he opened the elevator door, he saw Lacroix standing by the fire and Christine seated on the sofa. He felt instantly relieved. They both turned to look at him as he entered the room. He sensed that there had been an encounter of some kind before he arrived. He scanned Christine's thoughts and had his suspicions confirmed. He was a bit shocked but not too terribly surprised by this. After all, Christine knew what she wanted and apparently knew how to go about getting it. Or at least she thought she knew. "Lacroix! *Bienvenue. Ca fait plaisir de vous voir.*" Nick smiled, speaking to his Master in French. [Welcome, it's a pleasure to see you.] "*Trouble, Nicola*?" Lacroix replied, also in French. "*Tu as une situation, n'est-ce pas?*" [You have a situation, isn't that so?] "So it seems," Nick replied. "We need to talk." Lacroix raised one eyebrow and replied broadly, "Yes, ... we most certainly do." Nick walked over to Christine, handing her a take-out carton. "I got you some dinner. I hope you like souvlaki. I have it on good authority that this is the best in Ontario." She smiled, taking the carton from him. "Pardon, messieurs, mais je parle un peu francais." [Pardon me, gentlemen, but I speak a little French.] They both looked at her, somewhat shocked that she spoke so fluently. She smiled at them both very sweetly, then continued, by way of explanation "I lived in Montreal for a little over a year. And Quebec City for a while also. If you intend to decide my fate, I would prefer to leave the room. Just tell me please when it's all done." Lacroix was amused at her comment. He smiled ever so slightly at her manner and bearing. Considering that she believed her life or death was about to be decided, she appeared remarkably calm and in control. He admired that. Her posture was one of a champion, not a victim. <> he found himself thinking it once again. Nicholas noticed that Lacroix seemed to be impressed with the girl. And then Lacroix saw Nick watching him watching the girl. Lacroix slightly raised one brow and tilted his head slightly back as if in a challenge to Nicholas. ((What do you intend to do about it?)) he sent telepathically to Nick. Nick just half shook his head and turned away. There was nothing he could do -- not really. Christine thought she could feel their eyes watching her as she walked away. She decided it was best not to look back, that it might be construed as begging, though it took every ounce of her courage not to run to them screaming and crying and begging. The die was cast. There was nothing she could do now. She did hesitate a moment on the landing, then continued up the stairs. *()*()*()*() Christine felt like she was on auto-pilot, walking mechanically down the hallway to her room. She went in and shut the door, setting the take-out carton and the wine on the dresser. She was not in the least hungry. She sat on the edge of the bed, not knowing whether to scream or cry. Mostly, she just felt numb, scared to allow herself to feel anything. So much had happened to her in the last few days, it was all like a dream. She grabbed the pillow and hugged it to her chest, trying not to think about what was being said downstairs. She laid back on the bed, still clutching the pillow, and stared at the ceiling. This was an old technique she used for blanking her mind -- stare at the ceiling letting it go into and out of focus. If you stared at it long enough, it began to resemble the lunar surface. Just a trick of the light and the eye muscles, but it was very effective in zoning yourself out of the here and now, and into the nowhere, which is a much better place at times. By and by she dozed a little (or something like a doze -- perhaps a vision?), and in it she saw Lacroix. He was there, silhouetted against the firelight. She walked to him and put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply and passionately on the lips. She looked into his eyes and saw that they were golden. He opened his mouth slightly and she saw his fangs. She kissed him again, and he allowed her tongue to caress and investigate his fangs. She heard his breathing quicken, as did hers. Their kisses continued with more urgency until he pulled away from her lips and began to nuzzle her neck, her breasts. Her breathing was more and more rapid and she made little gasping noises from the intense excitement she was feeling. She saw him bare his fangs and she laid back her head, exposing her neck for the taking. He sank the razor-sharp fangs into the flesh of her neck and ... She woke with her pulse racing. So, it was only a dream! Wow! It might not be such a bad way to die, if it was anything like this little fantasy. And then again, it might be a very excellent way to live! She hoped she hadn't slept through her sentencing. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:41 1996 Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 20:53:38 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (12/26) Additional credits: In this seg, I have a flashback to Be My Valentine in which I quote some of the scenes. Credits and thanks to the author of the script. No copyright violation intended. (Thanks to LisaP for transcribing. ;-) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 12 As soon as they heard the girl's door close, Lacroix spoke, accusingly. "She knew my name." "Well, yes, I told her I have hopes that..." "A rather minor violation of the Code, I suppose. What else have you told her about me? About us?" "Only a little," Nick replied, surprised that Lacroix would cite the Code to him, the ancient rules for vampire behaviour. Lacroix had pulled his own "minor violations" many times and now he meant to accuse Nick? Lacroix gave Nick a look that would melt ice. "Are you certain?" "Quite certain." The Ancient Vampire came and stood very close to Nick and looked down into his eyes. Nick hated when he towered over him like this. He could see Lacroix's eyes were flecked slightly with gold, gleaming with the firelight and the light of his anger. "I assure you, Nicholas, you have *not* made my task any easier ... IF I decide to attempt it. As you well know, it is far easier to erase one moment in time than it is to erase nights and days of stories about our ... exploits. Especially when it is a topic which apparently holds so much interest for her." Nick considered offering his reasoning that if Christine remembered anything of their so-called exploits, she would probably just chalk it up to some book or story she had read or some movie she had seen. But suddenly, he didn't quite buy it himself. In his defense, he said nothing. He knew Lacroix was right. Lacroix went and sat in the big leather armchair, crossed his legs, and motioned Nick to take a seat on the sofa. "She has told me about what happened. Now I will hear your side of it. And tell me what it is you think I can do to provide a solution to your problem." Nick sat and recounted the story, basically the same as Christine had told it, the only differences were perspective and that he absolutely felt she should not be brought across. It stemmed from his belief that this "life" was not for everyone, and that because she wanted it so much was perhaps the biggest reason she should not be brought across. Nick hesitated a moment, considered what he was about to say, then proceeded. "Before I came in, you and the girl ... were ..." "She was seducing me. What of it?" "You know she is using you, to make you give her what she wants." "Which is?" "Her freedom. Or to become one of us, which she believes would be even better." "Free consent, freely given," Lacroix stated simply. "But what she believes, is what she has seen in movies, read in books -- the glamorized story of the vampire. We both know there is far more to it -- and far less -- than all that." Lacroix sat with his hands steepled and tapped his chin with his index fingers. At length he spoke, "She thinks you mean to take her to jail for this shooting," Lacroix broached the subject. "Is that so?" "Why, yes. If you are able to erase her memories of us, that is exactly what I will do. She did kill the man! She will have to answer to mortal justice for that killing." "And you have never killed before? In battle? Or in defense of a loved one? Or yourself? Or out of anger and retribution? Or just because you believed someone needed killing? Nicholas," he said with a scolding, taunting tone, "I have seen you kill in every circumstance imaginable. Don't deny it. You can't have her for your mortal justice! She is a natural." Nick stared at him long and hard. It was at times like this that he hated the man. He could not understand him sometimes. He was surely a different breed than Nicholas. Perhaps it was because he was born in another time, or perhaps it was something more than that. Someone had called him evil once. Who was that? Perhaps she was right. She? Why couldn't he remember her? And yet there she was again, insinuating herself into his consciousness -- asking, begging to be remembered. "So you mean to bring her across." It was scarcely more than a whisper as it crossed Nick's lips. And it was a statement more than a question. It is what he had feared and what he had promised himself he would save the girl from. Did he really mean to do battle with his master over this girl? Was she worth it? Of course she was! He had vowed to save lives, not destroy any more. But did she want to be saved? Lacroix looked at Nick and half smiled. "We shall see. I am a bit more judicious in making my choices these days, as you may have noticed." Nick knew exactly what his master meant by this. Lacroix had no desire to make another vampire such as he (Nick) had turned out to be. They had been companions for centuries, their relationship like a roller coaster ride at times. Though Lacroix had in fact brought across numerous mortals, he had not always done so with the intention of making them his companions. Nick feared it would be different with this girl. He had seen the interaction between Lacroix and the girl. He had read in her thoughts what had happened before he had returned and found them together. She would do anything to please him. He had read that in her thoughts, too. She would make herself his perfect companion, if he would allow it. It was not the first time Nick had seen someone fall under his ancient master's spell. Even Nick's own sister, Fleur, had been captivated by Lacroix's charms. Nick's thoughts of Fleur at a time like this surprised him and he was glad that his master did not have the ability to read his mind. So it was with their kind: the master could communicate telepathically with his childer but he in turn could not read their thoughts. Very convenient at times, and just as inconvenient at other times. [Flashback] [1228, Nick's family home in France/Belgium] [from Be My Valentine] Nick finds Fleur with Lacroix in the garden, about to bring her across. He runs to Lacroix and pulls him away, demanding that Fleur see what he is, what she almost became, what he has become. Fleur struggles against Nick and says, "There is no future without Lucien!" Lacroix's head snaps up when he hears her say this. Nick restrains her and says, "This is not right for you." Fleur pushes past Nick and says, "Nicola." She goes to stand in front of Lacroix and he places his hands on her shoulders. "Whose heart do you choose to break, Nicholas?" Lacroix questions him. "Your mother's? Your sister's? Mine?" "For you, this is just another conquest," Nick replies. "Another death to satisfy your craving." "Aren't you a little confused, Nicholas? She is mortal; therefore, she will die and all her beauty will die with her. I can preserve that, forever." Lacroix kisses her hair. She closes her eyes and leans back against his body. Nick speaks, "If you bring her across, she becomes a killer, cold-blooded, her purity annihilated." "Would you rather see this beauty whither to old age and die?" Lacroix counters. "It is the beauty of her innocence you love and that you will destroy with the first taste of her blood. If you truly love Fleur, Lacroix, you won't destroy that. You will NOT." Fleur turns to face Lacroix, who is curling a lock of her hair around his fingers. He then reaches out to cup her face in his hands as he says, "It is a great irony, is it not, that this cold, still heart can feel such pain." He bows his head and kisses her forehead. She hangs on to his wrists as his hands cup her face and she closes her eyes in pain. [Present] [Nick's apartment] Lacroix had actually loved Fleur enough to give her up, to allow her to live out her mortal life, to die a natural death, to spend his eternity without his one true love. Nick was forever grateful for him sparing his sister's immortal soul. Lacroix had only just met this girl. He was intensely attracted to her, of that Nick was certain, but he couldn't be in love with her. Not so soon. The old man was much too cautious for that. Nick had not known Lacroix to be in love with anyone since Fleur. But who could know where this would lead? Lacroix rose from the chair. "Have her pack her things," he ordered Nick. "I will take her to the Raven. You will be relieved of the burden and I will have a chance to get to know her better." Nick rose to his feet as well. "Lacroix, don't do this, please!" The master gave his childe a very severe look. "I *will* do this. It is the best solution. I do not know if I will bring her across or kill her, but you WILL respect my decision, whatever it may be." Lacroix's eyes were once again flecked lightly with gold. He loved to intimidate Nicholas in this way. "You asked for my help," Lacroix continued. "Now you WILL accept it, in whatever form it takes." They stood there for a while. Neither of them was sure of exactly what would come next, but Lacroix was ready for whatever it was to be. Nicholas was too headstrong at times. He lacked respect for his master, and often rebelled at Lacroix's orders. The old Roman General didn't take kindly to this. Granted that sometimes it was a rather endearing trait, but one could not allow the inmates to run the prison, so to speak. ((Go now and tell her to pack!)) Lacroix sent telepathically to Nicholas, looking him squarely in the eyes. Nick returned his unwavering stare and then finally lowered his eyes and turned to go upstairs. Lacroix's lips curved slightly in a smile of triumph. He loved it when Nicholas was submissive and respectful. Perhaps it had something to do with the events of their last encounter. He hadn't consciously intended to make Nicholas more obedient; perhaps it was a happy by-product. When Nick reached the stairs he stopped for a moment, then he turned to Lacroix. "Why didn't you come to the loft that night?" "What are you saying?" Lacroix asked him, acting as if he had no idea what Nick was talking about or where his train of thought had switched tracks. "The last time we saw each other. It was at the Raven. You said you were leaving and I should come with you. You said you would come here later for my decision, but you never came. Why?" "I decided to go on without you. I surmised that your answer would be NO due to loose ends or mortal bonds or some other pathetic excuse *du jour* and so I went. Why should I have to explain my actions to you suddenly? And what does this have to do with the girl?" Nick looked at him for a long moment, then spoke. "I've been remembering things." Lacroix was struck with surprise and shock. His reaction was visible to Nicholas. "Tell me what it is you have done to me. Who is this woman I keep half remembering? What does it all mean?" Lacroix looked him straight in the eyes. He stood there quietly, passively, no expression registering in his countenance, the moment of surprise completely under control now. Then he spoke in that half-whisper that hinted at passion and power about to be unleashed. "You would do well to leave it be, Nicholas." So there was something! He KNEW it! "You have erased my memories of someone, haven't you?" Nick confronted him, revulsion and amazement in his voice and his manner. "Haven't you?!?!?" "YOU DARE TO QUESTION ME!!!!!! I will *>>NOT<<* be held accountable to you!!!" Lacroix's voice echoed and clattered around the room and even shook the windows. Nick could feel the roaring voice rattle his bones and it hurt his ears. He had never seen Lacroix so angry. There was definitely something that had been done that Lacroix did not want him to know about. Nick turned toward his Master to question him further, but just at that moment he saw a blur as Lacroix took to the air. Nick looked up and saw the skylight slamming down as his master soared off into the darkness. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:46 1996 Date: Sun, 1 Dec 1996 22:03:00 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (13/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 13 Nick was left there alone with a feeling of complete impotence. He wanted to grab the man and beat a full confession from him, to learn the truth about what had been done to him by his master, but the master was gone. Nick remembered hearing of vampires erasing other vampires' memories. It was rare and very difficult to accomplish. A vampire must be very old and powerful to achieve it, as was Lacroix. But it was still more difficult with one of your own line, as Nick was to Lacroix. But then Nick thought of the missing two days, and it all began to make sense. In that time, Lacroix must have hidden him away and done whatever had been necessary to erase Nick's memories of -- her. Nick still could not remember who "she" was, but now that he had this much of the puzzle, he believed that he would be able to piece the rest of it together as well. Until Christine came here, he really didn't have a clue that anything had been done to him. But her presence had caused him to start remembering. Maybe he would have eventually begun to remember on his own. Maybe not. Perhaps for that reason alone he owed Christine her life and her freedom. Nick suddenly found himself in the hallway just outside Christine's door. He had no recollection of going there, but he tapped gently. Christine answered it a moment later. He thought she was quite pale and he believed that her eyes were a bit red, as if she had been crying. She gave him a questioning look. "He's gone. We argued, as you probably heard. Not uncommon for us," Nick explained. "Please come downstairs if you like. I doubt he will return here tonight." She still stared at him, unanswered questions in her eyes. "Nothing was decided about you, I'm afraid," Nick lied. "We got into personal business. I'm sorry." Christine's eyes fell away from Nick and she shut the door without saying a word. Nick thought he could "hear" an unspoken curse or two. He supposed he really couldn't blame her. It was her life after all, and he had just let her believe she wasn't important enough for them to give her the consideration she deserved. He went back downstairs but he had no particular destination in mind. He wandered about aimlessly then suddenly went straight to the desk. He opened and searched every drawer. He wasn't certain what he was looking for, but he did have a feeling he would find something there. After going through every scrap of paper and finding nothing, he ran up the stairs to his bedroom. He searched every drawer for the mystery item -- again, nothing. Then he went through every jacket in the closet, searching every pocket, then the pants. Nothing! He felt driven to he-knew-not what end, and so he kept on looking. Then he was back downstairs in the work room going through books and sketches, in the piano bench looking through all the sheet music. Suddenly he realized he was sweating profusely and there were even blood-tears in his eyes. The blood-sweat and -tears made him suddenly uncomfortable and made him feel unclean. He thought he might lose his mind if he couldn't find this unknown link to the past. He couldn't explain what had come over him. Then suddenly he heard Christine's voice behind him. "Nick, is this what you're looking for?" She was standing across the room, holding out something to him. He moved slowly towards her, as if in slow motion, and took the photograph from her. "I found it in one of your books I was reading." He held it gently in his hand as if it was made of spun sugar and would dissolve if he held it too tightly. He looked at the photo for a long moment with no recognition. Then, suddenly, pieces of remembering began to come to him. The photo was of himself and a woman with a round face and a long, full mane of curly golden-brown hair. She had heart-shaped lips and deep brown eyes. And he had loved her terribly, desperately. And Lacroix had taken that from him! He could remember that he had loved her, but he could no longer feel the love. And he ached with the pain of the loss. And he burned with anger at having been robbed. He stared at the photo in his hands as Christine stood and watched mutely. She could sense the anguish he must be feeling, and she knew enough to stay away and not intrude. His appearance startled yet intrigued her: his face dotted with drops of blood sweat, his eyes red with his blood tears. A bloody tear was working its way down his cheek, leaving a watery red track. He turned and walked away, saying nothing. Then suddenly he flew up through the skylight and away into the early morning sky. *()*()*()*() Christine made herself busy cleaning up the debris that Nick had left when he tossed the apartment looking for the photograph. She didn't know why she bothered, but it helped pass the time. It also helped her work off a little of the anger she was feeling towards Nick and Lacroix. Their negligence of what to do with her made her feel ignored, invisible, unimportant -- all those things she had felt since she was a kid. Those feelings she had also encountered many times since she had left her mother. She did not always want to be the center of attention, but she HATED to be ignored. She didn't know the situation between Nick and Lacroix; Nick hadn't really spoken much of his master. Apparently they had some old baggage they needed to throw about which took priority over her circumstances. So why should she mind! She had a roof and a bed. And she had never had so much to eat. (Too much, in fact.) Why not just enjoy? Even her attempt at rationalizing pissed her off. <> She was just pitching tonight's uneaten dinner into the garbage when she noticed it getting light outside. Nick had never stayed out this late. She knew he couldn't tolerate daylight, so where was he? "Dammit!" she said out loud to herself. "So now you're going to start worrying about him? What the fuck is your problem?" She went and pouted on the couch for a while, trying to figure out why she was feeling the way she was. She replayed current developments in her mind: What was the conflict between Lacroix and Nick? Where did she stand with Lacroix? With Nick? Were vampires always so inconsiderate? Who was the woman in the photo with Nick? Why had he been crazily tossing the apartment looking for it? Was he losing his mind? She had read about that sometimes happening to vampires, and besides he never drank human blood. There had to be something wrong with that, right? That would be like a mortal human eating nothing but tofu all the time. That would make anybody crazy -- not enough nourishment for the old gray cells! Maybe Nick had just gone off the edge. Maybe he intended to destroy himself, like that vamp in the book she had read. He flew into the sun to try and kill himself. It hadn't killed him, though; he had woken up buried under the desert sands. Apparently his vampire physique had taken over and saved him when he blacked out from the pain. And why should she care about Nick, anyway? *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:48 1996 Date: Sun, 1 Dec 1996 22:03:04 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (14/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 14 Just then she heard the skylight slam down and saw Nick was standing in front of the fire. "You guys really do move fast!" she said in greeting. He didn't reply. He just stood there apparently warming himself. She noticed there was something different about him. He had some color to his face! His eyes were glimmering, not with gold, but with some other kind of light. "Are you okay?" she asked him, wondering what had happened. "I was a little concerned about you because it's nearly dawn. And I was kind of mad at myself, too, for being concerned. I mean after all..." "I lied to you before." He had her full attention now. She walked over to the fire to stand near him, but not too near. "What do you mean?" "We did talk about you. He means to take you with him and 'get to know you better', as he put it. He may bring you across or he may kill you. He said there is nothing I can do to stop him." He looked deep into her eyes. "He was wrong." Christine was confused. She didn't understand everything he was saying. Before she could ask him to slow down and explain it better, he continued. "We can exist on the blood of animals, but it makes us weak. I chose the blood of cattle -- tranquil, serene, slow-moving, peaceful cattle. I hoped to take the best of their traits into myself by their blood, to calm my blood lust. Perhaps I've been taking their blood for too long. It has made me weak. I cannot fight him until I make myself strong again." He was pacing now. "I realized tonight that he has done to me what I would have him do to you. He erased my memory -- a memory of someone who is very precious to me. Or she was." "The woman in the picture," Christine said. "Yes, and though I can remember now that I loved her I still cannot remember her name and I do not know where to find her. I do not even know if she still lives. He may have killed her. If he erased my memory of her, it would make sense that he would leave no loose ends. He couldn't have me running into her on the street and remembering. Then all his work would be undone. I'm sure it took him one hell of an effort to pull it off. It's almost unheard of to erase the memory of one of your line. And yet he has done it. Well, you don't live to be nearly 2000 without becoming extremely powerful. And I've always known he had up his sleeve a few tricks more than he would ever teach me." <> Christine thought. That was incredible! Imagine anyone truly that old! In Anne Rice's *Queen of the Damned* there were a few even older, but that was a fiction. This was real. How could anyone live for 2000 years? She thought of Mencken's quote about people longing for immortality who can't even occupy themselves on a rainy Sunday. It must take a lot of imagination to stay interested in living so long. He stopped pacing suddenly, came to face her and grabbed her arms firmly, looking straight into her eyes. "I made a kill tonight." His brow wrinkled and he suddenly had a melancholy look of triumph on his face. "The first time in a hundred years I have killed in anger and drunk the blood of my victim. I hated it -- and I loved it. I had forgotten how exhilirating the blood of a mortal can be, especially when he is frightened and you let the fear really pump up the adrenaline level." He released her suddenly, forcefully. "I had to do it so I can be strong again, so I can fight him if it comes to that. He gently took both her hands in his. "I need you to know that I never meant it to come to this for you. I thought I could trust him to do as I asked, no questions. He has done it before -- reluctantly, but he has done it. It was nothing like this, but it was something I humbly asked him to do for me. And he did it for me, because I am his childe." Then he stared deep into her eyes again, "But I hadn't counted on him being so -- enchanted by you. I should have guessed it. After all, you're so beautiful." He was looking deeply into her eyes, holding her close. He felt himself being caught up in the moment. The excitement of the kill he had made and the warm blood coursing through his veins were sensations he had not felt in far too long. Suddenly his desire to protect her was swept away by a desire to possess her. He continued holding her close, stroking her arms, her back, gazing deeply into her eyes, running his hands through her hair, tenderly brushing a fingertip across the contours of her face, her lips, her eyes. ((Enchanted by you))...((you're so beautiful)). The words echoed in Christine's thoughts even as Nick held her tightly and whispered softly and sensuously. She was aware that he was touching her, and although she liked the way it felt, her full concentration was elsewhere. ((I made a kill tonight)) ... ((so I can be strong)) ... ((so I can fight him)). Christine was looking into Nick's eyes but not really seeing him. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. His voice droned, she was soothed by his touch, but she couldn't comprehend his words. Then suddenly she realized that he was hypnotizing her! She thought of a cobra and a mongoose. Who would be the dinner and who the diner? There was really only one answer for her. She had to snap out of it, break his spell, before it was too late. She noticed, too, that his eyes were flecked with gold. "No, Nick! What are you doing?" It took all the strength she could muster to say it and to pull herself out of his arms. She stumbled across the room. He stumbled a little too. They were both breathing hard from the encounter. "I don't ... want you ... to do it," she puffed. He gave her a puzzled look, wrinkling his brow severely. "I don't want you to protect me from him. And I don't want *you* to bring me across. Isn't that what you called it?" Nick's heart sank. He knew what she meant. She meant to have him. Lacroix. How could she understand? How could he make her understand? "Christine, you don't know him..." "I can fix that." "NO! He can be very charming at first. And from time to time after that. Very accommodating and attentive. But there is always a *quid pro quo*. Always you will be in his debt. And he *always* collects on what he is owed." She just smiled at him. Then her smile turned to a frown. "Poor Nicholas," she said, "you've made a kill tonight even though it goes against your vow to yourself to never take another life. You did it for me? I'm so sorry." "It doesn't matter." He brushed it aside with a sweep of his arm. "No, but I mean I don't want you to fight over me. I want *him* to bring me across." He stared at her with a look of complete resignation on his face. He knew this was coming, but he still did not want to hear it. And yet here it was! "Then you will owe him your life. And he will make you his slave. You will never be completely free of him, unless he chooses to free you." "But he likes me -- you said so. And he is so dynamic. I've never known anyone like him. You said he would never free me? I think I could be very happy to spend forever with him." "Christine, you don't understand. This is reality. This is not some fiction that ends happily ever after or with everybody getting what they deserve. HE MAY KILL YOU. It is a whim with him; he has no concern with what is best for you. He will do whatever he does now to please himself or to torment me. Such is our relationship. His decision may have nothing to do with you. That is the way he is." "But you said he is enchanted by me," she continued dreamily. Then she realized something else. "You said I'm beautiful?" No one had ever told her that before. He was exasperated by her innocence, her naivete. "Christine have you been listening to what I am saying? He never mentioned that he will try erasing your memory or that he will set you free. I am afraid he means to end your mortal life, and whether or not he will bring you across you will be dead to this life you have been living. You will not be able to stay here. You are still wanted for murder." Then she confronted him, "This life I've been living. You see where it has brought me! If he succeeds in erasing my memory, you will take me to jail for killing that man, isn't that right?" He hesitated a minute, looking her straight in the eyes, "Yes, I will. You have to answer for that crime. I'm still a cop, after all." "Oh bullSHIT! What a dualist you are! How can you presume to 'protect and serve' like a normal police officer when you have a much higher law you have to answer to? 'I'm still a cop' - PLEASE. When it suits you or when it's convenient perhaps; but I'm sure you bend, twist and otherwise contort those mortal laws as needed to fit into *your* confines. You could let me go. Don't deny it! There has been no sign of these Enforcers you spoke of -- IF they even exist. You don't have to fight Lacroix, Nick. You say you want to save me from him. Why would you think I want to be saved?" He looked at her as if he had never seen her before. "You're insane. Only an insane person would want this life." "So YOU say," she countered, a look of triumph in her eyes and in the tilt of her head. Nick just looked at her, uncomprehendingly. He shook his head, turned away, and went upstairs to his room. *()*()*()*() Christine decided to do some laundry and get herself ready for the trip. Nick had said Lacroix meant to take her with him, but he didn't say where. Nick had said she would have to leave Toronto, but he didn't say when. She was eager with anticipation at all that awaited her, yet she was also more than a little scared. She wanted to be ready for the journey, whether it was just to the next province or a journey into an entirely new life. Apparently Nick had no intention of locking her in her room tonight. He had never come back downstairs. Since she was too excited to sleep, she flitted around the apartment. She watched a little tv, played on the computer a while, listened to some music, thumbed through some books without really seeing what was on the pages. Eventually she dozed on the sofa. When she woke, it was nearly dark outside and she heard Nick rattling around in the kitchen. When she saw him, she was afraid for a moment because she didn't recognize him. His hair was down to his shoulders and he had about a week's growth of beard. He had NOT looked like that last night. He had been clean-shaven and his hair barely brushed his collar. He saw the shocked look on her face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I thought I could sneak down and get a drink without waking you. I was starving. The more blood we drink, the more blood we want -- at first, anyway. And because I hunted and fed last night, for the first time in a long time, this is almost like first hunger all over again." "Your hair," she began. "Yes, that is one of your legends that is nearly true. Our hair really does return to the length it was when we died a mortal death. Not always overnight, but it can be quite a nuisance to have to cut it every other night or so. If you'll excuse me, I'll go get cleaned up." He started for the stairs. When he was about halfway up, he stopped and said, "By the way, if he comes before I return..." Then he stopped, uncertain what to say. Ask him to reconsider? To be a nice vampire and just erase her memory? Just leave her alone? I'll let her go if you will? What good would it do? She could see that he was feeling agitated and uncertain about what to say. "I'll be okay," she half-smiled. He gave her a very sad look, slightly frowning. "I wish you well, Christine. I wish things could have been different." Then he continued up the stairs and went into his room. So, he meant to let her go with Lacroix! He had changed his mind about fighting to try and save her from him. Or so it seemed. She was glad of that and yet, she felt like she had lost him as her champion. She had not wanted him as her champion, but she felt the loss nevertheless. She hoped she had made the right decision. *()*()*()*() Nick went in to work that night and Reese was glad to have him back on the job. Reese called Nick into his office as soon as he saw him. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Nick, but you have to know and the sooner the better." Reese explained that Morales had been stirring up trouble during Nick's absence. He had been dogging the forensics team and the medical examiners for every minute detail of the crime scene. He had gone over it dozens of times with his men and had presented his theories to Reese and to Reese's bosses. The bosses are calling for an Internal Affairs investigation. Nick was understandably upset about this news, but not too terribly surprised. Morales had some solid arguments about things like Nick's entry into the room. Nick thought he might try again to "re-work" Morales' memories and interpretations of the events. Now that he had fed on human blood again, his powers would be amplified. Perhaps now he would be able to affect a change in Morales' impressions of the night in question. But then again, maybe it was too late for that. Since Morales had already escalated the investigation, it would undoubtedly take on a life of its own. "Cap, is there any way I can get a copy of what Morales has from forensics and the M.E.?" Nick asked Reese. Reese handed Nick a file folder from his desk. "You didn't get this from me, okay. I think you should go on over to the Coroner's office and talk to Dr. Bradley about his findings. They are not entirely consistent with what Morales has told the bosses, and Morales' version of those findings is what has I.A. so interested. Oh, and while you're there ask Bradley if he has the work-up on the Donner case. I'm assigning you to the investigation." Nick was glad to hear he was being assigned a case. At least he was not on restricted duty pending the IA investigation -- not yet. "Bradley? Donald Bradley?" Nick asked. "Oh, yeah, this all happened while you were out. There has been a bit of a shake-up at the Coroner's office. You know that Natalie has been out because of ... well, you know." "Dr. Lambert, suicide attempt. I remember you told me." "Well, apparently her therapist feels that her work is not the cause of her problems. Quite the contrary in fact. Natalie convinced the therapist that getting back to work would be the best therapy. Natalie insisted that she be allowed to change to day shift, though. Because of that, they had to play musical doctors and Bradley drew the short straw (to hear him tell it). Anyway, he was the M.E. on duty the night of that drug deal. He was at that hotel room and it seems he and Morales conferred quite a bit on the evidence. Some have even said 'argued'. His findings don't all jive with your statement or that of Morales. I think you might want to politely ask Bradley about his findings. You might want him to speak on your behalf if it comes to a hearing." As Nick walked out of Reese's office, he noticed that he was catching a few stares from the squad room. Nobody spoke to him, which was nothing unusual. But the staring could be from a number of reasons, and he didn't like to draw attention to himself. It could be dangerous if mortals took too much interest, if they got too close. He realized that he had been thinking about "them" as mortals rather than fellow officers. Yes, something had definitely changed for him in the last few days. Nick drove over to the Coroner's office and stopped for a few minutes to read the file Reese had given him. A couple of facts had been exaggerated, but mostly the report was accurate. Morales had included his suspicions about Nick and the missing girl -- that either he had hidden her away out of personal motives or that perhaps he had even killed her for any number of hypothetical reasons. It began to look as though Nick would have to produce Christine to clear his name. But then there was another alternative: why bother about clearing this name, when he had used so many others through the centuries? Why not just leave here, move on to the next lifetime. He had been thinking of it, Lacroix had recommended it, why not just do it? What better time? What was there to hold him here? *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:51 1996 Date: Sun, 1 Dec 1996 22:16:41 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (15/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 15 "Ah, Detective Knight! Good to see you back on the job. Heard you were down with the flu. Nasty business, that." Dr. Donald Bradley greeted Nick as he walked into the Coroner's office. Nick didn't especially like Bradley. His manner was insincere and his attitude pompous, but he was very good at his job. Nick had worked with him before, at the 27th. Bradley didn't have a reputation as the most likeable person, but he did have a sterling reputation as an honest man and a relentless pursuer of the truth. "Captain Reese asked me to inquire about the Donner case? I'm being assigned to that investigation." Nick wanted to get that out of the way before he got down to the other business. "Donner, yes, I have it right here. Multiple stab wounds..." Bradley went on about the case for a minute and then handed Nick the file. Nick felt a little *deja vu* being in this office. Of course he had been here before, many times, but it was someone else he usually saw. It must be Dr. Lambert he was remembering, although he couldn't picture her face. But then he also remembered something about being here on a table. In a body bag. He himself had been brought in here presumed dead. There had been an explosion. A pipe bomb. His body had regenerated. He had awoken in desperate need of blood. There had been someone there when he awoke. A woman. She had seen him manifest into his vampire self. Who? Was it ... Natalie? He could see her face in his mind now. The woman in the photo! It was Natalie that Lacroix had erased from his mind. "Detective, I hope I'm not boring you," Bradley was a bit perturbed that his briefing was being ignored. "I'm sorry, doctor, I just thought of something and I have to leave right away to take care of it. I hope I can talk to you soon about the shootings in that hotel room. The drug deal with Special Affairs?" "Oh yes, Morales' crusade. Sure, any time." Nick apologized again and left quickly. He had to see Natalie. But what would he say? Would she remember him? Would it be better for him NOT to see her? He sat in the car and thought about it for a very long time. It was ALL coming back to him now. She hadn't been afraid of him. She had been helping him in his quest to regain his mortality. All the protein shakes and various other concoctions she had prescribed. He had lied to Lacroix about his love for her to protect her from him. She had loved him too, he was certain of it. The fact that he was a vampire had kept them apart. And then he remembered the night at the loft. Lacroix HAD been there. Nick had decided to try taking just a little of Natalie's blood in a last-ditch attempt to become mortal again. He had failed miserably. As Natalie lay dying, Nick had asked Lacroix to stake him, to put him out of his misery, to end the existence he had hated for hundreds of years. He wanted to die with Natalie, hoping that somehow they could be together in death as they had been unable to in life. "Damn you, Nicholas!" Those were Lacroix's last words, then everything had gone black. The next thing Nick remembered was walking into the job on what he thought had been the next night and Reese asking him where he had been for two nights. Two nights. Those were gone. Nick could remember nothing about those two missing nights. Not yet. Maybe it would come to him. Maybe he would be better off if it did not. *()*()*()*() Nick had flown to Natalie's house without even thinking about it. He had no trouble remembering the way. There were still pieces of things he couldn't remember. He was uncertain about what he was going to do next. He sat outside watching, listening. He tried to pick up on her thoughts, but he couldn't make a connection. At first he thought that perhaps she was asleep or not at home. But then he saw her walk past the window. Seeing her was one of the strangest sensations he had ever felt. This was a woman he had loved, and yet he only knew that as a fact -- not as an emotion. He picked up a few stray thoughts from her. She was excited to be back at work. Excited about being on the day shift, though she missed Grace and some of her other co-workers. Excited to be able to go out nights with her old friends, some of whom she hadn't seen socially in years because of their conflicting work schedules. There was no thought of him. Not at all. No thought of a man she loved. No memory of what had happened that night at the loft. A little confusion over the "suicide attempt", since she didn't believe she was depressed. Lacroix had apparently told that story when he took her to the hospital, to explain the loss of blood. So far as Nick could determine, Lacroix had been completely successful in erasing all traces of him from her mind. If she were to hear his name, Nick suspected her reaction might be similar to what his was on hearing her name a few weeks ago. ((Nick? Nick who?)) He hung his head and wept silently from the pain of the loss. *()*()*()*() Christine waited back at the loft for Lacroix to arrive. She had been going a little crazy with anticipation, wondering when he would ever show up. She had even gone through the "maybes" that Nick had lied to her about this and that perhaps Lacroix had no intention of coming for her. After all, how much can you trust a vampire? She had chosen a couple of the hottest CDs in Nick's collection and danced up a sweat to try and work off some of the anxiety. She figured her heart was pounding anyway, she might as well give it a good reason. Then she decided she better take a quick shower, even though she was afraid she might miss him. She had gone downstairs to dry her hair, just to make certain she would see him when he dropped in. Everything was packed. She was ready to go. She decided she had better work on her impatience, so she took a lot of deep breaths and told herself that whatever was going to happen would happen. She could not control what others did. She would have to accept it. She sat on the floor in front of the fire and laid out a game of solitaire just to pass the time and try to get her mind off things. She missed a lot of moves because she was having trouble concentrating. But it helped pass the time, and it was easier to cheat this way than playing on the computer. *()*()*()*() Lacroix had been getting everything ready back at the Raven. The place was a bit of a mess. It had been closed for business while he was out of town, but still some of the Community had been living there. Some, but not all of them, had his permission to do so. He had cleared the place out on his return. He did not want any other vampires to be there while Christine was there. At least, none whom he could not trust to respect that she belonged to him. And none who would make trouble by possibly calling in Enforcers if they thought something was not quite right about ... things. When he was confident that he had done all he could to prepare for Christine's arrival, he took to the sky and flew directly to Nick's rooftop. He landed silently at the skylight, hesitating before he entered. He wanted to listen to her thoughts, to determine how she was feeling and whether she had doubts. Some doubts were to be expected -- were good, even, he supposed -- at a time like this. If she was completely without doubt or hesitation, then perhaps Nicholas was right about denying her the Dark Blood. Lacroix had to decide for himself. As much as he wanted her, he did not want to be too hasty and regret it for eternity. As he looked in, he saw the girl dancing fiercely to some loudly pounding rock and roll music. He could detect no thoughts about anything particular in her mind. Her heart was pounding so loudly that he could hear it even up here on the roof. He loved watching her move. Her body was so young and strong and agile. Her dance reminded him of something primal, powerful, sexual. He had seen such dancing among native tribes in various locales on his travels over the centuries. Many cultures used dance in many different ways. He suspected Christine was using it now as a means of distracting herself. He wanted to know exactly why. He needed to know. When the music stopped, Lacroix heard Christine's decision to get a quick shower. She wanted to be ready when he came. So she was expecting him! Nicholas must have told her as he had directed him to do. He decided to wait and listen a while longer. Even when she came downstairs to dry her hair he waited. Even though snow had begun lightly falling, still he waited on the roof. He wasn't sure he had all the information he needed. Finally, he decided he would only get the information from direct confrontation. Now the girl was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, playing cards. Upon watching more closely, he realized that she was having a bit of trouble focusing on the game. He was slightly amused that her thoughts kept turning to him. He lifted the pane on the skylight and dropped silently into the room. Christine sensed his presence even before she saw him standing across the room from her. She rose quickly and smiled at him hopefully. "Nick told me you would be coming for me," she said quietly. "I hoped he was telling me the truth." He felt a flood of thoughts and emotions in the girl's mind. He was confident that she had no more than the normal qualms about what she believed would happen next. It reinforced his decision to carry out his plans. He motioned for her to come to him. She quickly walked to stand in front of him. He lifted her chin with his fingers, so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "I want you to listen to me very carefully, Christine." He was speaking slowly and quietly, using a little of his hypnotic powers. He wanted to judge her reaction. "Some things have happened which you must forget." Christine, looking deeply into his eyes, could feel her heart slowing down. She felt the now familiar sensation of hearing her heartbeat being brought into sync with his. He meant to erase her memories! No!!! That's not what was supposed to happen! He was here to take her with him so they could get better acquainted. He meant to bring her across. That is what Nick had told her. Had he lied after all? She couldn't move, couldn't look away, couldn't speak. She tried as hard as she could, but she couldn't break out of his control. With every ounce of her strength, she was finally able to close her eyes. But she could still hear his voice, could still feel him drawing on her mind. She was frantic that her resistance would not be enough. She did not want to lose him. She wanted to be with him, if he would have her. She didn't want him to send her away. And she didn't want to go to jail. Lacroix was listening to all her frantic thoughts. He knew that by threatening her in this way he would be able to learn how she truly felt. Mortals could never hide their true feelings when they believed they were in peril. He felt that if he had truly been determined to erase her thoughts she would have proved a somewhat difficult case. She was definitely a Resister, but he could have handled it. He had no desire to do so. He wanted her to remember. Always. He had no wish for her to forget what she owed him. He released her slowly and gradually from his spell, and he caught her as she began to collapse. She was gasping for breath as he whispered, "I believe you are sincere." He helped her to the sofa and sat her down until she got her heart and breathing back to normal. Then he sat on the coffee table, facing her. "I can erase your memories and take you away from Nicholas, somewhere he will never find you, and I will set you free, if you like. You must tell me now." Her eyes quickly took in every detail of him. "Please, monsieur, I want to be with you. I never want to forget you," she spoke softly. He thought he saw a hint of a tear in her eyes, and he could read in her thoughts that she was sincere. This child truly believed there was no one in the world who loved her. She was intrigued by him. She wanted very much to explore this fantasy she had held for so long. She believed this was her destiny. He believed she may be right. He took her hand and rose, and she rose with him. "Well, then, get your things. We have a short flight, but wear your jacket, it's cold up there." He raised one eyebrow and smiled slightly. She returned a smile that lit up the room and warmed his cold heart. <> he thought once again. She put on her jacket and retrieved her bag from the dining table. He knew this tiny bag held all she owned in the world, so he didn't bother to ask or feign surprise. She came to stand beside him, he looked deeply into her eyes, searching for any last-minute doubts. Finding none, he lifted her in his arms and flew up through the skylight and into the midnight sky. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:54 1996 Date: Mon, 2 Dec 1996 22:57:59 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (16/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 16 For all that her father had been a test pilot, Christine had not flown in an airplane since she was seven years old. But that was nothing compared to this! The exhilaration of flying free like a bird with no machine surrounding you -- and no windscreen -- was beyond compare. The tiny flakes of snow felt like little stings or needles, they struck with such force at the speed they were flying. She was terrified at first, but quickly began to enjoy the flight. She trusted Lacroix completely, and he even whispered a few words to help comfort and reassure her. "I'm flying much more slowly than I normally would so you won't be too frightened," he spoke softly in her ear. She laughed out loud at this. She thought they were going so incredibly fast, and he called this slow! After what seemed like just a few minutes they landed gently on the rooftop of a building. Her legs were a little shaky, but he let her lean on him for support. He opened a door leading from the roof down a narrow, dimly-lit stairway. She felt her normal sense of vertigo as she descended. Her old fear of stairs. This time, tempered with anticipation. At the foot of the stairway, there was another door. This one had an electronic lock with a number pad, apparently for keying in a combination. "It's best that you don't know this combination," Lacroix said to her. She turned her head as he punched in the numbers. Then she heard the door open, and he said, "Please, come in." The door opened into a narrow, dimly-lit hallway. It was a little scary, but Christine was too excited to be afraid. They walked past a door on the left and Lacroix said, "My rooms are here." They continued another few yards and stopped at the next doorway. "This will be your room." He opened the door and motioned for her to go in first." "These are the only two apartments on this floor. There is a combination lock at either end of the hallway. You are safe here as long as you stay on this floor. I am the only one who knows the combinations to the locks. They are what you could call 'vampire proof'." Christine looked into the apartment. It was beautiful and very cozy. A fire was burning warmly in the fireplace. "May I?" She indicated that she wanted to explore the place. He nodded. "I told you, it's yours." The room was huge, about as large as the downstairs of Nick's loft. The fireplace was just to the left as she entered, about midway along the length of the room. There were two big, overstuffed armchairs facing each other in front of the fire, and a beautiful, big oriental rug on the floor. Either side of the fireplace, tall bookcases were built into the wall, and they were loaded with books and various collectibles. The bed was in the far corner near one window. It was a beautiful 4-poster carved wood bed. The wood was dark, like mahogany. The bed posts were a spiraling leaf and vine design standing about 7ft tall, with a pineapple-shaped finial at the top of each post. The bed was piled with pillows of all shapes and sizes, and the bedding, in shades of taupe and sage, was of silk. There were two huge windows on the wall opposite the entry door; one near the bed, the other near the kitchen. They were at least 8ft high, and draped with sheer scarves. She noticed they were also fitted with shutters, presumably to shut out all daylight. The ceiling appeared to be about 15ft high. The furnishings were a beautiful, eclectic mixture that Christine found to be delightful: Victorian lamps, candle holders everywhere in brass and glass and wrought iron, several oriental rugs scattered over the concrete floor, the overstuffed chairs, the imposing bed, wrought iron with glass-topped table and two matching chairs in the kitchen area. The kitchen was a delight of efficiency: a small sink and under-counter refrigerator, one cabinet over the refrigerator with a glass front, revealing a wine rack and a few dishes. There was a small 2-burner stove to the left of the sink, in the corner of the room, immaculately clean as if it had never been used. She wondered about previous occupants of this room. Had they been vampires or prisoners? Had they been freed, or had they died here? Would she be freed? Or would she ... In the fourth corner of the room, opposite the fireplace, was the bathroom which included a dressing room and closet area. This was a large room within the room, and surprisingly modern, considering that everything else in the room was virtually antique. The bathroom had modern fixtures, a glass shower compartment and even a whirlpool tub. The dressing room had a huge wall mirror that was a makeup artist's dream come true. The lights were not extremely bright, but there were quite a lot of them. Christine wondered <> She returned to the main room and found Lacroix standing by the fire. She knew he had been watching her. She smiled at him radiantly and said "This place is a palace! It's absolutely beautiful!" "I'm glad you like it," he answered her softly. "Will you sit? Would you like some wine?" "Will you join me?" she invited him. "Hmmmph," he breathed as he smiled at her slightly. He preceded her to the kitchen, took a bottle of wine from the cabinet, opened it, and poured two glasses. He handed her one and clinked it with his glass in a toast. "Cheers!" he said. He motioned her to have a seat at the table, and he brought out a tray of sliced meat and cheese from the fridge and a loaf of french bread. He set it on the table and said, "I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a loss when it comes to food, but I hope this will be acceptable." "Thank you, it's wonderful. This was very thoughtful of you." She had a little bite of everything, mostly to be hospitable because she was too excited to be hungry. "I was wondering about this place," she said after a moment of silence with Lacroix watching her eat. It made her a bit uncomfortable and self-conscious, but she had figured out by now that it was just his way -- he liked to watch people. She supposed he probably watched vampires as well. "As you can see, out that window, the CN Tower. That may give you some idea where we are located. This is a nightclub I own called The Raven. The club is downstairs, but it has been closed for the past few weeks while I was ... traveling. There were some vampires staying here -- with my permission, of course -- while I was gone, but when I returned last night I found they had abused the privilege. I turned them all out as soon as it was dark. After they cleaned the place up, that is." "Well, it looks very nice in here. They did a good job." "Oh, they weren't staying up here. There are rooms in the basement. I sometimes allow others of the Community to stay there for a time. They are not allowed on this floor, and the locks I mentioned ensure they cannot enter here uninvited. "Will you reopen the club?" He looked into her eyes for a moment. "I haven't yet decided if I'm staying." "Oh? Where will you go?" "Where would you like to go?" One corner of his mouth curved slightly upward in a half-smile, and he raised one brow slightly. She really liked that half-smile of his. His eyes twinkled when he did that. She laughed quickly and quietly. "Oh, I don't know...Paris?" she replied playfully. His eyes opened wider and his lips parted slightly in surprise. "Odd you should say that. It is exactly what I had been thinking." His voice was little more than a whisper. He got up from the chair and went to stand by the window. Christine followed him and stood behind him. She put her hands on his back, just below the shoulder blades and began to stroke firmly. She loved the feel of his powerful muscles, and hoped he enjoyed this attention. They both looked out the window, silently watching the snowfall, which had increased quite a bit. After a minute or so, Lacroix spoke, "Early for this much snow, even for Toronto." He turned from the window and went to sit by the fire. He hadn't turned to look at her, so she didn't know if he was upset. She chose to believe he was not. She poured herself another glass of wine and went to join him. As she seated herself, he spoke, "I've been wondering ... why is that you came to Canada, Christine." This made her a little uncomfortable. She didn't mind telling, but she didn't want to bore him. She said as much and then added, "What is it that you want to know?" "About ... you," he replied simply. "I know very little. I want to know more. Don't worry about boring me, I have plenty of time." He smiled his glorious half-smile as he said this. She took a deep breath and started in. Finished high school in Chicago -- decided to leave mom -- why not go north? someplace really different -- Montreal -- crash course in French -- Odd jobs, anything honest that paid cash (no work visa) -- etcetera and so on. He listened patiently, quietly for the most part. Occasionally he would ask for clarification on a point. She didn't feel threatened in any way by his questions; he seemed genuinely interested. She had gone into a bookstore one day, looking for the latest by her favorite author, and had struck up a conversation with the owner. He was a charming little man, about 80 years old, and he spoke English perfectly. Christine had been telling him a little about herself and had mentioned that she was looking for work at the present time. Just then he had taken a phone call. A customer who had been wandering around the store for a while picked that moment to come to the counter and ask for help. She was looking for the same author Christine had come in for, so even though the customer was asking in French, Christine was able to help her. The little old man rang off the phone just as the two women returned to the front of the store. After he rang up the sale and the customer left, he had offered Christine a job and a place to live. He lived upstairs from the bookstore and he had plenty of room. She decided some time after that he must have just taken pity on her. There was never really enough business to warrant an assistant, but he never complained. They worked together all day every day. He taught Christine French (enough to get by) and he assigned her books to read: classic literature, art, music, philosophy. She would read and then they would discuss. In short, it was equivalent to about two years of college in the one year that she worked for Mr. Beauchamp. She would cook dinner for them every night and they would continue their conversations long into the night sometimes. He suffered from arthritis, and sometimes could barely move in the mornings. It was because of him that she had learned about massage therapy. She took a few classes and read a few books. He always told her she was quite good at it, and they both noticed an increase in his mobility because of her treatments. He had been like the grandfather she never had, and she had been another in a long line of proteges he had loved teaching and mentoring. He had been a teacher, then retired to run the bookstore. He usually hired college students, but he had taken a chance on Christine because, as he had told her, she made him think of the daughter he never had. He had died one night, and Christine had found him in his room when she went to investigate why he had not come to breakfast. In a handwritten will, he had left her what little money he had. She was deeply moved by that gesture but broken-hearted at losing him. It was the second time death had taken a loved one from her. She had packed her bags and taken her tiny fortune and left Montreal. She boarded the first bus out of the station, which was headed to Quebec City. She found that place beautiful but most inhospitable. It was winter, she couldn't find work, and she was depressed over the loss of Mr. Beauchamp. Her tiny inheritance dwindling rapidly, she decided after only a few months to leave. Again she took the first bus out. It was headed to Toronto. So, here she was. "How long have you been here?" Lacroix asked. "Since April," she replied. "The Summer here was beautiful as was the Fall. And the Winter? Well, we shall see." She smiled at him warmly. The clock on the mantle struck three o'clock. Lacroix got up from his chair and walked to the window again. Christine followed him, a bit hesitantly. She stood behind him, almost close enough to touch him. He spoke softly to her without turning from the window, "It's late. You must be exhausted from telling your stories." Then he turned to face her. "Perhaps we can continue tomorrow night." He was standing so close that he could feel the warmth of her body. He cupped his hands under her chin and kissed her lightly between the eyes. "But now, I must ... go." Christine was once again awestruck with the power of his presence. His voice was so powerful, so dynamic. When he touched her chin she felt a surge of desire shooting all up and down her body. And when he kissed her, she felt it in all her extremities. She reflexively locked her arms around his waist and pulled him close. "*Est-ce que je viendrai ce soir*? [Shall I come to you tonight?] Just at dark, if that's all right," he said, looking down into her eyes, still stroking her jaw with the fingers of one hand. "*Oui, s'il vous plait* [Yes, please]" she answered quickly. Her hands were moving up his back and across his shoulders. She wanted him to know that she wanted him to stay. He gave her another of his half-smiles and turned toward the door. She followed close behind him. As he opened the door, he showed her how to work the inner lock. It was a fairly normal dead-bolt. "You must keep this door locked at all times. Do you understand? No exceptions." "Yes, sir, I promise." "*Bonne nuit*." [Good night] His eyes moved across her face as he said it, and then he shut the door behind him. She locked the door as instructed, believing that he would be waiting to hear it, then she dreamily danced around the room. She was so excited to be here, with him. What a night this had been! It was terribly traumatic to tell about her life story and especially about her beloved Mr. Beauchamp. When she allowed herself to do so, she missed him terribly. He was the best thing that had happened to her for as far back as she could remember. She poured herself another glass of wine and then began to explore the books. She kept picturing Lacroix sitting there by the fire, with the firelight dancing in his eyes. She believed he had been interested in her story. She was so afraid that her pathetic life would count against her, that she would somehow be considered less worthy because of who she was and where she had come from. She had not told him yet about her darkest secrets, as she had told Nick. Had he read it in her mind? Did he care? She rationalized that because she was still here and she was still alive there was still hope. Or perhaps because she was not yet a vampire there was really no hope. She honestly didn't know what to make of it. Perhaps that night there would be some answers. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:56 1996 Date: Mon, 2 Dec 1996 23:11:58 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (17/26) CAUTION: This chapter contains a few paragraphs of rather graphic nature -- vampire violence. I did not think it was enough or gory enough to warrant an ADULT heading, but please be prepared. Apologies to the squeamish and to those who expect it to be more than it is. Additional disclaimer: I have included another Fleur flashback. Thanks and praise once again to the author of Be My Valentine and LisaP. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 17 Nick hunted again that night and fed on his victims. He did not kill either of them, but drank as much as was safe and then erased their memories of the experience. He was still not certain of how he would take his revenge on Lacroix for what had been done, but he knew he must be strong. He must be prepared. He *would* have his revenge. He returned to the loft around 3 o'clock. As he started the elevator to the top floor he was certain of two things: Christine was gone, and Janette was in the apartment. As he opened the elevator door, he saw her standing there. "I got your message. What has happened to you?" That was not what she had intended to ask, but when she saw him she knew that something awful had happened. He had a bit of a wild, crazed look in his eyes, such as she had not seen in a hundred years or more. He took her in his arms and held her tightly for a very long time. She could sense his emotional turmoil. His thoughts were a jumble, too fast to comprehend it all. The parts she could make out, she found difficult to believe. Finally he loosened his embrace and she led him by the hand like a little child to sit by her on the sofa. "Tell me everything," she invited. "Do you remember Natalie?" "Your doctor. Of course," she was puzzled by the question. ((I don't)) he sent telepathically. He explained what he knew of what Lacroix had done to him and to Natalie. He told Janette about Christine and how Lacroix had undoubtedly taken her and what he meant to do with her. His anger grew as he spoke of his intentions to take revenge and his uncertainty of what form that revenge would take. He also said he intended to save Christine from him, if it wasn't too late. He told her about his kill and his taking of mortal blood. This excited her the most. She felt this was a sign that he intended to once again embrace his true nature. "Nicola, why would he erase your memories of Natalie and NOT your desire to regain your mortality?" "Perhaps that desire is too strong and couldn't be erased," Nick replied. "Or perhaps there is another reason. Do you still have the belief that you can be ... redeemed?" He hesitated. "I don't know any more. I know it is the one thing he hates the most. That and my constant association with mortals in this career I have chosen. He believes that I am insane for even thinking there is a possibility I could become mortal again. Natalie believed it could happen, and so do I. And it did happen -- to you." "Yes, but you see how horribly that ended." She was quiet for a while, reflecting on the past. "Nicola, don't you see what this is about?" Janette began. "He finally has had his revenge on you. For Fleur." The comment hit Nick like a slap across the face. He had considered it, but... "Don't you remember? You convinced Lacroix to let Fleur remain mortal." [Flashback] [1228, Nick's family home in France/Belgium] Nick has just stopped Lacroix from bringing Fleur across. Nick works his hypnotic powers on her, "Don't be afraid. I promise you that after we've gone your life will be good again. Sleep." Fleur struggles against his suggestions, but he tries again and prevails. "Sleep and forget," Nick continues. Fleur turns and walks away, a troubled look still on her face. Nick stands there looking after her with a concerned look on his face. Over his shoulder, he says to Lacroix, "We'll leave as soon as possible." Lacroix tries to regain his composure as he says, "Yes, you've probably done me a favor. But," He walks to stand by Nick, "you must realize, Nicholas, that I will demand retribution. One day, when you have fallen in love, I will take from you what you have taken from me now. We're agreed?" Nick speaks, a little doubtfully, "If I ever truly love a mortal ..." "Are we agreed?!" "Yes," Nick replies, "we are agreed." [Present] [Nick's loft] "She was his greatest love," Janette continued, "and because of his love he left her. But he told you there would be a time for retribution, *n'est-ce pas*? [isn't that so] It seems that now the time has come! He took your *memory* of the love, Nicola. Perhaps you should be glad he didn't kill Natalie." "I can't accept that!" Nick struck back at the idea. "He has gone too far! I would rather be dead and have her dead. I asked him to do this and he refused." "So! He refused to let you die. Even though you begged him to let it happen." Janette rose from the sofa and stood across from Nick with her hands on her hips and a very grim look on her face. "Why does this sound so familiar to me? Does it sound familiar to you ... Nicola ... my Master?" Her voice was dripping with anger. Of course Nick knew she referred to their last encounter. She had begged Nick to allow her to die, but his love for her would not allow it. They had been companions and lovers for hundreds of years. He could not bear the thought of losing her forever, and so he had brought her across. He had not seen her since. She bent and put her hands on the coffee table and looked Nick straight in the face. Her lip was curled in a snarl as she said, "Let ... it ... be ... Nicola." She stared into his eyes for a few seconds longer, then rose and stood by the fire with her back to him. He knew better than to argue with her when she took that tone. Even if he was her master now, he knew he would never possess her, as Lacroix had once possessed them both. He would consider what she had said. He didn't want to admit that she was right. He wanted vengeance, and the warm blood coursing through his veins didn't help to calm his heart. After a minute or so, Janette turned to face Nick. "Tell me about the girl, Nicola." *()*()*()*() Lacroix had gone back up to the roof and flown to a cheerful club he knew over on Queen Street West. He went in, ordered a coffee he knew he would not drink, and surveyed the room, looking for his prey. He needed to feed, but his thoughts were on Christine. He had heard from her many things more than she had said aloud. He tried not to pry into her thoughts, but he became impatient. It was so much faster to read a mortals thoughts. Of course, the fastest way to know everything about them was to drain their blood. He was not ready to do that, however -- not yet. He wanted to know her better, to know what kind of person she was. He was already certain she would make an excellent addition to the entourage, so to speak -- she was young, strong, beautiful, intelligent. Why rush? He did SO enjoy anticipating the making of a new vampire. It was THE most delightful kind of stalking. Just then he saw his dinner leaving the club and he got up and followed her. She was alone, walking to her car. He came up behind her and spoke, startling her slightly. He worked his charms on her to calm her and keep her from seeking help. A few well-chosen words and he was driving her in her car away from the club. He drove to her apartment and they went in together. He was listening at extreme range to be certain that no one saw them come in. He knew it would be safe to do what he had planned. He had only exerted enough mental control over this woman to keep her calm. She probably thought she was having some kind of waking dream. She was quite lovely, actually, almost as tall as he, blonde, muscular, but rather vain and a bit stupid. He began to caress and fondle her as a lover might, and she responded instantly to his touch. He heard her heart beating faster, her excitement rising. At the moment of her peak arousal, he sank his fangs into her neck and drank deeply. He held her tightly to his body, careful not to break her ribs. He drained her nearly to the point of death. His head was reeling from the excitement in her blood and his excitement at taking her blood. He carried her to the bathroom, removed her clothes, and placed her in the tub. He filled the tub with warm water, got a knife from the kitchen and placed it first in her left hand and then her right, slashing the opposite wrist as he did so. Before he did so, he carefully wiped his prints from the knife; he did not want them to confuse the detectives, IF anyone bothered to check. Years of experience had taught him just what to do to make this look convincingly like a suicide. Her heart was strong; it pumped a great deal of the remainder of her blood out to stain the water in the tub a pale pink. He left the water running slowly. It would flood the apartment, causing the body to be found sooner, but the effect of dilution due to running water would also help account for the lack of blood. There was only one more thing to be done: he pricked one of his fingers with his fang and lightly touched a tiny drop of his blood on each of the bite marks on her neck. The bites disappeared within a matter of minutes. By then she was dead. He left the apartment, listening carefully to be certain no one saw him leave. As soon as he was out of the building, he took flight. The snow had stopped, but the air was crisp and cool. He was warm and giddy from gorging on her blood. It felt good to be flying so fast and free through the freezing air. He thought of the old days, when a vampire had no need for concern about the details of a crime scene. Two thousand years ago -- even one thousand years ago -- no one noticed death as much as now. These days, he hardly ever killed, as did most others of the Community. It had become a part of the Code to not kill. Imagine vampires not killing! But that had become the norm in these modern days of police investigation of every suspicious, unexplained death. He would take a little from his victims and erase their memories. Or he would "acquire" bottled human blood from various sources. The bottled blood had to be fresh for him, or it made him quite ill, a condition he felt was particular to himself. He had known many others, younger vampires, who were able to tolerate blood that was -- not quite fresh. He would rather starve. He required much less blood than did the young ones, a benefit of his age. On rare occasions, such as tonight, he allowed himself to make a kill. Generally it was a form of celebration, as the sabbat in days of old. He had delightfully wicked memories of such blood feasts in the old days. This particular celebration was more in anticipation of happy events to come. Also, he was so aroused by Christine's presence that he had to find an ... outlet. He was not yet ready to take his pleasure with her. Soon, perhaps ... but not yet. He found himself walking through the park, reflecting on the past and the future. His thoughts turned again to Christine. There was much she had to learn. Things were definitely *not* as she had read them in books. Being a vampire was really nothing like that, not any more. There was a rich heritage she had to learn about, and many techniques she would have to learn to be safe and avoid detection. He would gladly teach her all she needed to know. It had been too long since he took a fledgling under his wing. Given a few hundred years, she would be quite adept. He smiled at the thought. <> He found himself also thinking about spending the next few hundred years with her. Quite an appealing prospect. He had been alone far too long. Just then he rounded a curve in the walkway. He saw up ahead of him, silhouetted in the light of a street lamp, another vampire. He was tall and burly, dressed all in leather, and his hair hung down past his shoulders. The hair that framed his face was pulled back and braided in tight little braids. Lacroix stopped about 10ft away from the male. They watched each other intently, silently. Lacroix was receiving no telepathic messaging from him, and it did not surprise him in the least. This one was undoubtedly an Enforcer. He was not there to talk. They rarely were. His presence was message enough; it told Lacroix that the Enforcers were aware of the girl and that they were watching him now. He knew also that they would not merely stand in the shadows and watch for very long. He knew what must be done, but he did NOT mean to be rushed. He sent that message telepathically to the male, who simply stood there silently. Lacroix had no indication that the message had been received, but he felt confident it had; he had been very clear, very plain. The male took a few steps toward Lacroix, still showing no facial expression. As he was about 5ft away, he stopped again. The two males held each others gaze, unblinking. Lacroix was startled by the advance of the Enforcer, and he prepared mentally for a fight. He was at a disadvantage, however, because he was unarmed. The Enforcers were all very old, very powerful, and they often fought with blades. He did not want to learn if he could prevail in a fight against one of them, especially unarmed. He was, however, prepared to do just that if it came to it. NO ONE was going to stop him from carrying out his plans. ((Be warned, Lacroix!)) the Enforcer sent telepathically. He stood there another moment, then suddenly took to the air and disappeared. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 16:58:58 1996 Date: Mon, 2 Dec 1996 23:21:52 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (18/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 18 Lacroix returned to his rooms just before dawn. As soon as he reached his door, he knew that Janette was inside. Though she was no longer his "daughter", he was still keenly tuned to her presence. As he opened the door, she came to greet him. She took his hands in hers and he kissed her tenderly on each cheek. They gave each other a warm hug and exchanged greetings. "I see you never changed the locks or the combinations. Isn't that a bit reckless? So unlike you," she teased, smiling. They sat in front of the fire, exchanging pleasantries and talking of things that had occurred since they last saw each other. Lacroix sensed that the sun was fully risen in the sky, and he suspected she must have plans to stay the day. He did not know if she had sensed that Christine was in the next room, nor was he quite certain where she meant to sleep. Lacroix reached out for her hand, and she placed it in his. He raised one brow and smiled slyly as he said, "Janette, you know I love you, but do you presume to invite yourself to sleep the day here?" She threw her head back slightly and laughed briefly, musically. "*Mais, certainement! Pourquoi pas*?" [But certainly. Why not?] "Did it occur to you I might have ... a guest?" He smiled a wicked smile. Her smile faded slightly. "I know about your guest, monsieur. It is of her -- and out of my love for you -- that I wish to speak." *()*()*()*() Lacroix closed his eyes and nodded his head slightly. He understood. She must have spoken to Nicholas, and he had probably sent her to plead for Christine's release. Lacroix did not believe Janette could have been swayed so easily. He was perturbed but still interested in what she would have to say. "So, you have spoken to Nicholas. I'm sure he had an interesting -- although somewhat biased -- story to tell you. Pray tell, what is on your mind?" Janette had never had such a discussion with her old master. When he *was* her master, she would have never dared to have such a conversation as she now planned. It would indeed be interesting. She took a deep breath and began. "What are you doing with this child?" Her tone was curious, concerned ... not accusatory. Lacroix only stared at her, no expression apparent on his face. "I don't understand why you are taking so long to decide. I have never known you to hesitate." She was indeed being bold. He was slightly amused, if for no other reason than he had never seen this side of her. "But you have known me to plan, have you not?" "Well, yes, but ..." "How many nights do you think I observed you before I ... decided?" He sneered this last word. "I don't know. I only saw you twice." "And how many nights did *you* and I observe Nicholas?" "Several. Many. I don't recall." "In each case, those are only the few *you* know about. Believe this or not, I do plan these things, and I bide my time. In fact, the anticipation adds tremendously to the ... pleasure." She blushed as much as a vampire is able. "I remember," she whispered. "Yes, I don't doubt." He was remembering as well the first moment he tasted her warm, rich blood. "The Making is a thing we never completely remember, and yet neither can we forget." They were both silent for a moment, remembering. He continued, "It has been different with her. Circumstances have prevented me from observing her going about her routine daily life. All that was shattered the instant Nicholas went crashing through that window. She knows about our kind and she wants to know more. She wants to be one of the family, so to speak. I need to know if she is truly sincere and if she will be suitable for this life." Now it was Janette's turn to stare at him, expressionless. "As you well know, not everyone can be what we are. It is an awesome thing. Many mortals simply do not have what it takes." She smiled at him. "I didn't realize you had developed such a philosophy about it. You know, you almost sound like a personnel recruiter, trying to make sure she is a 'match' for our 'team'. She raised one hand to her face, slightly covering her mouth, smiling shyly. He considered this a moment. "Perhaps I am. I know now that I want her. I have to know it is me she wants, not just this life." He gestured with a sweep of his hand. Janette's mouth opened slightly in surprise. "You are in love with her!" "It is no concern of yours." She jumped up out of the chair. "Of course it is," she said smiling broadly. She sat on his lap and threw her arms around him, hugging him warmly. "How can you say it?" She kissed his lips and caressed his face with both her hands. She was genuinely excited about this affection she sensed he was feeling for the girl. He took her hands in his and kissed both palms. Janette continued, on a more serious note, "You don't want her to leave you, isn't that it?" He frowned slightly. He didn't particularly like her ability to sense his emotions and read his thoughts. He was doing his best to shield them, but it was difficult when the thoughts and emotions were especially strong, as they were now. "You never wanted any of us to leave you, but we all did." Her look was suddenly sad. She had felt his sadness on the matter. He released her hands, and pushed her up off his lap. He got out of the chair and walked across the room. He couldn't face her now that she knew one of his secrets. Janette watched him. She reached out to feel his thoughts, and found them shielded from her. "This time could be different," she spoke to him softly, hopefully. He turned to look at her, a concerned look on his face. "I think she loves you too." "How can you say that?" he challenged her. "You haven't even met her! Have you?" "No, but she is sleeping in the next room. While you were out, I was bored. I've been listening to her dreams." She smiled broadly, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "And I must say, in her dreams *you* have been doing ... the most ... interesting ... things." *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 17:00:41 1996 Date: Tue, 3 Dec 1996 23:36:43 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (19/26) Note: Sorry! Gotta slow it down. I got a bit over-zealous posting this and am getting ahead of my beta-reader/advisor, who is as we speak slogging through my 27 millionth re-write... ;-/ Thanks, Ronni! + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 19 Nick awoke that afternoon and went to the refrigerator to get his breakfast. As he uncorked the bottle of cow's blood, he caught the putrescent smell of it. It was far past stale. He wanted to retch. This stuff was always awful, but there was no way he was going to drink it now that it was spoiled. He realized that due to his recent hunting activities he hadn't made his usual daily or every-other-daily runs to get fresh blood. As he poured it down the garbage disposal, he found himself thinking about where he would hunt tonight. The thought surprised him at first, then intrigued him. His plan to regain his strength so that he could fight Lacroix might have been the catalyst, but now he found himself thinking that perhaps it was time to get on with his life -- or lives! The events at work, the situation with Morales and the impending IA investigation, the loss of his partners, of Natalie ... all of it seemed to point to one conclusion. He just didn't fit in this particular lifetime any more. It was time to move on. There were just a couple of things he wanted to do first. He began to work out all the details as he showered and dressed. He drove to the hotel where he had found Christine during the now infamous drug bust. He was pleased with what he saw, so he drove to the Coroner's office to talk to Bradley. The information and conclusions of Bradley's investigation gave him even more confidence that his plan would succeed, so he went to the precinct to find Morales. *()*()*()*() Morales was in the coffee room schmoozing with a couple of his men and one of the female officers when Nick found him. Nick just stood in the doorway until Morales acknowledged him. The laughter stopped and the female officer made her excuses and quickly left the room. "Can I help you?" Morales asked Nick, sarcastically. "Let's go for a drive," Nick replied cordially, smiling. Morales and his men exchanged uncertain glances, then Morales straightened his shoulders and raised his chin a little. "Sure," he said. "Why not?" They walked down to the car without speaking, and Nick had driven about a mile before Morales spoke. "I guess this is where you take me out and beat the shit out of me to make me recant what I told IA." Nick gave a little laugh, then he said, "Not at all. I want to show you something." They drove on in silence. When Nick got to the hotel he parked in the alley. He and Morales got out of the car and Nick started for the fire escape. "So what, are you gonna show me how you did it?" Morales asked sarcastically. Nick raised his eyebrows and nodded, "Yeah! Come on." He motioned for Morales to come with him. He started up the fire escape and Morales followed right behind. "You know the room where they were is over there," Morales called up to Nick. "I know. Come on." They kept climbing. When they reached the third floor [le deuxieme etage] (the floor where the events occurred), Nick stepped off the fire escape onto a narrow ledge that went along the side of the building. "What the fuck are you doing?" Morales called to him. He couldn't believe this guy. That ledge was only about 6 inches wide. "Who do you think you are, fuckin' Spiderman or something?" Nick looked back at him with a grin on his face. "No, I just wanted to show you what I did that night." Nick continued across the ledge toward the fourth window, which was the room in question. Morales decided he would grow some balls and stepped out onto the ledge after Nick. He mimicked what Nick was doing, inching his way along, gripping onto the bricks of the wall. It was surprisingly easy! He was amazed that he hadn't fallen and killed himself already. He saw up ahead that Nick had stopped. In another minute, Morales was standing on the other side of the window from Nick. "So far so good," Nick smiled at him. "You're doing very well. Now comes the fun part." Nick pulled out his Glock and broke the window with the butt of it as he rolled into the room. Smooth! Just like in the movies! Morales was stunned. He saw it, but he still didn't believe it. He stepped into the room, grabbing the wall for support. Nick was standing at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Sonuvabitch!" Morales said, breathing heavily. He was not about to admit he was wrong. Not yet. "Nobody could've done that!" "You just saw it," Nick grinned. "Hell, you just DID it!" "I know," Morales replied, shaking his head. "And I still don't believe it!" "Hunh!" Nick puffed. "You're more hard-headed than I am!" Morales sat on the foot of the bed. He was still feeling a little shaky. His knees were like jelly. "I hope we can use the stairs when we go down," he said, then they both laughed. The bed was the only place to sit in the room, so Nick sat on the other side of it at the head. Morales turned to face him. "Now you're wondering why," Nick said. "Yeah." Morales' expression was solemn. He HAD to know. There was, in his mind, no reason for Nick to have gone to all this trouble. He wasn't supposed to be in the room. Besides, how could he know THIS was the room in which the drug deal was happening. Morales had never understood that. "I saw the two suspects walk past the alley. I went into the lobby and persuaded the room clerk to tell me which room they went to," Nick continued with the story he had concocted. "My guy in the lobby didn't see you!" Morales blurted. "I know." Now it was Nick's turn to put on a solemn look. "That may be part of the problem. Did he even see the suspects?" Morales had no reply, Nick continued, "All I know is your man wasn't IN the lobby. I figured the element of surprise would work in my favor and decided to go up the fire escape. But when I finally got there, it was all over." "Why didn't you radio for backup?" "I didn't think there was time, it's that simple. Yeah, I screwed up. I know. But sometimes I just ... really want to get the bad guys, you know?" Morales could relate to that. HE had always wanted to really get the bad guys, too. He sat there for a minute or two, just looking at Nick. He got up and walked around the room, looked at the window Nick had broken in. Then he finally turned to Nick and smiled, "How about if I pay for this?" He said, motioning to the broken glass on the floor. "I kinda guess I owe you one." Nick took this to mean that Morales was convinced, and he figured this was the closest he would ever get to an apology. He smiled and nodded his acceptance of the offer. "What I couldn't understand," Nick said, "was how a good cop like you could have ignored Bradley's findings. You know he described this just the way I did it." "Yeah, I know," Morales replied shyly, looking down at his feet and squirming a little, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I was just pissed 'cause you screwed up a year-long investigation. I mean you REALLY screwed it up for me, Nick." His face showed his frustration clearly. He looked Nick straight in the eyes, then lowered his eyes and continued, "Now we got zip. We have no way to connect the cartel to the men in this room. IF that girl could have made the connection, we may never know because she's gone, too." "Oh, yeah, the girl," Nick offered. "I'm sure that's your next question. How could I have been so stupid as to let her get away?" "Yeah, and why didn't you call for backup on that? You know you really are a lone wolf, just like they all say. A real fucking cowboy. You forget you can't do it all, Nick!" Nick looked at him for a few seconds, then spoke, "I know. I figured she was hurt, disoriented. How could she run very far? I went down the same way she had, but I was so far behind her I just ... lost her. I didn't call for backup because I didn't know she had been the shooter. I guess I made a stupid assumption -- another stupid assumption -- that she was just there to look pretty or something." Nick looked truly ashamed. It wasn't hard to do, he really felt that way. But he could tell it was working; Morales was finally understanding and buying into it. Morales stood there silently for a minute. Nick could feel the tension and anger gradually diminishing in him. Finally, he said, "Let's get the fuck out of here! I better go pay for that window." Once they were back in the car, headed back for the precinct, Morales was silent once again. Nick could sense that he was brooding about something. "You just let me know next time you want to play Spiderman, okay?" Nick quipped. Morales laughed a little. "You know, I don't know if I can call off IA. You and I both know that IA investigations kind of take on a life of their own. What I told them wasn't ... well, I was ... harsh. I was angry and I ... exaggerated a bit." He was quiet for another block or so. "I'm ... sorry." Nick knew that it took a lot for him to admit that, and he appreciated the effort. "Thanks," he said, realizing that he shouldn't make a big deal out of it. He actually kind of liked Morales, in spite of everything that had gone on between them. He even sensed that Morales could identify with Nick. A little. "But I'm sure it will turn out okay," Morales continued. "I mean they have Bradley's findings, like you said, and now I can go to them and straighten out my story. You think I should tell them we went back there and did it again?" They both laughed. "Yeah, that's just what I'll do! Hell, we can bring 'em all out here and make THEM climb the wall and break in! I can see it now!" He laughed out loud, obviously very amused with the picture that made in his mind. They drove the rest of the way back to the precinct with Morales chattering about trivial matters to relieve his tension. Nick was just relieved that things had gone as well as they had. It was important to him that when he left the job his name was clear. It appeared that it would be. It also occurred to Nick at that moment that the time had really come for him to leave this lifetime behind. Too many IA investigations of him lately. All that scrutiny was dangerous. Who knew what they would find? Better that he disappear before they discover the truth about him. He could not allow that to happen. Time to move on. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 17:00:47 1996 Date: Thu, 5 Dec 1996 18:58:43 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (20/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 20 Janette had chattered on and on for about another hour or so, until the day began to weigh heavily on her and she had to sleep. Lacroix took her to his bed and she curled up in his arms, pressing her back to his chest. He curled his fingers through her hair until she slept, enjoying the nearness of her. Neither of them had considered or spoken of making love; they were content merely to be together and close to each other, like in the old days. They had a long history together, and Lacroix had been very happy with Janette for almost 300 years before Nicholas came along and made them a trio. Lacroix's thoughts were scattered flashes of images past, present, and future. There was so much to think of, so much to do and to plan. And then there were the Enforcers to deal with. Eventually he slept fitfully for a few hours, but finally got up and showered and dressed. He listened to determine if Christine was up yet, and finding that she was, he decided to pay her a visit. He missed her and longed to be with her again. He smiled to himself as he accepted this feeling. Perhaps he really was in love! Who could say? What is this thing called love, anyway? Did anyone really know? *()*()*()*() Christine heard a knock at her door and ran to answer it. She was a bit alarmed; it was still daylight out. At the door she spoke, "Yes?" "Lacroix," was the reply. She was delighted and smiled broadly. She opened the door only slightly, though, and stepped out into the hallway. She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest. The sensation that this simple act stirred in him was beyond compare. It was such an honest, child-like action and it spoke to him of her sincere happiness to be here with him in this place. It warmed his heart. "Good evening," he greeted her, returning her embrace, stroking her hair. "I didn't expect you so early, it's still light out." "We don't sleep away the entire day, contrary to what you believe." She giggled lightly. "Shall I close the shutters so you can come inside?" "That's not necessary," he replied, though he knew he would have been more comfortable with them closed. "Really? Well, then, come in please, monsieur." Smiling, she took him by the hand and led him inside. As soon as she did, she noticed that the light was indeed hurting his eyes. "No clouds today," she said. She quickly went to the windows to draw the shutters. When she came back to him, it appeared that he was much more comfortable. Although the windows faced east, she supposed the late afternoon sun was still quite bright for him. "Let me look at you," he commented. "What have you found?" Christine had been rummaging through the closet and found a gorgeous black velvet dress. It had a scoop neck, long sleeves, and though fitted in the bodice it flared out to a full ankle-length skirt. She had decided to wear it -- for him. After all, he had said this place was hers. Who knew where these clothes had come from? It fit her perfectly, so it could be that he had bought it for her? She asked him as much, but he only smiled his little half-smile, gave a breathy "Hmmmph" and went toward the kitchen. He had brought a "wine" bottle with him and also a small package. He set the bottle on the counter and said, "This is NOT wine, okay?" "I understand," she replied, and she ran her hands down his arms, enjoying the feel of the sweater he was wearing tonight -- a dark grey silk, extremely soft. "Come and sit with me," he said, clasping both her hands gently and leading her over to the chair. He sat and pulled her down onto his lap. She put her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes for approval before kissing him. She did not want to make him angry and she remembered all too well that she still didn't know the "rules". He caressed her face lightly with his right hand, barely touching her, and causing her delight. He brushed her lips with his lips ever so lightly and looked deep into her eyes. She wanted him desperately, of that much he was certain. Would she understand? He decided to change the mood before he got swept up in it. "Is there anything you need, Christine? Food, drink, anything?" "I need very much for you to make love to me," she replied, looking him straight in the eyes. He smiled slightly. He had been expecting that and he was glad she was not too shy to say it. "Yes, but anything besides that?" "No, thank you, I'm fine." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, allowing her nose to tickle his ear. He was thrilled by the feel of her touch. So delightfully honest and free of pretense. "I've brought you a present," he said. He handed her the package. She was delighted. "What is it?" she asked excitedly, as she opened it. Inside there was a chain with a pendant of beautiful green stone about the size of a dime. It was covered with droplets of blood red. The chain was a very unusual design and the setting for the stone was very ornate. It was absolutely beautiful. She drew in her breath in amazement when she saw it. It brought a tear to her eye. "It's called a blood stone. In ancient times it was said to resemble the red setting sun reflected on the ocean. So by this you will always have a little symbolic piece of sunlight. I've had it for a very long time. I hope you don't mind old jewelry." He smiled slightly, took it and put it on her, and just then he noticed she was silently crying. He raised her chin and examined her face with a puzzled look. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing," she replied, losing a little of her composure. She didn't want him to see her cry. "It's just that no one ever gave me such a beautiful present before." A tear ran down each cheek. She got up from his lap. "Thank you very much," she spoke it without turning to look at him. It annoyed him that she should be so upset by this trifle. This is not what he had planned at all. She appeared to be wandering aimlessly around the middle of the room. He got up and went to the kitchen. "Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked, getting two glasses from the cabinet. "Yes, please. That would be nice." He poured her a glass of wine, and then he poured himself a glass from the special bottle he had brought with him. He didn't mind drinking a little wine once in a while, but he preferred not to. He did sometimes enjoy a cocktail like Janette would drink, a little wine mixed with blood. Tonight he ... needed ... the blood straight up. And he would have preferred it not out of a bottle. But he needed to keep his head for what he was about to do. "*A votre sante!*" he said as he handed her the glass. Christine was delighted that this time he DID toast her health. She raised her glass to him in return, and smiled at him warmly. He asked her how she had slept and how she had spent her day. She answered and then asked him the same. He did not tell her of course about his "dinner" last night nor about his encounter with the Enforcer. He had not told Janette about that either. Better to keep those things to oneself. All this trivial conversation was for a specific purpose. He did not want to move too fast. He wanted to take his time, to savor each moment, to remember it all. And he still was not certain about the girl's feelings for him. He wanted to be sure. He wanted very much to be sure. Just then there was a knock at the door. Lacroix knew it was Janette. "There is someone I want you to meet," he said and he went to answer the door. Christine was a little alarmed. Apparently it wasn't Nick, she had already met him. Another vampire! Too exciting! She set her glass down and straightened her dress, wanting to make a good first impression. She could not have imagined how much that was not necessary. Janette stepped into the room, smiling warmly. She walked straight over to Christine with Lacroix following close behind. "Christine, this is Janette." Janette took Christine's hands in hers and kissed her softly on each cheek. "I am so very pleased to meet you, Christine," Janette smiled. ((She is Beautiful!)) she sent telepathically to Lacroix. ((No wonder you love her!)) Lacroix raised an eyebrow to Janette in reply to her comment. "Janette is my ... granddaughter, I suppose you could say. Nicholas is her master." "It is a pleasure to meet you, too," Christine replied. She was overwhelmed with how beautiful Janette was; her pale skin, her dark hair, her dark blue eyes. Janette was holding Christine's hands and examining her from head to toe. Suddenly, she spun Christine around as if they had been dancing. "I must say, I never looked so good in that dress." Christine was afraid she had done something wrong. "I'm sorry, should I take it off? I didn't realize it was yours. I didn't mean to..." "No, Christine, not to worry. I left it here and some others, I believe. I was tired of them and my bags were full. You are welcome to them and I'm glad they fit." Her smile was so friendly and honest. It put Christine at ease. Then she added slyly, with a very coquettish look on her face, "But perhaps Lacroix would like for you to take it off!" She giggled slightly and turned away. Christine was shocked and she looked at Lacroix. It was the first time she had seen him look a bit flustered. She thought he actually blushed! How delightful to witness this repartee! She knew she would love Janette. She hoped they could be friends. Janette led Christine to sit with her by the fire. She told Christine how she once owned this place. She had been the one to have these rooms built and had decorated them herself. Over the centuries she had collected a myriad of items in her travels. She had recently acquired a house in Quebec City which she was in the process of decorating with items she had kept in storage for decades. She was enjoying exploring the things she had forgotten she had. As she told a little of her story and her travels, Lacroix had come to stand behind Christine. He was gently massaging her neck or shoulders or running his fingers through her hair. Occasionally he would lightly brush across her ear or her cheek, or run his hand down the length of her arm and interlace his fingers in hers. It was absolutely driving her crazy with desire for him. She was trying to be polite and listen to Janette's story, but she found it very difficult to concentrate. She would sometimes notice Janette smiling or giggling silently behind her hand when Lacroix had done something which made Christine gasp or otherwise react visibly and audibly. The thought even came to Christine that the two of them might be doing this out of some kind of sex game she didn't understand. Maybe they got off on it somehow. She felt suddenly uncomfortable at that thought. "All right, you two," Janette suddenly got up from the chair. "I can take a hint. And besides it's way past my dinner time." She smiled and bent down and kissed Christine on the lips. Christine was startled by this, but at the same time she enjoyed it. Janette wrapped her arms around Lacroix and gave him a quick kiss on each cheek then a long passionate kiss on the lips. They didn't speak a word to each other, but it appeared they were communicating. Christine assumed they were exchanging information telepathically. She was a little upset by it; for one thing, she felt they must be talking about her and for another she felt left out. Wouldn't this be considered rude? Lacroix walked Janette to the door. From the doorway, she turned and said, "Good night Christine. I'll see you tomorrow!" She smiled and walked out. "Good night!" Christine called after her. <> Christine thought <> Lacroix closed the door behind her and locked it. "I thought she would NEVer leave," he said. Then he smiled at Christine and walked towards her. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 17:01:02 1996 Date: Thu, 5 Dec 1996 18:58:48 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: ADULT: Since April (21/26) ADULT -- You will also see a chapter 21 that is a PG-13 version of the following. You do not need to read both (unless you want to see how I chopped it ;-) + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 21 Lacroix took Christine in his arms and kissed her firmly between the eyes. Then he kissed each eyelid, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth. Holding her tight, hands moving across her back, down to her waist, up to her hair. Christine let him kiss her, delighted in his touch. Returning kiss for kiss every chance she got. Tonight he would lead the way. She would gladly follow! Massaging and pinching at his back muscles. Drawing him closer. Not allowing him to pull away. She wanted him to know how much she desired to be closer to him, as close as she could possibly be. Closer than that. Lacroix pulled away from her. Stepping back, holding her at arm's length. Kissing each finger, the spaces between, the back of her hand, the palm, the wrist. She reached out for him with her other hand, he gave it equal measure. <> she thought. Maddening to have him so far away when she wanted so much to be close. His actions were carefully calculated to build her desire. Prolong the play. Intensify the pleasure. Her hand in his, he drew her closer and spun her around. He was standing behind her now. She gasped and tried to turn. He held her tight, locking his cheek against her temple. He held her arms crossed in front of her. She could feel every contour of his body, the ripples of muscles in his arms, chest, thighs. Her breath and pulse raced. She swallowed hard. Cleared her throat. He was making her crazy! He kissed her temple, her cheek, the curve of her neck. Brushed her breasts lightly. She squealed quietly. His hands moving down her waist, her hips, her thighs. She gasped aloud. She reached her hand behind her, grabbed the back of his neck. He kissed her throat. A tremor went through her body. He felt it and smiled. Suddenly he unzipped her dress and let it drop to the floor. She turned her head only, feeling shy. He walked around her, exploring her body as if seeking flaws. His eyes met hers. He smiled. She felt a flood of relief. He swept her up in his arms. Delightful how strong he was! Her arms around his neck, she kissed his lips. He parted her lips with his tongue. She drew in her breath and his tongue. Tongue fencing, two warriors with their weapons. He carried her to the bed. Throwing back the covers, setting her not-too-gently on the bed, crawling in beside her. She was breathing rapidly, shallowly, anticipating. Feeling desire like never before, she was trembling all over. Not cold, nothing to do with cold. Pure desire. Pure passion. His eyes moved across her face, he traced its contours with one hand. So lightly. Barely feel his touch gently stirring the tiny hairs on her face. <> she thought, hoping he would hear. She slipped one hand up his back under the sweater, the other caressed his face. Wrapping her leg around his leg, she tried to raise up and kiss him. Or pull him down to her. He pushed her back down. Follow the leader, remember. She smiled, tried to relax. She willed her body to stop trembling but it would not obey her. He nuzzled her chest, taking pleasure in the beauty of her body. Softly kissing her breast bone, nuzzling there. Licking her from neckline to navel. Delirious chills making her squirm. Running his cheek, his lips, his tongue gently along one breast then the other. Barely touching her. Finally lick/kissing her nipple gently. She arched her back in reply, gasping sharply. Repeats for the other nipple. She squirmed, breathing louder than before, moaning softly, pulling him closer. He pursed his lips and frowned at her playfully, shaking his head a little. Grabbing her wrist, he pinned it down on the bed. Resuming his exploration of her breasts, he began to suckle. After a moment, nirvana! A tremor jerked through her body. She spasmed, quivered, shook all over. Flashes of lightning behind her eyelids. Her heart racing, blood pounding, breath coming in gasps and going out in moans. When she could think again, she realized she must have experienced an orgasm. Her first time! Imagine that, her first one! After all those men -- all those sorry bastards fucking her so her mother could get drug money, and the stupid, pathetic bitch never once lifting a hand to help her, to save her. Her own little girl, and she sold them her innocence. Not even an apology! And now a vampire should finally teach her what sex is supposed to feel like! What making love is really all about! She gave a short, breathy laugh/gasp, and he smiled up at her. Tears in her eyes. Of excitement and joy and pain and even shame. It was then that he realized. He had not known, had never dreamed. "You poor child," he said. "Has no one ever made love to you before?" Her body was suddenly wracked by gasping sobs and her eyes filled with tears of shame and pain and sadness. Her body convulsed from crying this time. He lay back, pulling her close to his chest, regretting what he had said. He whispered to her gently, stroking her hair, trying to quiet her and calm her. He pulled the blankets up so that the added warmth would help diminish her trembling. She clung to him tightly, so afraid that learning her secret would make him hate her. She had not meant to destroy the mood. She WANted him So Much, and she felt certain he wanted her, too. And here she was crying like a baby in his arms. How stupid! She buried her face against his chest. He held her close and in a matter of minutes she dozed, exhausted. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 17:01:12 1996 Date: Fri, 6 Dec 1996 23:25:06 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: ADULT: Since April (22/26) ADULT -- You will also see a chapter 22 that is a PG-13 version of the following. You do not need to read both (unless you want to see how I chopped it ;-) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 22 When she awoke several minutes later, Christine still had her head against his chest. She lay there quietly for a minute, ashamed to face him. As she lay there, she realized his heartbeat was so faint and so slow. She could barely hear it. Remarkable! Realizing she was awake, he stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "Are you being scientific again?" he asked playfully. She raised her head up and looked at him, a startled look on her face. "Listening, analyzing, interrogating," he continued. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "I don't ... mind ... Really I don't," he said and he smiled at her. She smiled back at him, relieved, and once again nuzzled his chest with her cheek. So delicious to be here close to him. How calm she felt now! She teased, "Did you hypnotize me to calm me down?" "Certainly not!" he replied. "I would never hypnotize you ... without your consent." They both laughed, perhaps a little hesitantly, perhaps thinking of what had happened with Nicholas. It occurred to her that this may be the first time she had heard him laugh. What a melody! She hoped to hear it again. Often. He made a sudden move and she found herself lying on her back again, with him looking down at her. He was smiling playfully as he asked, "Do you think that *now* we might continue where we left off?" Just then she felt so many mixed emotions that she was afraid she would start crying again. He kissed her firmly on the lips and then gazed into her eyes. "I didn't mean to make you cry, Christine. Please forgive me, I'm not very good at this." She felt herself on the borderline between laughter and tears. How could he say that? "Well, perhaps you just need more practice," she smiled at him playfully, and then kissed him demandingly. She pulled his sweater off him, wanting desperately to have his bare flesh next to hers. She tried for the pants, but he refused. Now it was her turn to explore. A few very old scars. There were stories there. She would have to ask him ... someday. Hairs on his chest were very light, almost blond. Running her fingers through them playfully. Pulling at them with her lips. So delightful to feel the cool, sinewy flesh of his chest! He was propped on one elbow, lying by her side again. His other hand under the covers, across her ribs, exploring and pinching her lightly at the waist. Cupping first one breast then the other. The feeling was different now, still tingly but of a different kind. He fondled one of her nipples with his tongue. She drew in air sharply, smiled to herself, thrilled with the way this felt. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, caressing his face, playing with his hair, kissing, suckling at his nipple. He lay on her one hand as he grabbed the other and placed it in the custody of his other hand. She squirmed to free herself from the restraint. She knew what he was doing! <> Smiling at his deviousness, giggling a little. He lightly bit her nipple, delighting in her recoil. Lacroix was carefully judging his actions. There was method to all this; the greater her pleasure, the greater his would be. He would draw first blood tonight, but he would not bring her across. Not yet. That was his plan, and he had to keep reminding himself of it because he was feeling such intense desire just from making love to her that it would be quite easy for him to lose control. Casually reaching down. Rubbing her hip, pinching at her hipbone, moving his hand firmly down her thigh. She writhed in pleasure again. Continuing to nuzzle and suckle at her breasts, he reached farther down her leg. Her excitement increased at the prospect that she would finally have him inside her! She had been waiting for this ever since the first moment she saw him. Her breathing rapid and ragged, trembling again. Gripping his back firmly with her one free hand, she struggled to free the other. His vice-like grip held firm, but not hurting. She whisper-begged for him to release her. He loved the sound of that. He smiled up at her and shook his head no. "Damn you!" she said, without intending it. They exchanged shocked looks. "I'm sorry!" she quickly amended. He smiled and bent his head and gently bit her nipple in retribution. She gasped and moaned loudly as he sucked demandingly at the nipple now. Just then he touched the warm, wet place between her legs. Christine arched her back and emitted a sound she had never heard come from herself before. It was something like a shout, but low and from deep inside her chest. Something primal, no doubt, that he was discovering for her. She felt his fingers exploring inside her and she saw lightning once again behind her eyelids. He reached deep inside, then withdrew. Tracing circles around her clitoris, then lightly scraping it with his nail. She gasped and moaned, writhing. And all over again. And again! Slowly, now faster. Now again! For hours or seconds -- too long, yet not long enough. Suckling and jamming and scratching until she thought she would lose her mind. She came again hard this time, her body wracked with the eruptions. He was delighted by her intensity of orgasm. He finally released her imprisoned hand and she immediately coiled herself around him, rapturous with being able to hold him close, continuing to quiver slightly, involuntarily. When she could think clearly again, she wondered how he could stand for her to be so selfish. He must surely want her to pleasure him as well. This must be why he had released her hand. She began to make motions to draw him up or to let her up so she could -- but then she remembered what he had said about her never touching him "there". Suddenly, she had no idea what to do! Could it be that vampires really couldn't fuck, like some of the legends said? At least not the normal man/woman kind of fucking that she was used to (if you could call that normal). After all, what did she know? She had never even had an orgasm before tonight! She had a LOT to learn. She hoped he would be patient and teach her. He raised up on one arm and looked into her eyes. She smiled at him and he smiled back gently. "Please ... tell me what to do," she pleaded with him. "I want to please you." "Just relax," he replied, smiling that precious half-smile. Inching his way lower in the bed, putting one hand under her thigh and raising her leg, kissing the back of her knee. She trembled. Biting her gently just above the back of the knee on the inside of the thigh, licking and kissing her there as well. Running his tongue up her inner thigh almost to the pubes. Nuzzling there lightly and pulling at some of the hairs with his lips. She felt another tremor as she drew in her breath. He released the leg and she wrapped it around him as he reached for the other. Raising her foot to his lips, kissing her ankle, the arch, the toes. He sucked gently on her big toe and Christine giggled. She looked down at him and saw that he was smiling. He ran his hand up the back of that leg, squeezing the muscles as he worked his way up, nuzzling her inner thigh. Christine was breathing so hard, her heart pounding, drumming in her ears. She wanted him NOW and she told him so. But he was not to be rushed. He only smiled at her, gently rubbing first one of his cheeks then the other along the inside of one of her thighs, playfully curling her pubic hairs around his fingers as he did so. She winced and drew in her breath between clinched teeth. He smiled, thrilled at the effect he was having on her. He slipped his hands under her butt to raise it slightly. Just then he cleared a path through the bristly little hairs and sunk his tongue deep inside her. Christine let out another low primal cry, much more intense than before. She was beyond thought at this point. Everything was sensory experience for her now, and that is how it was supposed to be. She could feel Lacroix's tongue exploring deep inside her and pressure at her other opening as well, amplifying the experience even more than she would have believed possible. She came again, virtually exploding with the intensity of her orgasm. Moments later Lacroix had slowly worked his way up her body so that his face was only inches below her breasts. When Christine realized this, she raised her legs and made a move to help him enter her body. "Christine," she heard him say. It sounded like he was miles away. Her breathing was so loud, she could hardly hear him. "Christine," he said again, more insistently this time. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. He had a very serious look on his face and he was also breathing hard. "I want to give you a prick," he said. She laughed a quick little nervous laugh. "Is that what you call it?" she asked. "Please do." Again she reached her hands down to guide his organ inside her. "No ... not that," he said. She didn't understand what he was talking about. She looked at him again and he was totally vamped out, his golden eyes glowing in the candle light showing flecks of red, his fangs glistening. She was in awe of his appearance. She sat up halfway and kissed him on the corner of the mouth. "You're so beautiful!" she exclaimed, cupping his face in her hands. He kissed her palms then he kissed her full on the lips and he whispered, "Trust me?" "Absolutely," she replied without hesitation. He once again put his face into the curly nest and a tremor shot through her body as he lapped at her clit rapidly with his tongue. In a few seconds she was ready to come and just as she did she felt a sharp stinging sensation. He pierced the soft fleshy part near the center of her ecstasy. The blood spurted, gushed into his mouth and he felt its warm salty-sweetness cascading down his throat. He sucked the blood and the clit, giving them both sheer rapture. She emitted a series of loud, deep, guttural moans, indicative of her complete bliss, complete abandon. His euphoria was the equal, but in a very different way. With a supreme act of control, he drank only a little then sealed the wound. Tears were in her eyes later as her spasms subsided and he came to lay beside her again, licking her tears away. She saw that he was still vamped out and there was a little blood in one corner of his mouth. She licked it away and it tasted sweet. She knew it was her own blood and she knew where it had come from. She thought she was beginning to understand. She wrapped her legs around his legs and her arms around his back as he held her close. They held each other tightly for a long while, reveling in the closeness and the pleasure of being together. After a time, Christine, feeling playful and triumphant, couldn't resist any longer and she said, "I think I get it now." He didn't ask what. "Not THE prick, but A prick, right?" He raised his head up and looked into her eyes. He was completely calm now, the vampire had disappeared. He smiled a melancholy kind of smile as he said, "There you are being scientific again. And so, now you know my secret. Can you live with it? Or should I say ... without it?" He was not telling her the whole truth. Soon, but not now. She smiled at him with more feeling than she had ever known for a man before. "Forever, if you'll let me," she said, cocking her head sideways as a single tear worked its way down toward her ear. He licked it away and kissed her gently on the lips. Then he kissed her again not too gently. He knew then -- in her words, her thoughts, and now in her blood. He had his answer. She was his. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 17:01:29 1996 Date: Sat, 7 Dec 1996 23:52:56 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (23/26) Something appears to have gone wrong the first time I sent this tonight. Forgive me if you receive it twice. + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 23 They lay together for a time, wrapped in each other's arms, and chatted about trivial things. Christine wanted to know about his childhood. Anything about himself that he was willing to tell. She really knew very little. He joked that he had been born after the earth cooled -- but not long after. They laughed. Finally, he relented and told her a little about himself as a child. He had not thought about such things in an incredibly long time. He was very brief. He told her that was not who he is now, so what did it really matter. She accepted that, realizing that it was undoubtedly true. After all, she was a far different person now than when she was as a child. Even different than she was last week or last month. Or last April. People change. Vampires change, too. After a while they dozed a little. Christine awoke first and found Lacroix sleeping still. So very still. She could detect no breathing and no heartbeat! She was horrified! He appeared dead. More than Undead. Really dead! She wanted to shake him and rouse him. But she had read about this: be careful of sleeping vampires. They can kill you and not even know it. They die when they sleep, isn't that what the movie said? She remembered Mr. Beauchamp, when she found him dead, and she wept silently. She didn't want Lacroix to be dead. He couldn't be. And yet he appeared to be! Is this what she would be? How awful it was! How awesome and bizarre. "Lacroix." She whispered his name. No response. "Lacroix!" Louder this time, more insistent. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He looked at her, stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. She was so relieved she wanted to cry. "I thought you were dead," she whispered, hiding her face against his chest. "Only napping," he replied. He knew how it looked. He hadn't meant to frighten her, but it was best she knew all that she could. The good and the bad. She held him tight. Surely when she became a vampire this kind of thing wouldn't bother her. She would understand then. All of it. Wouldn't she? A little while later she had to make a potty break and he offered to pour her a glass of wine. He wanted to talk for a while. They got up and dressed. He had the wine waiting for her when she returned and they sat by the fire. He told her about why he had come to Toronto. To be near Nicholas and Janette. No deep details, just a gloss to give her a flavor for how things were between them. Then he went back and told her a little of their history. The old days. He told her how he had met each of them. And when. He told her how he had been a general in the army of the Roman Empire. He had never married. He had a daughter once. He had loved her dearly. Christine listened in awe, deeply grateful for his confidence. She delighted in how the firelight danced across his features, which were so animated as he spoke of his past. So sad when he spoke of his beloved daughter. He was silent for a moment then. In a dramatic change of subject, he asked, "Would you like to go out later tonight? I love the theater and I haven't been in far too long." Christine was shocked at the invitation. "But I'm one of Canada's most wanted..." He smiled slightly. "Only by me," he replied. She felt herself blush slightly. "What do you say? It'll be ... fun. We'll put some sort of disguise on you. No one will know it's you. Perhaps not even you." With this, he had a devious look in his eyes, and that wicked half-smile again. She had her doubts, but she figured he wouldn't suggest it if he wasn't sure it would work. "If you're sure it will be okay ... I'd love to." "Good! By the way, have you seen Phantom of the Opera?" "No, but I've read the book ..." "Of course ... you would have. It's settled then. I have tickets for tonight. Janette is coming with us and perhaps Nicholas. He is ... shall we say angry with me at present. However, Janette may be able to persuade him. She has an uncanny ability to make him see things her way." He smiled and Christine laughed a little and said, "I'll bet she does!" *()*()*()*() Janette had left Christine and Lacroix and had gone straight to Nick's apartment. She meant to talk to him about several things, and she hoped that perhaps they could hunt together. Just like the old days. It was worth a try. He was glad to see her and hear news about Christine, even if he wasn't happy with what he heard. Since it was his night off, he was happy to spend the evening with Janette, doing whatever she wanted. It had indeed been too long. Thrill of the hunt! Such excitement and memories. Times past, spent together. Remember this? A castle feast, soups spiced with rosemary and sweet basil, steaming venison on platters of chased silver, the hearty wines of the Auvergne glimmering in jeweled chalices, with the King and Queen facing them across the great table, vampire eyes on the pale blue tracery of veins above the ruffled lace at the royal necks. They stalked their prey carefully tonight, as always. They followed the young couple back to an apartment, watching them through the windows, making love. They entered silently into the very room and as the lovers reached their zenith, fell upon them and drained them both. In their ecstasy and blood lust, Nick and Janette became the lovers, uniting, entwining, and reaching an even higher plane. They collapsed together, their passions spent yet rekindled. So good to be together again. Too long apart. Love me. Stay with me. Love you. *()*()*()*() Lacroix and Christine talked for hours. Occasional lulls but lots of information. There was so much to learn. So much they didn't know. What a pleasure! What a delight. Lacroix beckoned her to sit at his feet and let him brush her hair. She happily complied. They were quiet for a long while. He knew he would have to leave soon, to feed. The little he had taken from Christine would not sustain him; in fact, would only increase his need to feed. To satisfy the blood lust. He must be strong for later tonight. When the clock struck five, he kissed her and told her he would have to leave. He must feed then sleep, and so must she. She held him close as he rose to leave, and walked him to the door. He kissed her deeply and passionately and she returned the same. Holding her close, nuzzling at her neck, he felt the change begin to come over him. The beast was hungry. He quickly got himself under control without her noticing and left, listening for her to lock the door behind him. He stopped in at his apartment to arm himself. Just in case. He did not intend to be caught unarmed by the Enforcers again. A lovely 6th century dagger he had found during his travels. Very ornately decorated at the hilt. One of his vast collection. It reminded him of the old days. Vampire wars past when arming yourself was commonplace. Enforcers on their righteous crusades to eradicate any who did not comply with the Code. Thankfully they were a little more laid back these days. He went up to the roof then flew out to seek his prey he knew not where. He was so rapturous at being with the girl and so overcome by the hunger, he set down in the first alleyway where he sensed an indigent was sleeping. It did not suit his taste to feed on the common street people, but it was fast and close, so he fed. A little drink to sustain him. Perhaps another, more interesting prey would also cross his path tonight. *()*()*()*() Nick and Janette arranged the crime scene with careful attention to detail. "The lovers with their throats slashed by some crazed intruder with a butcher knife" the headlines would read tomorrow. Nick knew then there was no turning back for him. He would no longer be able to live out his charade as a police officer. In fact, he entertained ideas of never returning to work after tonight. Ironic if he were assigned to investigate this murder! He laughed out loud at the thought. When Janette asked him to share the joke, he kissed her lips and told her he had made his decision. He was as of this moment no longer Nick Knight, Detective. She smiled and nodded her agreement with his decision. She had seen the change coming, had seen him fight it off and on. She was glad he had finally decided. He invited her to take to the air with him, to return to the loft. As they landed back on the roof of Nick's building, they sat for a while, just looking at the moon. "I have to see Lacroix," Nick said suddenly. Janette was a little alarmed. "What are you going to do?" She was almost afraid to know the answer. Nick stared at the moon as he replied, "I can't forgive him for Natalie. For what he took from me. But I can't fight him either. I won't." He hesitated for a moment. "I know he believed it was the best thing. I don't know if I believe it yet, but I suppose in a way I should be grateful to him." Janette put a hand gently on his shoulder. He turned to look into her eyes, and he smiled slightly, a melancholy kind of smile. She smiled back at him with understanding and relief that he had given up his plan to fight his master. He took her hands in his and kissed them. "Wait for me here? Sleep the day with me," he asked/commanded. She smiled, kissed his lips, and agreed she would. He took to the sky without another word and Janette sat hoping it would be all right to let them meet alone. Perhaps she should go referee? No, better that they have it all out. Settle it now. She lifted the skylight pane and dropped in. *()*()*()*() Lacroix had indeed found more interesting prey on his hunt that night. Stock broker type. Misappropriating funds. Cheating on his wife and his taxes. Real slicky boy. The wicked ones had very powerful blood, though they sometimes left a bad taste. He drank enough to leave this one very weak and he even planted a little hypnotic suggestion that the man should clean up his act. That spark of conscience would probably trouble the man more because he would wonder where it came from than because he felt guilt over his evil deeds. It was still about an hour before dawn, but Lacroix decided to return to the Raven, maybe check on Christine, and get some rest. He had a big night planned tonight. He smiled to himself just thinking about it, anticipating. Everything would be perfect. It had to be. As he touched down on the roof, he was met by two shadowy figures. He recognized the leather-clad Enforcer from the previous night, but it was the other that gave him more of a start. He had seen this one before. More than once in reality, and then again in his dreams. Or nightmares. He was Egyptian. One of the truly ancient ones, as were many of the Enforcers. His head was shaven and he had no beard. He was dressed all in black and wearing a black leather overcoat. Quite stylish for an Enforcer. He was about 5ft8 and rather slight of build. He had piercing brown eyes and his skin was pale as milk and smooth as polished alabaster. Lacroix knew through experience that Imre was extremely strong. His appearance always fooled his quarry. "Imre. I hadn't expected you," Lacroix said in a cool greeting. "Lacroix, you know why we are here," Imre replied. Lacroix said nothing. He could sense that Christine was safe and these two had not approached her. Yet. The Enforcers stood firm, also saying nothing. Finally, it was Lacroix who spoke. "It is my intention to bring her across before dawn tomorrow. It has been my intention to do so all along. She has not had contact with anyone but myself." "And Nicholas and Janette," Imre expanded. So he knew! Of course he would. They always did. Lacroix had failed to mention them to protect them. He sent this message telepathically to his old nemesis. "Yes. Indeed. And have you failed to mention anything else?" Imre asked. "We will be leaving the country in a day or two. It is necessary and desirable for us to do so." Imre and the leather-clad-one stood silent as stone guardians. It made Lacroix uncomfortable. He knew that was their intention. Just then, Nicholas came swooping down to stand at Lacroix's side. Lacroix instantly informed him telepathically of the situation and together the two of them stood just as impassive as the two Enforcers. After a very long, uncomfortable silence, Imre finally spoke. "Twenty four hours, Lacroix. No more." Then the two Enforcers flew away into the near-dawn. *()*()*()*() "Are you all right? Is Christine..." Nick asked. "Fine," Lacroix replied quickly. Then he took Nick's hand in his and placed his other hand on Nick's forearm. "I'm glad you were here," he said with emotion. "You knew him," Nick suggested. "Yes. It was a very long time ago. Not happy memories, I assure you." "What did he mean '24 hours'?" Nick was almost afraid to ask. Lacroix looked Nick squarely in the eyes as he said, "I told him I intend to bring her across tonight." Nick's brow wrinkled a little. Was there no way he could stop this? It was too late. He knew that now. Nothing could be done. Either Lacroix would do the deed or the Enforcers would kill her ... or perhaps the two of them. "Christine and I will be leaving in a few days. Perhaps Paris. If the house is still in good condition. I've arranged to have it made ready." Lacroix spoke of one of several houses he owned. Paris, Nice, Madrid, Crete. Nick was quiet and thoughtful for a very long time. Then he spoke, "I wish you well, Lacroix. I've decided I will be leaving as well. Perhaps with Janette, if she will tolerate me." Lacroix nodded, pleased to hear this news. Then he spoke up, "Come with us to the theater tonight. Janette is coming. We are going to Pantages to see Phantom." Nick was quiet. He didn't know ... "Come. Please. It will be like old times." He looked into Lacroix's eyes and could see that the old man was sincere in his desire to have Nick join them. But Nick was torn, knowing that this was prelude to Christine's ... transformation. Nick finally answered, "Yes." Lacroix smiled. "Good, then it's settled." Neither of them could ignore the sun coloring the sky. They would have to go inside soon. "Please tell Janette that if she means to do those female things with Christine that she spoke of, she should be here just at dark. Curtain is at eight." Nick had no idea what he was talking about, but he said he would deliver the message. They exchanged another smile. Nick flew off home. Lacroix went downstairs. Time to retreat from the dawn. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMMon Dec 9 17:01:38 1996 Date: Sun, 8 Dec 1996 22:25:53 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (24/26) Additional credits: The Nightcrawler quote comes from Be My Valentine. Thanks again to Lisa P. and the author of the script. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 24 As Lacroix entered his rooms, he suddenly felt terribly alone. It was cold and dark. No one had lit the fire, the candles. It appeared that no one lived there. He suddenly was struck with the feeling that indeed no one DID live there. He existed -- at times not too happily. And truth be told, he had been only existing lately. And for quite some time. He thought of Fleur, Nicholas' sister, whom he had loved so very long ago. He had never truly loved anyone before or since Fleur. And yet these feelings he had for Christine made his love of Fleur pale by comparison. He felt in a way a traitor to her memory. And yet, he was exhilarated by the feelings he was experiencing for Christine. Imagine after nearly 2000 years to finally find your perfect match! Could that be the case? Only time would tell. And yet, did he have that right? How could he be sure this was right for her? He thought of the girl in the next room. She was only 22. Young, vibrant, her whole life ahead of her. A mortal life that would end naturally within the space of 50 or 60 years. She might know true love. With a mortal man. Children, grandchildren. Sadness and strife. Bliss. Did he have a right to take that from her? Just to ease his own loneliness? And that sense of hopelessness she was feeling now, would it not pass in time? She said she loved him. She also said she did not know what love really was. He agreed with that assessment. He could not define it either. Could anyone? He suddenly had to see her. *()*()*()*() As he entered her bedroom, he could smell the smoky embers dying in the fireplace. He walked over to the bed where she lay. Her bare shoulders were uncovered and she was facing away from him. Her skin so smooth, scent of peaches. He remembered the taste of her. He wanted so desperately to touch her. He put out his hand, but hesitated. With his hand inches above her back, he traced its contours. He could feel her warmth. He could sense the smoothness of her skin, the tiny, almost invisible hairs on her back. He was fascinated with a tiny mole he hadn't noticed before and a little scar of some kind. There was so much to discover about her. The events of the night had left him feeling heady as if from too much wine. He wanted to slip in beside her, to hold her near. Then he remembered her reaction earlier to his napping, thinking he was dead. How could he ask her to understand this thing that he was? To BE this thing that he was? He felt a tightening in his chest. Was it tears? Or fears? Such strong emotions he had not felt in ages. All because of this girl. Too painful to love her, to love anyone. And yet how could he not love her? How could he live without someone to love? Without someone to love him. Yes, he had been alone FAR too long. He moved his hand to caress her shoulder, possibly turn her over, wake her, tell her he was near. Make love to her all over again. As he touched her shoulder, a ray of sun fell on the back of his hand! Pain! Burning! He withdrew his hand suddenly, angrily. Shocked by the implication of it. Could it be a message from the gods? ((Touch her and you will burn.)) In hell, no doubt. Wouldn't he already burn in hell for all he had done? Why would the gods send him this message now? Did they mean to protect her, to effect her release? He saw the sunbeam shining on her back. It caused her no harm. No pain. No reaction whatsoever. She was mortal, after all. Why should the sun harm her? He stared at her for another moment. He did not like to have doubts. It was most ... annoying. He put the doubts aside. This would work out. It had to. He would make it work. He went to the window and drew closed the shutters. Then he pulled the covers up over her shoulders and she took a deep breath and rolled over slightly. She continued to sleep. He stroked her hair lightly and then kissed her, his lips barely touching her cheek. He had never known such strong feelings for a woman before. He couldn't understand why this woman. What was it about this particular woman that touched his heart so? But then who could know when and why love chose to come to you, to slip into your heart like a thief in the night? It was then that an old Nightcrawler monologue came to him in a flash of memory: [Flashback] [1995, Valentine's day] "Love, a blip on the monitor of involuntary human response, a hiccup of emotion when compared with envy, hatred, lust. ... Power comes with the absence of love. Love drains us of our power." [Present] [Raven, Christine's room] He believed that then. Did he still? The involuntary part, yes. He never meant to love this girl. And yet, in time, he felt he would be willing to die for her. And the powerlessness. He felt stripped of his power. Weak, ineffectual against this opponent called "love". He hated the feeling, and yet realizing the source he was willing to accept it. He could overcome it in time. And was it truly an opponent or should he welcome it as a friend? The sun was too bright. The emotions too great. He had to turn away from her. He went back to his cold, quiet, solitary rooms and sought sleep. He desired not to dream. In dreams he might see her future. Without him. Or his future without her. Or Imre's effect on both their futures. He did not want to see any of these visions. Better to have the dreamless death sleep than to know any of the secrets the gods might have in store for them. He found that dreamless sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. *()*()*()*() Nick's phone rang at about four that afternoon. It was Lacroix, anxious that Janette should be there as soon as possible. Nick could come too, if he liked. There was a great deal to be done. Nick hung up and smiled to himself. He loved to see the old man rattled as he was now. Then his smile quickly faded as he remembered the reason for all the commotion strange. A new vampire was about to be ... born. Janette had everything ready. Almost. She needed to know if Christine needed shoes. Call Lacroix to find out. Nick dialed back, relaying the message. Have to find out. Get back to you. They rang off. Nick just shook his head. All this over a trip to the theater. Then it occurred to him, maybe Christine had never been to a play before. She certainly didn't have anything in that little tote bag of hers for a stylish night out on the town. Suddenly Nick was glad for Christine's sake that Janette was there to help out. It occurred to him then that what they were doing was more than a little crazy. After all, there was an APB out for Christine, along with a fairly good likeness he had helped construct. And he was going to be there with them! All he would need now was for Morales or some other officer to see him with the girl at the play. Just as suddenly as this thought came to him, he realized it really didn't matter to him any more. It did but it didn't. He would be out of here in a matter of days. Leaving this life behind. Leaving everyone wondering where he had disappeared to. The thought excited him. He felt a little guilty about his plans, but he felt more guilty about not feeling ... more guilty about it all. He was ready to move on. The phone rang. Lacroix. Size 7 on the shoes, black or blue. Tell Janette, and Christine has chosen a dress from those here in the room. Hurry! Women! All Nick would do is pull out his old tux (they never really go out of style for men), dust it off, and get dressed. But women had to make a big deal of a night out. Oh well, let them have their fun. Janette came downstairs, made a quick call, then smiled to Nick as she reached for the keys to the Caddy. She had to go pick up the hairdresser and hurry on over to the Raven. Don't forget the shoes! Of course not! Kiss on the cheek. Bye! She left Nick standing there in the middle of the room, shaking his head. Oh well, no rush for me! He sat down to read a while. Plenty of time before he would go out for a quick bite, then come back and shower and dress. *()*()*()*() Lacroix had been sitting with Christine, talking and trying to answer her million questions about how the theater would be tonight. She had been to a couple of plays, but they were amateur or college productions. Nothing like the Phantom of the Opera at the Pantages Theatre. Lacroix had opted for the VIP Suite, which would give them more privacy and isolate them from the mobs of people attending. He loved the theater atmosphere, but he still liked to maintain a discreet distance from mortals. Unless, of course, he was entertaining them for a particular financial or social reason. He had through the centuries chosen to insinuate himself into society from time to time, and had carefully chosen certain mortals who could make all the proper introductions for him. Tonight was not the case. He wanted a quiet family situation. Christine's memories of her last night must be special. Her last night! The thought made him smile to himself. Her last night AND her first night. He smiled at her and stroked her hair tenderly. She noticed a sudden change in him. He seemed a bit sad. "Penny for your thoughts," she smiled at him. He shook his head. "They're not worth it," he lied. *()*()*()*() A knock at the door and Janette appeared, loaded down with packages and accompanied by a young man. Introductions all around. The man was Monsieur Henri, Janette's favorite hairdresser. Lacroix knew it was time for him to make his exit. This was the commencement of feminine nonsense he had NO desire to be witness to. He kissed Christine tenderly on the forehead, holding her close. She kissed him on the lips, returning his embrace. Then he kissed Janette, whispered his thanks, and made his exit. Janette was very excited, that much was obvious to Christine. She opened bags containing all sorts of girly stockings, underwear, and lacy, frilly things. She had brought all this sexy-girly stuff because she had observed that Christine owned nothing really ... pretty. And Janette's gift to her tonight was to help her look and feel ... pretty. Janette wanted to know which dress Christine had chosen, then she helped her coordinate the other paraphernalia to accompany it. It would work beautifully. Christine was concerned with M. Henri. She whispered to Janette, "Is he ..." "Gay? I believe so, don't you?" Janette replied. "No!" Christine laughed. "I meant is he a vampire?" "Mais non! [No way] A bit gothic, perhaps, but he is not one of ... us." Janette rolled her eyes a little, laughed her lyrical little laugh, then kissed Christine on the cheek. "Now come!" she said. "We'll have our hair done and make ourselves irresistibly beautiful for our male companions. "By the way," Janette continued, "I have brought you something special." She handed Christine a package of depilatory cream to remove hair 'below the skin line', as the package said. She looked Christine squarely in the eyes and said slowly, "Unless you want to shave your legs throughout eternity, you might want to start using this. Tonight." Christine felt herself go numb in the extremities. <> "Not that I know anything it for certain, understand me," Janette continued, "but speaking as one woman to another, I can tell you that I wish we had such things back in my day." Then she smiled and kissed Christine's cheek, hugging her close. "But then again, back in my day we didn't shave our legs!" They both laughed. *()*()*()*() Lacroix had gone back to his room, paced a while, uncertain what to do to occupy his time, then he had gone out. He had walked nearly to The Beaches before he even realized it. He fed again on "fast food", then flew over to Nick's loft to see how he was passing the time. Nick wasn't there, so he had flown back to the Raven. He showered again and dressed, taking special care to look his best. The phone rang. Nick. On the roof of the Raven, and he needed to get inside. Lacroix went up to let him in. They walked around on the roof for a while, talking a bit nervously to avoid the business at hand. Lacroix knew what he would do tonight. Nick didn't want him to do it. Neither one was willing to discuss this conflict. Nick had presented all his arguments, and he had lost. Best to let it go. From the roof, Lacroix saw the limo pull up in the alley. Nick was impressed. The old man was really doing it up in style! They went down to greet the driver and told him to wait while they rushed the females along. Back upstairs, Lacroix and Nick at Christine's door. They knocked and were admitted by an absolutely stunning, absolutely radiant Janette. "*Entrez vous, messieurs, s'il vous plait*." [Come in gentlemen, if you please.] Janette made a broad sweeping motion with her hand, welcoming them inside. She was dressed in low-cut crimson velvet with a black ribbon choker at her neck and an ancient cameo pendant. Nick remembered giving it to her several hundred years ago. Her hair was a triumph for Henri. He had cut it very short and tamed it into a halo of loose curls. Very becoming. It would grow back to its normal length in a few days, but of course Henri didn't know that. Janette enjoyed playing with radically different hairstyles from time to time. Nick took her hand and, bowing from the waist, he tenderly kissed it. She was wearing scent of jasmine. He had always loved it. Lacroix was also impressed by what he saw. He took her offered hand and kissed it, complimenting her and Henri on a masterpiece. Henri blushed and muttered something about the sculptor being unable to work without the proper clay. "Messieurs!" Janette had flitted into the dressing room and just come flitting back. "*Permettez-moi de vous presenter*, Mademoiselle Christine!" [Let me introduce you] The young woman came walking into the room and they all stood speechless and breathless in awe. It took a little while before they could recognize this beautiful creature as the jeans-and-t-shirt girl they had become acquainted with. She was radiant in a royal blue shantung. The dress was backless and had a little collar that buttoned tight at the neck. There was a keyhole opening from neck to navel, nearly revealing her creamy breasts. The straight skirt was floor-length, but slit to reveal her right leg up to the thigh. Her cascading curls and tendrils were M. Henri's contribution to the overall effect. Lacroix's heart was in his throat as he walked to her, took her hand and raised it to his lips. "My child, you are perfection." He could barely whisper it. Christine's heart swelled with pride and joy that she had pleased him. She held his hand to her cheek, unable to speak. Nick and Janette exchanged glances, Nick sending her an unspoken message that she could be very proud of what she had done here tonight. No matter what would happen next, the girl seemed sublimely happy. And so did the master. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMTue Dec 17 17:04:31 1996 Date: Tue, 10 Dec 1996 21:13:08 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (25a/26) Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 25a They dropped off the well-paid and unsuspecting Monsieur Henri on their way to the theater. The VIP service entitled them to a private entrance to the theater, a private box, and access to the VIP lounge. They went up, schmoozed for a while, and each had a glass of champagne. Christine was so excited. The three vampires could sense it, and her intensity was infectious to them. Chattering and joking together, meeting some of the other patrons, they were generally having a wonderful time. They encountered some curious glances. This was not unusual. They enjoyed it, but knew they could allow themselves to enjoy too much of it. The vampires also enjoyed exchanging some silent observations about the humans in the room. It was a game to them. They tried to silently share in the fun with whispers to Christine. Great fun! Then curtain time. What a powerful, breathtaking performance this was! Christine was in awe through much of the first act. At intermission they were going back down to the VIP lounge when Nick spotted Natalie Lambert in the theater. He felt an overwhelming desire to go to her. Talk to her. Find out if she remembered him at all, if seeing him would jog her memory. Lacroix and Janette tried to stop him, but he would not be denied. They and Christine went with him, maintaining a discreet distance. The crowd was elbow-to-elbow. Nick felt himself being pushed along with the flow, unable to control his direction. He gradually worked his way over to Natalie in the lobby, where she was having a glass of champagne with her companions, two women Nick did not know. He stood there for a minute, staring at her, unsure how to begin. She looked at him. Straight at him! No reaction. He tried to read in her thoughts if she had registered any recognition, anything. Nothing! Except perhaps a little discomfort at having some "stranger" standing there staring at her. He went straight up to her, smiling. "Natalie Lambert! Good to see you. How have you been?" She looked puzzled, "I'm sorry, do I know you?" That cut at his heart like a stiletto. "Nick Knight. I'm a detective at the 96th. We've worked together before. Night shift?" "Oh! Detective Knight! Of course I remember you." He didn't believe she did. He didn't feel her recognition of him. Another cut at his heart. She introduced him to her two friends. As she did so, she was looking past him, where Janette and Lacroix stood. <> she thought to herself. Lacroix heard this thought, touched Janette on the arm, and told her that they had better step away. He had suspected that seeing the three of them together might be enough to cause her to start remembering. He said to Christine, "Go tell Nicholas I said to come away NOW." Christine did as she was told. Lacroix was also sending him telepathic warnings. Nick wanted to stay and talk to Natalie. Being with her again was a strange sensation. He felt nothing for her, other than being vaguely attracted to her because she was a beautiful woman. But it was all very clinical, no emotion in it. He was also afraid that if Christine stood there any longer Natalie might perhaps recognize her from the composite that was circulating the precinct. Nick took Natalie's hand in his. He just held it for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he looked into her eyes. She still had no recollection of him other than a vague one of Det. Knight from the 96th. He smiled at her, a cheerless little smile, then shook her hand and said goodbye. As he turned to walk away, his heart felt heavy. Part of him wanted to run back to her. To tell her what they had and how it had been taken from them. He knew that it would serve no purpose. He knew that he must never see her again. *()*()*()*() Nick was numb from all his mixed emotions as he brushed past Lacroix. The master touched Nick's elbow and sent to him telepathically ((Come away, Nicholas. There is nothing for you here.)) Nick jerked his arm away from Lacroix and spoke venomously and a little too loudly. "Thanks to you, that is!" Heads were turning. The patrons in the lobby wondering what the commotion was about. Instantly, the two vampires were the picture of decorum, all differences resolved for the sake of prying eyes. Simmering beneath the surface, however, was another matter. Lacroix did not need to read Nick's thoughts to know his pain and confusion. His anger. It was clearly written on his face. The four returned to their box without speaking another word. Nick was silent and withdrawn. Janette put her arm around Christine's waist, trying to comfort her. She could feel Christine's concerns over the encounter. Christine had not seen the two males come so close to physical violence and it frightened her. She could understand -- or thought she could -- both viewpoints, and wished there was something she could do to help them make peace. Once again, however, she thought it best if she mind her own business. Janette whispered to her, "It will be all right. It always is." Lacroix heard Christine's thoughts and felt her concerns on the matter. He did not want Nicholas' outburst to spoil the evening for her. He sent a telepathic message ((Please, Nicholas, do not allow your pain to infect Christine. For her sake, if she has ever meant anything to you, speak to her kindly so she will think you are no longer angry.)) Nick was surprised at the old man's words. That he would have the audacity to ask it. He looked at him squarely and spoke so silently that only Lacroix could hear. "Only for her sake." After another moment, Nick leaned towards Christine and whispered over her shoulder, "Isn't this set incredible!" Hearing his unexpected whisper, Christine felt chills down her side. She had been so engrossed in the play that she hadn't felt him lean near to her. "Yes, it is," she whispered in reply. She turned to look at him and she saw him smiling at her in the darkness, then he turned his attention back to the stage. Christine felt a tremendous sense of relief that Nick's angry outburst was past. She felt certain that all the anger was not resolved, but at least it was on the back burner for now. Lacroix sensed her relief and he sent a message of thanks to Nicholas, as he reached for Christine's hand and gently kissed it. *()*()*()*() After the play, the ride back in the limo consisted of lots of laughter and discussion of the plot and performances. Nick was still a bit morose, but he did join in from time to time. It had been a fabulous performance, as always, they guaranteed Christine. She was making comparisons to the book, asking for clarification on points, humming some of the more haunting melodies. If only she could remember the words! Lacroix told her he would buy her the soundtrack, and besides there was a web site where she could get the entire script! She had to see it, she said. He just smiled and said, "Not tonight." She smiled and curled up against his chest, holding him close. They arrived at the Raven and Nick and Janette wisely and subtly declined the half-hearted invitation to come upstairs. They would take the Caddy and go, either out on the town or back to the loft. They would call tomorrow. Late tomorrow, Lacroix suggested firmly. Better yet, he would call them. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMTue Dec 17 17:04:39 1996 Date: Tue, 10 Dec 1996 21:13:21 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: ADULT: Since April (25b/26) ADULT -- You will also see a chapter 25b that is a PG-13 version of the following. You do not need to read both (unless you want to see how I diluted it ;-) Additional: I created my Christine without consciously realizing that the character in Phantom of the Opera was named Christine. Swear it! + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 25b Lacroix ushered Christine into her room and locked the door behind them. Locking the world outside. Tonight they two would be a world unto themselves. Tonight she would leave one world and enter another. His world of darkness, much as the Christine in the play. He took her in his arms and held her close, drinking in the scent of her. She smelled of jasmine, peaches, springtime, and of the tantalizing, shimmering liquid of life swirling through her veins. She kissed his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. She removed his jacket then unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off him, kissing his neck, his chest. His head began to spin. He cupped her chin in his hands. "Christine, listen to me carefully," he said solemnly. "Do you want to be with me ... for all time?" Her lips parted slightly with the sudden realization that the time had come. She smiled and her breathing became more rapid. "Oh yes! Yes I do. Very much, please." "You will die a mortal death as you cross over to become what I am. You know this?" "Yes, I understand," she replied. "I will not leave your side. You will not die alone. Even though the death is brief, it is unpleasant. I cannot deceive you on this matter. I want you to know as much as you can. I want you to be certain, to have no regrets." She took his hands in hers and kissed them. She looked him in the eyes and with an unwavering gaze said, "Lacroix, I've never loved a man before, but I know that I love you. I want to be with you for as long as you'll have me. And if tonight is an end to it ... I want to thank you for the time we've had." There was a glint of a tear in her eyes as she kissed him firmly on the lips, a long passionate kiss intended to convey her sincerity. He kissed her throat as he undid the button on her dress. There was a little zipper in the back to undo, and he kissed her bare shoulders as he took care of it. As he slid the dress off her, he caressed her bare breasts and pulled her close to him. He nuzzled at her neck, teasing, tasting with his tongue. He knelt down on his knees in front of her, slowly removing her underthings. The sexy, girly underthings that he knew Janette had supplied her -- supplied them both -- with. He would have to thank her later for providing such an abundance of annoying things to remove! Christine was quivering with delight at his touch. He made everything feel so sensual, so delicious, so completely sexual. In another minute she was nude, and he was stroking her gently with his strong, cool hands. Suddenly he placed a firm hand on the place between her legs where he had spent so much time the night before. A tremor passed through her body and she gasped. He looked up at her, took her hand in his, and pulled her to kneel with him. He kissed her lips and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his chest as he ran his hands across her shoulders. He licked at her neck, her breasts, then down her arm to her wrist. Christine was running her fingers through his hair, holding her body close to his. Her eyes were closed, enjoying the nearness of him. Suddenly she felt a sharp sting on her wrist! She looked at him and saw that he was drinking from her wrist. She felt as if she were swirling out of the punctures, being drawn into him. She felt an intense longing for him, and pulled him nearer. She began nuzzling at his ear, his neck, holding him close. She heard a faint roaring in her ears, as if listening to a shell at the seashore. She felt herself floating and closed her eyes to allow herself to drift. So peaceful, so calm. She noticed then the swirling had subsided a little. He was licking her wrist gently now. He looked into her eyes, and he was back to normal, except his eyes were still gold flecked with red. Other than that, the vampire was gone! She saw that the bites on her wrist were nearly healed. He got up off the floor and helped her up. She was still floating and a littly shaky. He led her to the bed and she pulled back the covers. She sat down on the edge of the bed, beckoning him to come to her. He stood between her knees and put her hands on his belt. She looked into his eyes, alarm apparent in her expression. "I'm ready now to tell you everything," he said. "To show you everything. Tonight no secrets or half truths. Tonight I'm all yours. And you are all mine." She was breathing raggedly and rapidly, her breath catching in her throat a little. Her fingers fumbled slightly as she undid his belt and his zip. Then he helped her slip the slacks down and he stepped out of them. He was wearing nothing underneath, and when Christine saw him standing there in front of her, it took her breath away. When she had observed earlier that he was powerfully built, she had no idea to what extent that was true. He slid into the bed beside her, pulling up the covers as it was a bit cold in the room. He explained that he required mortal blood to perform as she hoped he could. He hoped he would not disappoint her. She assured him there was very little chance of that. "But why did you let me believe ..." she began. "To be completely honest with you, in almost 2000 years I have come to not enjoy this kind of sex as much as sharing the blood of my lover. To function in this way, I require living mortal blood, which makes the timing sometimes ... awkward. The union is far too brief and somewhat ... inadequate. But you're being scientific again, and this is no time for it," he smiled at her, then he reached into her curly nest as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. After her first orgasm, Lacroix slid his member into her warm, wet sheath. He rode her for a while as she reeled from the ecstasy of it and she came again. Then in a quick movement, he placed himself beneath her and let her ride until she approached climax again. Hips pumping, hands groping, pulling her onto him harder and harder until finally he reached his own climax. She felt the explosion inside herself and it caused another exposion of herself. She pulled him up to her chest and they held each other close. Their hips were still pumping slightly. They seemed to be unable to stop and yet unable to go on. After a time, Lacroix laid back and pulled Christine down to lay beside him. He pulled out of her and gently turned her on her side. He put his leg between her legs and once again sheathed his cock. She drew in her breath sharply. She reached around to caress his leg, his ribs, to rub his chest and he sucked at her nipple. The feel of this was beyond compare. Having his massive organ inside her was just what she had hoped for, more than she could have hoped for. He was phenomenal in his attention to her desires. He even attended desires she didn't know she had! As she neared another orgasm, Lacroix whispered in her ear, "Now there will be blood." He sank his fangs into her neck and she drew in her breath sharply as she came. She felt herself falling through space and time. She heard a swirling noise and a dull, slow pounding. She envisioned herself being drawn into him, the two of them becoming fused. She heard his voice as if at the end of a long tunnel telling her to drink. She felt him pressing his wrist against her lips, felt the warm elixir touch her tongue. She sucked gently at first, unable to make her body obey. The blood burned her tongue. Not from the heat of it, but from the power it contained. She tasted his life in the blood. Saw flashes of memories that must be his. A woman with long red hair bathing him as a child ... going off to battle at such an early age ... a leader among men, recognized for valor and promoted through the ranks ... making love to a beauty with dark hair ... weeping with joy at the birth of his daughter ... the dark trick being worked on him by a beautiful young woman -- Divia! Who was she? ... a slave girl in Egypt, kneeling in the dirt at his feet, begging him to spare her, as his fangs hungrily descended ... the plush gilt of the Paris opera house, the tall woman beside him in bloodred velvet as he watched the faint heartbeat in the hollow of her arching throat ... blood-colored waves against pink sand, staining the midnight edge of horizon sky and a young woman's bare, waiting flesh ... the reeking Berlin alehouse, the round-eyed whore in his lap, giggling, her breath foul with drink, her blood-rich neck gleaming in the smoky light ... a spirited prostitute with dark hair and dark eyes in a Paris brothel, wishing for the strength to overcome her oppressors -- Janette! ... a handsome young knight, fresh from the crusades, and weary with the killing -- Nicholas! All these visions were overwhelming in their clarity, blinding in their speed. It was like an old-time picture show, photographs rapidly flipping to give the over-all effect of motion. She felt her body being lifted. Limp as a rag doll. Sitting on Lacroix's lap now, facing him, wrapping her legs around his back. She saw him cut his own neck with one of his nails. Saw the thick blood begin to trickle down. In the candlelight it looked black, not red. She was transfixed, mesmerized looking at it. "Drink!" he said again. As she lapped at it, she felt his fangs penetrate her neck again and she gasped with rapture. She put her lips against the cut he had made in his neck and suckled as a starving baby drinking in nourishment, for surely that is what she was. And what this blood was to her. In this golden circle of blood, Lacroix felt the last of Christine's life-blood slip away. He had drained her to the brink, replacing her blood with as much of his own as he dared to spare, then drawing it back and giving it again. In this way, he ensured that the deed was properly done. She would be very powerful. They would be a source of power to each other. He withdrew his fangs and pulled her away from the opening in his neck. It was nearly healed now, and she had grown weak. They both had. Time to rest. Hold her close. Watch her die. Only a mortal death. It happens to every vampire. She would sleep now. And wake to a whole new world. *()*()*()*() From pricec@CONNECTI.COMTue Dec 17 17:04:45 1996 Date: Tue, 10 Dec 1996 21:58:45 -0600 From: CousinCp To: Multiple recipients of list FKFIC-L Subject: Since April (26/26) If you've stuck with me through all this, I hope you've enjoyed the story. It was very cathartic for me to write it and I learned a lot in the process. Much like Christine, I have a mental treasure trove of vampire trivia and if I sometimes strayed from pure FK canon I hope I did not offend you too blatantly. BTW: I had a dream the other night that a new episode of FK was on television and I went into such a panic that I woke up before I could find a tape to record it! + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + Since April by Carolyn Price (c) Oct. 1996 Chapitre 26 Nick drove away from the Raven after leaving Lacroix and Christine. Janette could sense his mood was solemn. He must be feeling guilty that he couldn't save the girl. Or sadness at seeing his Doctor again, who hadn't even known him. Or both, knowing him. She tried to strike up a conversation with him about some trivial matter. The fat lady in the funny hat at the theater or her short, be-spectacled consort. He didn't acknowledge her at all. He just drove. All the way to the lakeshore. They sat quietly in the car for a time. Though the night was chill, he had the top down. The cold didn't bother them much. He stared at the stars. Quiet for a long while. "You know I've decided to leave here," he said at last. "Come with me to Quebec, then. Be a bohemian artist for a while. An eccentric. A recluse. I'll be your model, and I guarantee it will be fun!" He saw the look in her eyes and it made him want her more than ever. It might be fun to be an eccentric bohemian artist. For a while. He pulled her close to him. There was much to talk about, but he didn't feel like talking now. *()*()*()*() They fed then returned to the loft just before dawn. So much to be done when they woke. Closing up the loft, moving things to Quebec or into storage. Moving on to a new life. Nick held Janette close, watching her sleep. So good to be back with her again. Why had they drifted apart? He thought of Christine and tried to immediately banish the thought. Too late. Nothing he could do. One more mistake to add to his burden. Never get to heaven with so many strikes against him. It occurred to him then that his idea to die with Natalie would have been a fool's folly. She was so good and kind she must have her place in heaven. How could he have ever thought that they could be together in death. He knew with a certainty that if there was a hell other than the one on earth, he would undoubtedly be placed there on his final death. Eventually he slept and dreamed fitfully of fire and brimstone. And he thought the devil had Lacroix's face! *()*()*()*() Christine awoke at dusk to a hunger such as she had never known. Her body felt as if it were being wrung inside out. Lacroix helped her through the last stages of her mortal death. He was very patient with her and kind. She was crying and screaming at one point from frustration, pain, hunger. He simply took it in stride. He had seen it before. They went up to the roof and he took her in his arms to fly away to hunt. He knew just the place. She fed hungrily on her first victim, hearing a crunching sound. Lacroix explained that she had broken the man's neck. Her strength was increasing already. Would increase more. She must be careful not to break their bones. Don't worry! You'll learn. And remember to always stop before the heart stops. He smiled at her, stroked her hair, tenderly hugged her. Told her she had done well. Then he showed her what to do with the body. She was beginning to notice the differences in the sights and sounds of the world around her. Her transformation was not yet complete, and yet so much had changed. She was pacing with excitement, Lacroix admiring her. She had a thousand questions and she began to rapid-fire them at her master. After a while he sensed that she needed to calm down and he told her so. She could not, so he lifted her in his arms and flew away with her again. She wanted to "try her wings" and he allowed her to do so. She dropped like a rock into the lake. She came up sputtering and laughing hysterically, at how she must look. "Why didn't you tell me?" she challenged him, as he lifted her out of the cold water. "You had to learn for yourself. You can't do everything in one night!" He lifted her in his arms again, taking her back to the Raven to get dry clothes. She wanted to make love when they returned, and they found to their delight that her blood was apparently still mortal enough to provide the needed spark. Or perhaps true love could overcome the restrictions Lacroix had spoken of? They would be delighted to explore this possibility in the days and years to come. They sat in a warm whirlpool bath later, talking, making plans. He told her about Paris. She was delighted. They would leave day after tomorrow, if she felt strong enough. A few days in New York, then a special night flight of the Concorde to London. A few days there, if she liked, then a hop across to Paris. He had made arrangements to have the house made ready. Yes, her passport was all taken care of. They dressed and went to his room. Christine was excited to enter his sanctum sanctorum. She had not been invited here before this. She thought that his rooms suited him well, much as her room undoubtedly reflected Janette's tastes. It was a bit austere, yet very masculine in colors and textures. Collections of swords and daggers prominently displayed. Books and paintings, some first editions and lost masterpieces. She wandered around taking it all in while he phoned Nicholas. "Can we come over?" He wanted to see his beloved children one more time before leaving. He would confirm with them his plans to go to Paris. He wanted also to let them know that they were included in those plans, if they wanted to be. He walked up behind his newborn quietly and wrapped his arms around her. She caressed his arms and leaned against him. It felt so good. So right. Who knew? "Let's go," he whispered in her ear. Then they were up in the sky again, making the short hop to Nick's loft. They landed lightly on the roof and then dropped in through the skylight. *()*()*()*() When Nick and Janette first laid eyes on the newborn vampire, they felt awe. They always did. It was such an awesome sight to see the transformation of a mortal into an immortal. She stood a little straighter, a little more confident. Her hair was thicker, fuller, shinier. More brown, more gold. Her eyes fairly glowed with the clarity of their green and grey. Her features more intense. Her full lips perhaps a little redder. The angularity of her features had softened and her peaches and cream complexion was a little more creamy now. She still had her mortal tan, of course; that would take years to fade. But her skin had a different kind of glow to it. Lacroix spoke, "My children, *je vous presente* [may I present] Mademoiselle Christine Delacroix." Her eyes flashed at him with delight. She had not heard this name before. He handed her a little booklet ... her passport. As she looked inside, she learned that indeed this was her new name. Janette came to her and hugged her close, kissing her on both cheeks, stroking her hair and speaking words of congratulations and encouragement. Nick was next. Would he wish her well? She offered her hand to him. He hesitated a moment, then took it and kissed it. He also offered her some kind words. And he seemed sincere. They sat and talked for a while about their plans. Lacroix invited them to Paris, but they told him about their plans for Quebec. "Come whenever you're ready," he said. They said they would. They returned the invitation. "You have a home in Quebec..." He gave Janette back the deed to the Raven, telling her she could do with it whatever she pleased. He had never transferred it into his name. Besides, he did not like to be bothered with business matters when he was so far away. It seemed all there was left to do now was pack. They all sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to think of a reason not to part. Finding none, Lacroix was the first to stand. He walked to Janette and she stood to embrace him. He held her close for a very long time. There were a few tears from them both, then a kiss on each cheek and on the lips. It touched Christine very deeply. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and as she brushed them away she saw they were tinted pink. So it was real! Blood tears! She was really a vampire now! Janette came to sit beside Christine and put her arms around her. Lacroix took a step toward Nicholas, who had stood when Janette did. They stood facing each other for a minute, not speaking, not knowing what to say. Finally Lacroix opened his arms to Nicholas, without saying a word. Nick rushed into those open arms, pulling his master close, resting his head against Lacroix's cheek. They held each other for what seemed hours, not speaking. Too much to say. Too much to forgive. Not knowing where to begin. Christine noticed that tears were flowing down Janette's cheeks as well as her own. Christine could feel Janette's joy at the sight of the two males she loved best finally making their peace with each other. Christine actually *sensed* these feelings from Janette. And she thought she heard Janette speak, though she knew it had not been aloud. So many new powers for the newborn vampire to cultivate! At length, the males kissed each other on both cheeks, reluctantly releasing their embrace. They both had tears on their cheeks. Lacroix's lip trembled slightly as he gave Nicholas one last kiss gently on the lips. Nick lowered his head, tears freely flowing now, as his master stepped away. "We have had some times here, have we not?" Lacroix spoke after a moment. They nodded and muttered in agreement. No one wanted to be the first to leave. Finally, Lacroix stood in front of Christine, offering her his hand. "Come, child, you must be hungry again." As a matter of fact, Christine realized she was. She put her hand in his and stood beside him. "You will stay in touch," Lacroix commanded more than asked. They said they would. Lacroix gave each of them his trademark half-smile, this time a little more bittersweet than usual, and he lifted Christine into his arms. In a flash they were through the skylight, soaring into the dark Toronto skies. Lacroix held her close. She could feel his heart beating. She had never seen him exhibit such emotion as he had tonight. She knew that he would miss them terribly. She also sensed that this was not an end, just another new beginning. She whispered a silent prayer that she would be able to make him happy, to fill his heart. She would try her best. After all, she had forever to learn. And he was an excellent teacher. *(*)* FIN *(*)*