Should this piece meet with the approval of the ftp site owner, I would be pleased and honored to have my fiction archived. This story was written as a thankyou gift for the site owner and all the other talented authors who have so generously dedicated their talents to keeping the Forever Knight characters alive. Hello all. I'm a fairly recent addition to the list, having only discovered its existence in February. During that time, I read so many stories, by so many talented authors who all had something new and wonderful to add to the perspective of the Forever Knight show. After my gluttony of fiction reading, I felt that I had to give something back to all the people who offered me no little amount of entertainment and smiles. So, here's my first attempt at Fan Fiction, it is for all who share my love of the supernatural. I wanted something a little new, so here is a crossover of Forever Knight and CatPeople Forever Knight and crew belong to J. Parriott, B. Cohen and Sony/Tristar CatPeople belongs to Universal Pictures Permission to archive at Forever Knight fan fiction sites, please just keep my name attached. That Which Survives 1/30 Deborah LePage Copyright 1998 For the purposes of this story, these events take place directly after Blind Faith (3rd season) That Which Survives Prologue Nov. 23 Kay tapped her pen thoughtfully against the bound journal resting on her knees. So far, in the three months that she and her group had been at it, they'd tagged forty-eight new jaguars with radio transmitters. It disgusted her that for the continued preservation of these great cats it was necessary to tag them, to insure that illegal poaching was stopped before there were no more jaguars to poach. But if it was necessary, then she would put a radio frequency on every last one. With the rain forest being destroyed daily and humans pushing further and further into the Amazon, the territory of the jaguars was disappearing rapidly. One day, it could be gone completely. "Kay." She looked up at her partner and grinned. Justin Arego looked like a half-drowned ferret. With his thinning hair and sharp features, his narrow face had a distinctive rodent quality which, while not attractive, was endearing. He never complained about the heat and humidity, but he and his Nordic origins suffered from it far worse than she and her darker Latino skin. She could see him mentally tallying up the hours of laundry he would be condemned to just to clean the sweat out of his numerous handkerchiefs. A smart man would have grabbed a couple of containers of handiwipes, but considering that most handiwipes were utilized on the rear ends of babies, she could see the psychic distaste for them that some people-especially men might have. "What's up Justin?" "I've found signs of another female." "So soon?" She was surprised. Jaguars only came together to mate and then immediately went their separate ways again. "We can't possibly be out of Xera's territory yet." Justin snickered. "Xera? You getting that desperate for names that you'd rob Planet of the Apes?" Kay wrinkled her nose. "Hey, I don't feel right calling them JX-FLN2320A or whatever serial number was on that damn tracer. They existed before the tracers were on them and by damn I won't call them some mechanical serial number as if they didn't." Justin held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right, Xera it is. And yeah, we're definitely finding signs made by another female. Judging from the depth of the print, I'd say that she's at least ten pounds lighter than Xera. I've already set up a few Trip-Cams to see if we can get a look at her before we head out seriously to bag her and tag her." Kay closed her record book thoughtfully. "Sharing territory, now there's a new side effect of the encroachment of man. We're expected back at Cockscomb Basin in a couple weeks for a check in and re-supply. Think we got time for this one and still make the boat?" "We'll give it a few days and if we can't locate her quickly, we'll just come back." "Sounds like a plan." Kay grinned and reached into her knapsack. "How about a Twix to celebrate?" Justin sat next to her, tucking his long legs in Indian style. "Just how many of those things do you have tucked away?" Kay shook her head enigmatically. "A good magician never reveals her secrets." "Yeah, or a chocolate dealer her stash." She unwrapped the confection and offered him first selection of the cookie snack. "Well, here's to…Yaguara. Or, JY-FLN2320A." Justin touched his Twix to hers in a mock toast. "Yaguara." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- She walked on a ground made of stone, her hind paws constricted, as if they were encased in thick dried mud. She was erect, reared up upon her hind feet and yet, what should have been an awkward position, fraught with difficult trials of balance and more importantly… wrong; it was somehow easy. And even stranger, it was right. Wind caressed her front paws, between the webbing of her toes as she stepped, her hind feet made slightly heavy by their covering. She looked around, squinting in the bright sunlight. From strange silver trees, where the trunks and branches grew upside down and other long branches connected the odd trunks to each other, man-children sat on silver vines, swinging back and forth like so many tree monkeys, chittering in loud voices. Another child squatted in the sand digging industriously - she approved; she didn't think man-children were smart enough to bury their waste. To her right, still more of the man-children played with a vine that they must have ripped from a tree…they swung it in their mud covered strangely formed paws while another jumped over the snake-like vine. On the wind was a heady sweet smell. Not sweet like fruit, but a thick sweetness that she could taste in the back of her throat, though nothing had passed her lips. It seemed to emanate from the thin brown substance the man-children had spread on their front toe-digits. The man children made excited high pitched sounds, again like the tree monkeys, then something clamped over her nose and mouth…She couldn't breathe…a filthy man face with smelly yellow teeth leaned in close to her, almost touching noses. He took his deformed paw from her face and she snarled but it too sounded like the monkeys. His shoulders shook and the sound that emanated from him sounded more threatening than the snarl she had attempted. And then she could no longer see. Only feel. Feel pain as she was ripped in half, with the man creature grunting above her. Pain like striking claws on her torso and flanks. Then there was only the smell of the jungle and the leaves brushing against her sides, feeling naked like toe pads all-over. Then came the heat that burned from her chest and the pain that came from inside, pushing out of her head and chest and paws until she thought she'd explode. And then she did. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Yaguara blinked her green eyes blearily and looked around. Around her was only the lush greenery of her home, shadowed from the bright sun by the trees and the foliage that grew abundantly above. She could smell the vegetation and the humidity, the faint scent of tree monkeys and even a couple of the Agouti. Beneath her she could feel the tree bark and the branch that she lay on, her toes tickled by an ant that had used her as a short cut. She listened cautiously, her ears flicking in each direction, identifying the raucous cries of the colorful birds of her home, the soft patter of drizzle striking the leaves in the canopy above and the distant chattering of the annoying primates. Her ears flattened in displeasure. All was as it should be. She had heard nothing to signify danger and smelled nothing that did not belong. Yet still her ears did not unfold from their flattened position. She eased out of the tree and down to the ground that was not made of the white or blue stone of her sleep-sights. Earth and leaves ticked between her toes. She tasted the air again, unable to easily dismiss the unease and -yes fear that the sleep-sights had brought her. She walked quietly, nearly slinking from bush to bush, hiding behind the leaves and shadows, as she would if she were stalking or if she were being stalked. Every so often, she scented the air, tasting her surroundings. It was always so after the sleep-sights. She would search the area cautiously and exhaustively for danger, hunting always for the familiar scent of the Beast that lived still in her memory. Only after the draining exploration could she relax and release the fear. Long minutes passed as she tested and searched until she began to relax, then it happened. Beneath all the recognizable smells was one that was faintly familiar. It was something she had smelled not so long ago in her sleep. The sweet heady smell of the substance that had covered the man-children's fingers. And beneath that was the pungent scent of Man. Not like the man creature of her sleep, just the Man smells that she occasionally came across in the jungle, from when the two-leggers crossed her territory. Her ears flattened again against her skull and she hissed softly in distress. It would interfere with her hunting but Man must be avoided. Man was pain and fear. Man was dangerous. She paced to a familiar tall tree and climbed high into the branches, settling in to wait. Fortunately for her, Man was also stupid. He had no sense of smell to speak of and he only rarely looked up into the canopy and the tree branches for possible danger. And he was also impatient. He would leave soon enough. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- November 25 Justin knelt next to the trip wire and studied the ground carefully "Well?" "She's come this way, but she apparently found and stepped over the wire." "Over the wire? Isn't that more of a leopard trait?" Kay grinned Justin continued. "I'd say we've got an intensely private kitty cat here. It might be a better idea to skip the photo shoot and just tag her. Not to mention that every day we take here could put us past our due date. We'd have to pay our carrying party extra." "Just tag her? God Justin, that's like no foreplay. But all right. I'll get the tranquilizers ready." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- November 26 Kay knelt beside the untouched and now spoiling food. "You know Justin, if I hadn't seen the tracks myself, I might consider this one a ghost." Justin snickered. "You're just worried that you're going to run out of candy. Relax Kay, not all of them can be easy. We'll set up some more fresh meat and see if we can lure her in." Kay grunted and pulled a Twix from her pocket. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Yaguara peered down through the leaves at the Men. They made mouth noises at each other as the hovered over the dead flesh. She didn't quite understand them. They had left the carcass there the day before, arranging it just so, but then they hadn't eaten it. Just left it in the dirt. Wasteful to kill and not eat…to let its flesh rot. Yaguara herself had been tempted. Other than catching a couple of rodents, hunting hadn't been very successful, as it was difficult to hide from the Men and hunt at the same time. Still, she preferred to catch her own food. The Man creature with the longer head- fur pulled something from her haunches and tore at it. Immediately the sweet smell filled the air. Yaguara leaned lower on the branch, her binocular vision easily picking out the details of the strange package. Perhaps since the Men were stupid it would be all right to move in a little closer for investigation… ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- November 28 Kay scrubbed the towel against her head, drying her hair as she walked toward her tent. The rain that morning had been a godsend. It had been an opportunity to take if not a heated shower, still a shower all the same. She passed the other tents in their small camp and the carrying party that hovered together, speaking softly in their native language. She didn't doubt that their conversation was a derisive discussion of Justin, her and their odd eccentricities. She shoved the tent flap aside, ready to admit that there was no longer time to hunt Yaguara. They had five days to make the boat. After resupply, Justin and she could come back. Doubtless with a new carrying party. This one had little to no interest in the conservation of this beautiful species, only in the dollar bills that she and Justin paid them with. She halted and stared in amazement, her damp towel falling from her now numb fingers. Her tent was a shambles. "Justin!" She stared in dismay at her ransacked possessions, the over tipped cot, the knocked over lantern, her slightly shredded sleeping bag. She growled softly to herself and knelt next to her things: her duffel bag was open and her clothes had been pulled out in what had obviously been a fit of feline curiosity. In addition, her books had been gnawed on, her toilet paper unrolled from their cardboard tubes and her miniature lawn chair had the unmistakable aroma of urine. Kay wrinkled her nose and forced herself to accept the fact that the feline was just protecting her territory, which Kay had invaded and after several days had not yet vacated. All things considered, the cat had been very restrained in her demonstration of just whose home this was. At least she maintained that attitude until she saw her knapsack partially hidden beneath the overturned cot. She picked up the violated pack and stared at the pile of candy wrappers that lay beneath its partially shredded form. "Justin!" she yelled again. The video documentarian pushed aside the tent flap hurriedly and halted when he saw the wreckage. He was relieved to find Kay unharmed but furiously dismayed. Spread out in all their ravaged glory was her Twix stash. Thirty plastic wrappers, all chewed until their chocolate bounty had either burst from the ruined package or oozed from the teeth holes. Justin burst out laughing. He knew that he shouldn't let the hilarity of the moment get away from him, that a jaguar aggressive enough to ravage a tent may one-day be unafraid to help herself to a human. But the sight of those destroyed chocolate packages and the expression of out right fury on Kay's face was just too much. "We would appear to have a gourmet kitty," he observed ironically. Kay glowered at him. "Of course you know this means war." Justin laughed again. She sounded like Daffy Duck entering into an altercation with Bugs. "What are you going to do? Shred her tree…" he sniffed the air experimentally, easily identifying the defiled lawn chair "…or pee on her branch?" Kay snarled soundlessly. "She likes chocolate, well that's just fine. I'll give her some." "Like?" "Chocolate milk. Drugged. I'll get a tracer on that little devil if I have to tie it to her tail." Justin nodded supportively; humoring the frenzy of a chocoholic denied a major portion of her stash. "Get the Hershey's." Justin nodded and exited the tent, his shoulders shaking with mirth. They were actually going to try bagging a jaguar, not with a tranquilizer dart or drugged raw meat but with some powdered milk, some Hershey's chocolate, and some tranquilizer pills. This was definitely one for the Scientific Journal. Yaguara had driven Kay mad. Obviously, this was an all out war between a budding chocoholic and an established one. Who would win was anybody's guess, the opposable thumb or the claw…Personally, he'd place his money on Kay, he'd seen her go without chocolate before. It was not a pretty sight. Yaguara was in trouble. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Late That Night Yaguara was dizzy and sleepy. Her tummy was pleasantly full of the sweet brown drink and she needed to find a nice tree to lay down in so she could wash the excess off of her whiskers and nose. It had been an unexpected find, that huge pot of the sweet brown liquid that had been left unattended in the Man den while the Men had gone out to leave another carcass to rot on the jungle floor. She had truly not meant to drink the whole amount, but they had been gone so long and it had tasted so good, that each sip had evolved into "just one more" until there was no more to "just one more" with. She staggered a little woozily to her favorite tree and rocked back on her haunches. She hugged the tree with her forepaws and tilted her head back to focus on the destination of her climb. Above her, sitting on her spot was one of the colorful noisy birds, watching her curiously. She stared back. It rotated its head to the side and then upside down, still watching her. Not to be out done, Yaguara did the same. The blood pressure change added to her already drugged state was too much. She rolled back off of her haunches onto her back with her paws in the air and slipped into drugged dreams. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- "Yeah!" Kay high-fived Justin. "Steal my chocolate will you? Who's the smarter one now, you thief?" Three of the carry team watched her antics in disbelief and cradled their tranquilizer guns closer to their chests. They only wanted to get this over with before "the beast that killed with a single bound" awoke. The two conservationists approached the unconscious jaguar raising their lanterns high for a full view of their night raider. "Melanistic," Kay observed. "Appropriate for this territory." They knelt next to the cat, passing their lanterns to the other men to hold. Silence reigned as they took quick measurements of the length of her legs and torso, broken only by the feline's deep snores. They hefted her experimentally, guesstimating her weight at about one hundred pounds. Kay smiled humorously at the chocolate milk crusted around the whiskers and nose then paused and studied the head. It was smaller than the average jaguar's, the legs and tail much longer than normal. "Jahousa, raise the lantern a little higher would you?" Justin at her looked across the body of the sleeping cat as she leaned closer to the animal. Kay held her breath and hoped that this pelt wasn't so dark that she couldn't see the rosettes beneath the black. And there they were, rosette shaped spots on her sides and flanks that did not contain any of the one to four darker spots within the rosette rings. Just the one dark rosette shaped spot. "Justin," she whispered in awe. "This is an Asiatic Leopard." He stilled and stared at the animal that should not have been on this continent. He was awed and amazed that this little female could survive in a jungle that was not only not her real home but was also filled with competitors that had likely not made her entirely welcome. She was a freak in their eyes; a female that smelled wrong and couldn't breed. He had heard of leopards being able to share territory with lions and tigers but he had never really believed that they could be so adaptable. Then he winced as the realization struck him. She was on the wrong continent. She might survive, but she would never find a mate and bear young. "Kay" he whispered in horror. It was too late. They had seen her and they now had to do what was right for her: remove her from South America and return her to India where she belonged. Kay grimaced unhappily. "I know." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ------ ----- Chapter 1 1 Year Later November 28 Toronto Natalie looked up as Nick entered the lab, the ever-cheerful Tracy Vetter conspicuously absent. She arched her brows and pushed away from the microscope. "So, Nick, are you ever going to get over your habit of ditching your partners or are you just going to ignore Reese too?" The blond detective held up his hands in mock surrender, "It's not my fault this time. She's down at Missing Persons, trying to get them to open a file on Jodi." He lowered his hands as he walked closer to the center table where she sat on an elevated stool in front of the microscope. He leaned next to her and crossed his arms over his chest and added absently, "I think there's a mixture of guilt in her actions. That if they'd been closer, Jodi would have gone to her." Natalie nodded thoughtfully and picked up her mug of cocoa. "So, will Missing Persons be a problem?" "Unlikely," Nick responded, watching her cradle the ceramic mug between her elegant long fingered hands. "No signs of a break-in at her house. Some of her clothes and other personal things are gone. It looks like an orderly exit, not a kidnapping or assault. Her leaving will probably be put down as an emotional reaction to the loss of Perry." She pursed her lips and stared into the rich beverage. "It might be kinder to let Tracy know the truth," she commented, studiously not looking up at him. "A clean break is easier." She looked up, her blue gaze flashing at him in disgust as she set her mug down on the table. "For the vampires, maybe." Natalie spun on the stool seat and rose. She crossed to her desk and quickly jotted down a few notes in the open case file, then closed it and tossed it into the Out basket. "For the humans, it's probably more painful, always wondering, never knowing, with only your imagination to provide the details of the safety and happiness of your lost loved one." Nick flinched slightly; knowing that she was still a little hurt and angry with his near departure during the Vudu case when Schanke and Cohen had died. That entire situation had not been well thought out by him. He had, as usual, been allowing his guilt and loneliness free reign. The pain of their loss, combined with the fear that someday he would lose Natalie too had nearly been too much for him. After eight hundred years, he should have been used to the loss of mortals. They were so fragile, their lives like butterfly wings, gossamer, delicate, easily damaged and their lives all too brief. He wanted to apologize to her for that weakness; the debilitating fear of loss, but she was so resilient, so strong, he didn't think that she'd understand. How could she understand that after the death of so many friends, it was easier to walk away and always be able to think of them as he'd last seen them, alive and well, wherever he had least seen them? It was easier to pretend that they would never be crushed beneath life's fingers if he never witnessed it. But he didn't tell her that. "In the beginning it's best to leave your old life behind," he said. "Control is more difficult, nearly impossible for a fledgling. Better to leave than go through the devastation of losing control and finding that you've killed a friend, a lover or family member." He paused and cleared his throat, "Anyway, I have no way to let her know. I'm not supposed to know about vampires and Vachon doesn't know Jodi." Natalie sighed, realizing that there was nothing he could do without jeopardizing his own secret. "Well, there is that." She walked back over and leaned next to him, resting companionably into his shoulder. "So, now what will happen to them?" Nick shrugged. "They are Carouche. As far as I know it's completely unprecedented for an animal Carouche to bring across a human. He is master by virtue of the Blood Bond and Jodi is master because she is human and he is an animal. No one is responsible for their training. And most vampires won't bother with Carouche; they are considered an inferior subspecies. They'll have to survive on instinct and learn as they go." "Why didn't you teach them?" He smiled wryly, "My track record in that department isn't exactly successful. And I offered. This was their choice." Natalie shook her head, marveling at the twist in the vampire community that had been revealed. Prejudice and bigotry seemed to grasp at every walk of life, even the dead ones. "Have you ever dealt with another situation like Perry's? An animal brought across?" Nick grinned, recognizing the cajoling tone that signaled that he was about to be grilled about his past. "Yes," he drawled uninformatively. She slanted a look at him from the corner of her eye, knowing that he was purposefully teasing her about her curiosity. "How many times?" "One and a half," he answered with a sad smile. "Half? How half?" she demanded in amused astonishment. "I saw it but didn't deal with it." He stared pensively in front of him then shook himself free from the memories that had been about to engulf him. "It's depressing," he dismissed, heaving away from the table and her warmth that had been lulling him into drowsy laziness. Natalie caught hold of his arm and tugged him back next to her. He allowed it. "Tell me anyway," she entreated softly. "Share with me, Nick. I'm here for you if you'll let me be." He stared down into her eyes, momentarily lost in the soft glow of tenderness and compassion in her blue gaze. He wanted to share so much with her, this fragile mortal who had all unknowingly woven her silken bonds around his ancient heart and bound him to her. He hesitated out of fear and shame at the cruelty and bestiality of his past. She would despise him if she really knew all the things that he had been and done. But these two stories, though depressing, were not shameful to him; what harm to share? "About a hundred years ago, I had a dog." "You?" she exclaimed in disbelief. He smiled and leaned back against her, sharing the warmth of her life. "Yeah, me." Her hand slid from his arm to her side, brushing against his; touching but not. "His name was Raleigh." "Rolly?" her tone was derisive. "Raleigh. As in Sir Walter." He related the tale quietly, of his contentment with his new chosen life, his commitment to not to kill and the companionship of the dog, which made his exile from both vampire society and human society more tolerable. Then he related how LaCroix came, as he always did and destroyed that contentment by having a Carouch bring his pet across. "In order to stop his murderous feeding frenzy, I had no choice but to destroy him." She slid her hand into his and squeezed gently. She didn't say anything; there was nothing she could say. But the sharing was enough. "What about the 'half'?" she asked softly. "LaCroix again," Nick replied contemptuously. "Only that time he was just curious. And his curiosity could have endangered us all. That beast would have revealed the entire Community." >>>-------- > -- India 1768 -- "Shere Khan! Shere Khan!" Nick pressed back into the shadows of the building and watched as the screaming peasants ran from the eastern side of the village. Women wept and alternately carried and dragged their children behind them toward the communal square where everyone was gathered. The night air was filled with screams and the stench of fear. The men carried their rifles, spears and farming implements toward the danger that lurked in the east end. Nick glared resentfully at LaCroix. "Why are we here?" He demanded in French, not wanting the locals to overhear and perhaps understand their conversation. "There is a man-eater here. These people have enough troubles without us." LaCroix raised an aristocratic brow in amusement. "Au contraire Nicolas. It is precisely at times such as these that we can go unnoticed. Silent and clean kills compared to the wreckage of Shere Khan." The elder vampire raised and elegant long fingered hand for silence, before his son could castigate him further. "But that is not why we are here. Or rather, not why I am here." "Then why?" Nick insisted, disregarding the hint that LaCroix would have let him go his own way without interference. He didn't believe that for a minute. His Sire had coerced his company after hounding him for twenty years, why let him leave now? And if his company was an inconvenient complication to his master's night's work - well, good. "Family, Nicolas. I am here for family." "The so called Shere Khan," Nick concluded in contempt. "An interesting way to hide your kills, to shred them like the brutal maulings of a jungle cat. Just leave behind a little additional hint, some fur, a claw and concealment is assured. It certainly allows him free rein with his fun without compromising our existence." LaCroix looked at the righteous rage on his son's countenance, hooding his own thoughts with partially closed eyes. "Are you so certain that the actions here are calculated?" "So, it is jungle cat?" "I didn't say that." "You didn't deny it either. Did you make him when you and Janette passed through here a few decades ago?" LaCroix chuckled in delight. "My dear Nicolas, non-information is just that; non-information. Draw your own conclusions. You always do." Nick clenched his teeth and didn't respond to the taunt. "Then what motive? Why would a man-killer only go after women in their own homes? Why not men when they're hunting? Or children when they're playing?" "Surely you won't deny that women are the sweeter selection? And you mustn't bother with children if you want the herd to flourish into the next generation. One must consider the future." "An animal wouldn't consider such niceties." LaCroix paused in his progress through the village then turned off the main road and headed out toward the jungle. "I dare say that animals are far more careful in their prey selection than are most humans." An ironic smile tugged at his sensual lips. "- Or vampires. Now hush." The younger immortal ground his teeth together in resentful frustration and followed his master into the trees and the protective cover of the jungle. "Why are we out here?" He whispered, quietly following the older man. "This is where he will come." "Why? If the mortals believe that they are hunting a tiger or a leopard, this is where they will search." "Be silent Nicolas." Nick drew in a deep breath as he felt the tingle of the blood bond that signaled that family was near. Through the bond, he could feel that his sibling, whomever he was, was near wild with rage and grief, wanting only to be left alone. The pain and loneliness was unbearable and Nick nearly buckled beneath the weight of the outcast's emotions. "Did you use Janette as bait for this one too?" He snarled wanting to feel no sympathy for the brutal killer. "Be silent Nicolas." There was no sound, no reason to believe that the danger was so near, yet Nick suddenly turned, his instincts clamoring a warning. He bared his fangs and hissed, ready to defend himself. The black leopard before him couched low to the ground and bared its fangs in return warning. Its eyes glittered like dark jewels and Nick could see its muzzle covered with drying blood. "I am not such easy prey," Nick growled, pulling a knife from his belt. He would kill the cat and prevent it from killing again. "Nicolas," LaCroix uttered warningly. "This will only take a moment, then we can go find your progeny who is evidently not Shere Khan." There was a blur of movement and Nick gasped in disbelief and pain. He looked down at his chest and belly, astounded at the large jagged lacerations that had been inflicted by lethal claws. The wounds, though painful, were already closing. It was the shock at the speed of the attack that left him gaping at the cat. LaCroix stepped between the two combatants. "No, " he ordered firmly. "I'm not going to just-" Nick broke off as he saw the leopard focus on his sire and then himself, its glowing cat eyes altering to glittering gold, then for a brief moment bloody crimson. It growled slowly, the threatening rumble a low gurgling sound in the beast's throat. "Are you insane?!" Nick demanded, his eyes wide upon the supernatural predator. "Perhaps I was curious," LaCroix returned, unconcerned with his son's outrage and fear. "More likely you were mad," Nick snarled contemptuously. He sheathed the knife at his belt and yanked a thick tree branch from a nearby tree. LaCroix turned his back on the leopard and faced Nick squarely. "Raise that stake to my son Nicolas, and I shall never give you a moments peace through all eternity. Whatever life you build, I shall tear down, whatever friends you make, I shall exterminate and whatever progeny you create, I shall destroy and leave to the searing caress of the sun. If you think that I have tormented you before, you will find that you have not even begun to suffer. I will make your eternal existence a wretched hell from which you will never escape." Nick thrust out his chin stubbornly. "I have nothing left that you can take from me." "And will you never?" LaCroix countered. "Will you never love again? Never again have anything or anyone that you will value? Can you truly make such a sweeping statement regarding the future? Go Nicolas, this is not your concern." Nick glowered at the vampiric leopard then snarled at his sire, "Don't let your curiosity endanger the Community. Deal with this. Otherwise the Enforcers will deal with you and your abomination." The tall vampire stiffened, his pale blue gaze filled with icy rage. "And you would be only too eager to assist, is that right Nicolas? Go. I will deal with this as I see fit." Nick stared hard at his sire then glanced again at his bestial brother whose eyes were now glowing gold. He dropped the improvised stake to the ground. "And you always told me that animals were for lunch and then, only in the direst occasions. Keep this one as your companion and leave me be," he growled and flew off into the night sky. >>>---- > "Did he kill it?" Natalie asked in horrified wonder. The strength of a leopard was much greater than a mortal man; did a vampiric leopard surpass its humanoid brethren similarly? She shuddered to think of that much power housed in a beast that knew no reason and only instinct. "I assume so. I hope so. I never felt it again and when LaCroix rejoined me some months later, he never spoke of it. I should have killed it myself to be sure but-" Natalie touched her fingers to his lips, cutting off yet another round of self-blame. "If LaCroix was determined to defend it, you could never have defeated the both of them. You would have died needlessly. You're not responsible for anyone else's actions, especially not LaCroix's. Only your own." He caught hold of her hand and cradled it tenderly as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "You missed your calling. You could have been a shrink." She grinned in mock threat, allowing him to change the tone of the somber mood. "It's still not too late to charge you…" "Oh yes it is," he retorted, releasing her and making his escape out the door. He poked his head back in. "I've got to go get Tracy, before Missing Persons decides to kill her." She watched him leave, then looked down at her hand with a soft secret smile. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- LaCroix surveyed his domain in silent satisfaction. When he had accepted the Raven from Janette, he had not expected the satisfaction that having the place had instilled within him. He was a part of the Vampire Community, yet still separate from it. And since the Raven was the favorite scene of vampiric nightlife - or unlife, as it were, he was always amongst the first to know who had arrived in town and who had left. And most satisfying of all, Nicolas was unable to stay completely away from it and hence him. Nick's distressing attraction to mortals and the mortal world was a bitter pill to swallow, but in time - and if his mortal friends kept dropping like the figurative flies that they were, Nicolas would return to the Community and his Master that much sooner. In the meantime, the Raven remained neutral territory despite the fact that LaCroix now owned it. Doubtless a remnant of Janette's tenure as mistress here. Smiling enigmatically to himself, LaCroix raised his goblet of blood to his lips and sipped. The music throbbed and the dancers surged against each other. Luscious mortals and their temptingly warm bodies…mortal hearts pounding in near rhythm to the music, tempting their partners, never knowing the fire that they played with may yet burn them Then he sensed it. The faint trickle of a presence, brushing along his consciousness that signaled the approach of one of his children. It wasn't Nicolas, nor his Janette… Then he saw him; a tall, lean man who walked through the dancers as if they were insects who would part before him or be swatted aside. The human women shied away, instinctively sensing a predator in their midst far more threatening than the ones they had already become inured against. The vampire women on the other hand were drawn toward him, to the passion that smoldered just beneath his surface and promised more than just a taste of his fire. They disregarded his aura of danger, hungering to burn in the sensuality he radiated. They were not afraid; they were wolves now, not sheep, and to draw back, to admit fear, was to lose respect He padded through the dancers with silent, negligent grace, uncaring as he brushed against their shoulders and backs, his trench coat caressing calves and thighs as he pushed by their writhing bodies. His nostrils flared at the myriad scents that clung to their supple curves; perfumed soaps, scented oils, the distasteful taint of tobacco smoke, the aromatic blood-wine that lingered on their lips and breath. Tempted, he tracked their pale, alabaster throats, growling softly in hungry desire before he caught himself. In a stiff movement, so at odds with his characteristic relaxed sensuality, he ran a smoothing hand over the soft material of his black turtleneck. Controlled again, he moved forward through the throng, toward the bar that waited at the other side. He expressed no trace of his inner hunger, only gripped the handle of the attaché case he carried more tightly. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Urs looked sadly across the dance floor at the mortal women who tempted their immortal partners. They sensed the danger but had no true understanding of who they were toying with. And why should they? It was 1996, the age of technology; vampires didn't exist. She sipped her glass of blood-wine and paused as the sleek, dark-haired god that moved gracefully through the surging throng caught her attention. She caught her breath at his sculpted beauty, at the black hair that was drawn into a neat ponytail hanging halfway down his back. This was no eternally young bad boy playing in the night; this was a man with complex hungers and an adult agenda. For the first time in a long time: she wanted. She wanted to be wanted. She wanted him to look upon her. She slid from her seat at the bar and moved toward him silently. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- LaCroix noted the smooth, olive complexion of the new arrival and was pleased. Vampires of eastern descent had to feed a touch more heavily, so as not to appear sickly or even "dead" to the mortals around them. The skin tone of this one gave the illusion that the man had only that day been out in the sun's golden rays. He was truly a well-camouflaged predator roaming unnoticed amongst his prey: no man that appeared so touched by the sun could possibly be perceived as a vampire. LaCroix raised an eyebrow in amused surprise as Urs; the ethereal golden haired dancer interrupted the new one's progress. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- "Dance with me," she entreated softly, laying her hand on his chest. He took in the oval perfection of her features then lifted a hand to stroke a flaxen curl from her brow. "No," he said simply and moved to step around her. "Please." She stroked her fingertips lightly over his jaw and cheek. He caught her hand gently and held her knuckles to his lips, inhaling her scent. His eyes glittered briefly with supernatural gold as he shuddered and kissed the soft cool flesh. "You are almost more tempting than I can bear," he muttered in a throaty whisper, capturing the back of her head in one hand and pulling her toward him. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the fragrance that wafted from her lightly perfumed flesh and rubbed his rough cheek to her smooth one. "And so completely unaware of the danger you court." "I am the same as you," she murmured, intoxicated by the sensuality of the caress. He laughed softly, ironically and gently put her from him. "There are no others like me. Go back to the sheep, little wolf." Urs was still as he brushed by her without another glance. Proudly, she pushed through the writhing dancers toward the doors and the solace of the night. She hungered and she didn't know why. At first sight of his determined countenance she had felt a hunger for someone strong…to shelter her…approve of her…love her. Touching him and smelling him had given the hunger a visceral ache. He wanted. And he needed. She could sense it. And she wanted to be the one to give. But he had brushed her to the side as if she were no more than a minor irritant. She paused, momentarily distracted. Almost more tempting than I can bear. Perhaps she just wasn't trying hard enough. A hard, cold hand grabbed her arm and she gasped at the pain. The chill, colder than vampire norm, permeated her flesh to her bones. Vampires were unaffected by the cold, indeed, they were indifferent to most weather conditions, but this cold was more than just physical. It was an all-encompassing menace and Urs was filled with an unaccountable terror of the owner of that pale, marble-hard hand. Like a deer transfixed by the glaring headlights of an on-coming truck, she looked into the dark topaz eyes. The gaze that looked down upon her from a delicate Asian face was cool and found her wanting. A drunken mortal dancer collided into them as he vacated the dance floor, the impact jostling Urs but not the stone stillness of her captor. "Do not interfere with justice, Child. Or there will be consequences." Urs restrained the urge to hiss at the woman, her terror growing proportionately as eternity passed by. She was frightened of the stranger and her arm hurt, but she sensed that to struggle would be a mistake. Possibly even suicidal. The Enforcer watched her for several moments then smiled gently, revealing very white, very sharp incisors. "Go home." The haughty female vampire released her wrist, melting back into the crowd as if she had never been there. Urs trembled, more frightened by the Enforcer's gentleness and ghostly disappearance than the enigmatic facade and not-so-subtle threat. She stared across the room at the beautiful man, understanding the quiet menace that radiated from him; he was one too. The Enforcers were in town and someone was in trouble. And considering that the female's counter-part was approaching LaCroix, it must be somebody in his bloodline Released from the paralysis of her fear, she made her way swiftly to the main door. Normally, she enjoyed the hospitality of the Raven and slept in the basement but if trouble with a capital T was going to be here, then she was going to be elsewhere. Vachon could damn well share the church until the big guys were done wiping the floor with each other. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- She watched from the shadows of the club, the glittering gold of her eyes hidden behind the topaz contact lenses that she wore to camouflage her nature. The Beast that resided within her was quiescent for the moment, but it took so little to stir up its lust. And though she could refrain from indulging its appetites, keeping it hidden was much more difficult. Colored contacts had been a wonderful invention. She shifted and leaned against the dark pillar, an unnoticed shadow amidst the unrestrained revelry that surrounded her. She had watched the golden haired woman accost Rajah and waited tensely until he set the lush beauty aside. Most of the time the control he had over his appetites amazed her, but sometimes condemned men got desperate enough to forget the consequences of their actions…or just lost so much hope that they didn't care about the consequences anymore. Her concern had been unnecessary. Once he learned a lesson, it was well learned. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the little dancer. It had taken a firm warning to prevent the rebuffed beauty from setting her sights on Rajah and really besieging his self-restraint. No point in letting the poor bastard be tortured. He'd already had plenty of that. The carelessness and lack of training after his transformation enraged her, but she would deal with that later. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- The man approached the bar and placed his case on an empty seat. "My Father," he murmured, greeting the ancient. "I'm pleased to see you living so," he glanced around the room then smiled mischievously, "licentiously." LaCroix chuckled. "Yes. And you look like you don't." The man shrugged. "It has been a long time Bhadraksh," LaCroix continued. "Call me Rajah," the man corrected, waving the previous address aside. "The old names are too conspicuous." LaCroix stared hard at the youngest of his surviving children, pleased with what he saw. Of all of his progeny, he had expected Rajah to have the worst transition to vampire life, but aside from a brief phase of uncontrolled rage, he had obviously made one of the best. He showed no signs of Nicolas' distressing conscience nor did he show any hint of the dissipation that some of his children had brought upon themselves with self-indulgence. "You look well." He poured his son a goblet of blood then leaned back to listen to the news. "I was a little worried. I have not had a letter from you in some years. Not since you mentioned your genealogical search had uprooted some forgotten branches on your family tree. How did New Orleans go?" Rajah shook his head sadly. "Badly. Paul is dead and Irena…Irena has chosen a zoo and a zoo curator." LaCroix raised a brow. "Doesn't she care what will happen to her curator if their relationship progresses-" "Irena has chosen a zoo," Rajah repeated, emphasizing the last word. LaCroix fell silent, realizing what Rajah meant. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "She most definitely was not for you." The younger vampire smiled ruefully, "No. I must admit that despite my need, I am relieved that that one got away. Such self-sacrifice puts me in mind of a saint, and I am afraid that I could not tolerate living with a saint. Especially after seeing the headache that yours has put you through." LaCroix sternly repressed a smile at that quip. "Need? Your search sounds very urgent." Rajah was silent as he raised his glass to his lips and allowed the elixir of life to pour down his parched throat and briefly tantalize his senses. "There have been developments, my father," he whispered in a shamed tone. "Disastrous ones." LaCroix looked around at the heedless mortals and young vampires that surrounded them, moving in time with the loud rhythmic music. The carefree, self-indulgent atmosphere that prevailed about them did not seem appropriate for the discussion that was developing. "Come," he ordered shortly and led the way from the bar through the throng to his private back rooms. Rajah grabbed his case and obediently followed, grimly preparing himself for the ugly scene he knew was about to unfold. LaCroix closed the sound proofed door of the office and turned to face his progeny, his arms folded across his chest. Rajah's demeanor was a familiar one: it was that of a delinquent Childe. He had experience enough with Nicolas to know that attitude very well. But the expression in Rajah's eyes was another matter entirely; it was sincere contrition. Something LaCroix had never seen in any of his Progeny without some patriarchal rage to nudge it into existence. LaCroix knew he would forgive Bhadraksh-Rajah much if he showed genuine remorse, a willingness to set whatever it was to rights, to make some sort of reparation. How could he not when he gave Nicolas who gave so much less, an unending amount of forgiveness? "Tell me." "I've killed." "You are a vampire and a natural predator," LaCroix dismissed, watching the young one carefully. "Killing is no wrong doing for us…so long as you are careful." Rajah sighed and looked up into his Sire's gaze. "It wasn't a mortal. It was a vampire." "Killing one of our own without just cause or in self-defense is an offense that can call down the wrath of the Enforcers. You could even be put to death, left to the mercies of the morning's sun - unless it was an unknown fledgling?" "No such luck," Rajah averred sardonically. "She was a club owner. A place that was also a sanctuary for those of us who needed shelter." His pale green eyes turned opaque as the memories clamored for attention. "She was a wonderful singer," he added irrelevantly. LaCroix clenched his teeth and waited calmly for the rest of the story. If what he suspected had indeed happened, his whole Blood Line, he, Janette, Nicolas and others he had not spoken to in decades, could be in danger. "Go on." Lily Ellsworth. A nine hundred-year-old pagan priestess, turned minstrel, turned entrepreneur turned torch song singer. They had met at her nightclub; a rhythm and blues place called The Night Outside. "It was a play on the atmosphere. The ceiling, the walls had all been painted to look as if one were actually outside in a bayou. She even had little lights set up near bushes and inside fountains to look like fireflies. It brought the whole beauty of the night inside. Even the dance floor…the floor had been painted as a reflection of the ceiling mural, then she had dropped in blue tiles just transparent enough to see the mural underneath. It was magical. She was working on another-" "Rajah," LaCroix intoned sternly. "Yes. I know." Rajah had gone to The Night Outside and been entranced by the illusion of pristine night, caught in the interior of a building in the heart of a thriving metropolis. He had swiftly become a regular, enjoying the music and the atmosphere. Unfortunately, Lily herself had caught his eye. "She was beautiful. Long hair like coppers set on fire, baby smooth skin and eyes like a soft summer sky. She was intelligent, she was lovely and she was talented. And she was wild…she even smelled wild; like lotus flowers and sweet grass, rich dark earth and dew scented night air. She was graceful, silent, controlled, even slightly menacing. It was all completely subconscious. And the sensuality she exuded…She loved everything. Textures, scents, sounds, she even fed from people just because she was curious as to how some modern thing tasted. Even her voice was like a deep purr, a husky contralto that she used to entrance her guests nightly. I thought she was like me." LaCroix arched his brows in patent disbelief. Rajah smiled self deprecatingly. "All right, that's not entirely true. But she seemed enough like me that it gave me room to lie to myself…to pretend." After centuries of self-deprivation and control, desire had at last been given free reign. Cool flesh slid against cool flesh, and the eroticism of vampiric lovemaking had been intoxicating. But as the passion had cooled and the afterglow had faded, a new fever had built within him and it had happened. "I had hoped…I was so enraged that I had been wrong. That she wasn't like me. All the parts of her that were entrancing and made me love her…and she was unobtainable. Another forbidden fruit that I mustn't touch and mustn't want. And she saw it happen. She was horrified, perhaps even disgusted. And that enraged me all the more. I couldn't let her tell anyone. I am an abomination to the vampire community, if they knew about me, your whole Blood Line, from the beginning to the end and at every branch would be shamed by the connection. I couldn't let her do that. So I decided to kill her. "I half hoped that because she was near seven hundred years older than me that she would defeat me. Kill me and release me from my loneliness. But her death, not mine, was the one that would protect my lineage. She had tasted of my blood and seen you in my memories. She already knew." LaCroix was still, shocked at the magnitude of it. "You defeated a vampire seven hundred years your elder?" "I was wounded…But the table leg she used to stake me…I rammed her and she slipped…she ended up piercing her own heart and missing mine entirely. Later, when I had changed back, I decided not to leave any evidence. I set the club afire." The ancient caught his breath. "It was a haven for other-" "There were sewer tunnels that connected in the basement. No one was caught. I made sure of that at least. It was a year later. I thought I'd gotten completely away with it when she showed up." "She?" LaCroix repeated. "She calls herself Jing-Wei. She's an Enforcer. She was strong and her teeth were so sharp and hard…She defeated me easily. I assume she's much older than Lily was. But she fed from me and she knows." LaCroix closed his eyes, his mind racing. "Father, I made a deal with her." LaCroix opened his eyes and glared at his son, enraged nearly past control. His blue gaze turned to green-gold and then to scarlet. "And what did you offer her in exchange for your life?" he snarled. "Nothing. I stated my case to her, honestly. Told her that I must have one of my own or this happens. Told her everything of Lily's death, which she gleaned from my blood anyway. She gave me fifty years." "Fifty years for what?" LaCroix stalked closer to his progeny. "Fifty years to locate another like myself and be pardoned or fail and be put death. My time is nearly done. Two weeks are all that remain. If I find a female, I may be granted an extension. If not…" "So, what has brought you to Toronto?" LaCroix backed away, the crimson of his ire fading to gold. "Familial affection, or business?" "A little of both." Rajah opened his attaché case and pulled out a folder, which he handed to his sire. It was filled with newspaper articles in French, English and Spanish. They all had one common theme: an Asiatic Leopard that had been living in Jaguar territory in South America. LaCroix flipped through the articles, skimming lightly over the details of the female nick named "Yaguara" who had been captured because of her lust for chocolate. The scientists who had captured her had intended to return the leopard to her native habitat in India. Unfortunately, the government decided that a leopard wasn't on their list of priorities like the native jaguar. They sold Yaguara to a zoo…at a competitive bid no less. The final article was from the Toronto Sun, detailing the arrival of the new attraction, "Yaguara, the Jaguaran Leopard". LaCroix looked up at his son. "This is a long shot. At least in New Orleans you had the mutilations to substantiate your belief. You were even able to track a family line that fit the profile. This is likely a waste of time." Rajah laughed softly. "Father, I have but fourteen days to waste. And if I am wrong…Jing-Wei is near. I am certain of it." "You want me to protect you?" "No. I want you to kill me. If you do it, it won't be a dirty secret that was hidden away and can be used against you. It will simply be you cleaning up your own mess. There would be no repercussions from the Enforcers. Everything, including me would be forgotten." LaCroix stared at his beautiful Childe, saddened by the isolation and loneliness he could sense through their bond, proud that Rajah would do whatever it took to protect the family, even though he had never been really a part of it. "It was completely unnecessary that you be alone all this time Rajah. You could have traveled with us." "In the company of the beauteous Janette and her Nicolas? To witness nightly their hungers and their freedom to explore those hungers?" Rajah shook his head ruefully. "It would only have caused me greater frustration and I would have fallen from grace that much sooner. And judging from my recollection of my last encounter with Nicolas, he would not have been very understanding of any lapses in my self-control." LaCroix sighed, his eyes fading at last to pale blue as he leaned back against his desk. "I had no idea that it would be so difficult for you to find a companion. That the rules that bound you were so stringent. Did I do you a disservice, bringing you across?" "Life is never a disservice." "You can say that, even now, with your end likely so near?" "Yes." LaCroix smiled. So much more reason for despair in this one's life and yet there was no bitterness in him. Only a resolve to better his future. "How will you know for sure if she is one of yours?" "I won't, unless she kills. And considering the caution most zoo facilities use in housing their wild guests, I may have to assist in giving her the opportunity." ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- She waited quietly as he talked with his sire. She was impressed in spite of herself that he chose to lay everything honestly before his master. LaCroix was a harsher taskmaster than most; she would be surprised if Rajah survived the night, much less the two weeks that remained of his time. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Across Town Jack Tonson turned the truck into the warehouse and pulled up near the manager's office. He was less than pleased with the progress of his evening. Yaguara was not supposed to have been delivered to the Toronto airport from quarantine until tomorrow, but of course the paper work mix up had happened and Lynda was too sick with the flu to come in and get the cat. Not that Jack wasn't thrilled to have Yaguara, but still, it was his visitation night with his six year old daughter Katie, and an evening of loading and unloading a leopard was probably not high on a little girl's list of fun things to do. He turned off the engine and turned to his daughter, grimly preparing for the long process of making her miserable through no fault of his own. Katie was sound asleep, with her thumb firmly in her mouth and Ben, an extremely ragged stuffed, bear tucked into the crook of her elbow. Jack glanced at his watch. Getting the paperwork done shouldn't take that long. He eased out of the truck and shut the door, locking it behind him. He glanced again at the truck, then nodded to himself satisfied that she'd be safe. He headed up the aluminum stairs situated to the right of the building's freight doors, which led to the warehouse manager's office. He entered, immediately spotting a portly man sitting behind a desk with the nameplate "Marcus Candle" displayed on it. He was asleep, with his head tilted back, snoring resonatingly. Jack let the door slam shut. Marcus jumped, awakening with an undignified squeak of dismay, looking about himself wildly. Jack smiled in grim satisfaction, glad to have frightened Mr. Candle, who had so kindly informed him earlier that if the zoo did not pick up Yaguara that evening, she would be condemned to another three months of quarantine because of her proximity to some pre-quarantine animals. Naturally, the zoo couldn't afford to foot the bill, and here he was. If he was going to be miserable for the evening, then by damn, so was Mr. Candle. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ------ ----- Katie opened her eyes and looked around. Her daddy was not in the truck. Curious as to where he was and curious to see the leopard he had been talking about, she unlocked her door and slipped out of the truck, lugging faithful Ben behind her. She glanced around and saw an arrow pointing toward another door. "Pick-ups". She'd seen that sign plenty of times whenever Mommy picked up things that she ordered from the catalog. It was where you went to wait to get your stuff. Daddy must be waiting that way. She headed toward the door, staying between the yellowed lines which were painted on the cement to show you where it was safe to walk. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ------ ----- ------ ----- ----- He watched her as she left the safety of the truck and headed toward the main warehouse. She was beautiful, with silky, shiny gold hair and smooth, baby-soft skin. He glanced warily toward the manager's office where he could hear the two men's voices raised in shared displeasure. He smiled. Marcus Candle was a petty dictator in his own little kingdom. Anybody who displeased him was going to have to fill out every form in the office, in triplicate. The old bastard would probably make him read every line, or even worse, read it to the guy word for word - every last 'part of the parts of the first part' and so on and the initial it all. He looked after the lonely, helpless little angel. He had plenty of time. He followed her. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- "Can't believe we pulled baby-sitting duty on this little bitch," Eric Crane groused to his friend. He inhaled hard on his joint, exhaling toward the cage and the leopard that was hunched over within it. Warren nodded. "Yeah, this really sucks. But hey, we don't have to cancel the party, we can bring the party with us." Warren inhaled on his blunt. He too blew it into the cage, aiding his aim with a miniature electric fan. The cat hissed at them both and the two security guards giggled at her helplessness. Eric bounced a rubber band ball a couple of times, then caught it. His slightly glazed eyes focused intently on the cat. He disentangled two thick rubber bands from his bouncing arsenal and took aim at the cat's face. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- The rubber missiles bounced off her nose to join the growing pile on the floor around he. She again hissed in distress. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- The two stoned guards giggled madly. Warren leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table that they had set up near the cage. He leaned forward and turned a boom box on, immediately filling the room with the acidic heavy metal that he and his friend both loved. Yaguara growled in distress, her ears flattening tighter to her sleek skull. They laughed shrilly. "Hey, I don't think she's been getting enough smoke," Eric exclaimed in mock concern. "Do you?" Snickering, Warren shook his head. Eric took a huge hit off the remainder of his joint and, staggering a little, leaned in close to the cage to blow the smoke directly into the unhappy feline's face. She roared and rushed forward, raking her claws toward his face, through the bars. Squalling in surprise and fear, Eric lurched backward and bumped into the table, spilling both cups of untouched coffee all over Warren's lap. "Ah shit!" yelled Warren. "She almost got me!" Eric screamed in offense. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- She growled in satisfaction, scenting his fear. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- "Got you? Ah, shit! Ah shit!"" Warren stood and danced around, trying to escape the scalding liquid that covered him. In a moment, the immediate heat passed and the stoner stared down at himself. "Shit, man, I look like I pissed myself." Warren emptied his pockets onto the table, making sure that the rest of their weed hadn't been harmed by the incident. Gum wrappers, a plastic baggie filled with marijuana, two sets of keys, a lighter and his wallet hit the desk. "I can't sit in here all night like this. It's fucking cold!" "Relax. There's some mechanic's coveralls in the locker room. Hey man, did she get me?" Eric knelt and attempted to examine himself in the reflection off the coffee puddle. Warren bemusedly looked at his partner. "Can't you tell?" "Nah, I'm toasted. I can't feel nothing but the buzz." Warren snorted in disgust and headed toward the door. "Hey man, where're you going?" Eric looked up from his squatting position, swaying slightly. "Where the hell you think, dipshit? The locker-room." He paused at the door where he saw the still mostly full coffeepot. "Oh yeah," he growled, sobering. He grabbed the pot and dashed the remaining liquid into the cage. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Yaguara roared as the scalding liquid drenched her toes and naked paw pads. She snarled helplessly. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- "That's right, bitch, who's the boss?" He threw the coffeepot against the bars for good measure, laughing shrilly as the glass shattered and flew inward. Eric stared in awe then started laughing again. "You're pretty macho for a guy that's just pissed himself." "Blow me." The pair left, without a second glance to the cat who was left roaring in displeasure, fear and pain. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- Katie cocked her head to the side. She could hear her daddy's leopard roaring. She followed the faint sound to a door and, bracing herself against the doorjamb, hauled the door open. She gasped in awe at the beautiful creature that was huddled in the cage. She and went closer and sat a little distance away, promptly sticking her thumb in her mouth. Her daddy wasn't here yet, but he soon would be, and the leopard was so pretty. The leopard was long and sleek, with black fur and green eyes that looked like her crayola Jungle Green crayon. Katie sighed. She really wanted to touch her, to see if that pretty black fur felt like her cat TiKi's fur. Maybe daddy would let her. When she heard the door open and shut behind her she turned to greet her father enthusiastically. But it wasn't her father. It was a slightly pudgy stranger with a balding head, dressed sort of like a police officer. His shirt was light blue, but his pants were black and his shoes were shiny. "Well, well, look at the pretty angel, sitting all by herself with the panther," the man crooned in a singsong voice. "Melanistic leopard," she corrected around her thumb. "Oooh, ain't you the smart one? Melanistic. That mean black?" He asked, walking closer to the little girl, tone still friendly. She nodded. "Course, you ain't really that smart, are you? Wondering off by yourself?" the man taunted, his pitch no longer friendly as he moved closer. "In here with a wild animal, talking to a stranger. You ain't supposed to talk to strangers are you?" Katie shook her head, remembering that rule from her kindergarten class. "Disobeying your parents like that…why you're practically begging for trouble, ain't you? They tell you what to do for your own safety don't they?" he asked sharply, his lips pulling back into a smile. He stalked closer to her, feeling the anticipation riding him hard. Man, it felt good. He frowned suddenly. She hadn't answered. That wasn't allowed. "I asked you a question girl. You answer me. They tell you what to do for your own safety don't they?" Katie stood up and backed away from the man, not liking him. Weren't policemen supposed to be nice? "Well? You answer me girl," he ordered sternly. She nodded too frightened to do anything else. "Don't nod your head at me like a little puppet!" he snapped angrily. "You say it." Katie began to tremble and she took another step backward, away from the mean man. "Yes. They tell me for my own good." He nodded. "Stop backing away. Where you think you're going, I'm talking to you ain't I?" She froze in her tracks, obeying the grownup and nodded again, whispering another yes around her thumb. "And they tell you not to talk to strangers so you'll be safe, don't they?" "Yes." "Well now, little missie. Here you are, all by yourself because you wandered off, you disobeyed all the rules your parents told you and you're talking to a stranger." He smiled menacingly. "You must not want to be safe. Always glad to oblige." ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- Yaguara paced back and forth on the broken glass loathing the Man. Her toe pads pressed down on the shards and she hissed in pain. She felt hurt, sick and scared. The little Man creature screamed as the big Man creature pressed her down. She struggled weakly, throwing the thing that she held in her arm to the side. Yaguara hissed again, helpless. She couldn't get away and couldn't fight with the nasty silver branches all around her. She hoped that when the Man creature was done with the Man-cub that he wouldn't be hungry anymore. But to her surprise, the big Man Creature didn't bite down on the Man cub's skull and kill her. Nor did he bite down on her throat. He shoved her to the ground and ripped at her body. He laid on top of her and he hurt her, falling on her again and again. The Man-cub screamed and struggled, but she was no match for the Man. The Man swatted her like a rodent, cuffing her in the head until Yaguara could smell the blood in the air. She growled. She had memories from her sleep-sights that were like this. She remembered pain and fear. She roared again, watching with her ears flat as the Man cut the cub again and again with a long silver claw. After a time, the cub stopped screaming. And it stopped moving. It made soft sounds, like animals in pain…like animals that were dying. Yaguara hunched in the corner of her cage as the Man pulled at the black leg covering that wrapped around his toe-pad pink legs. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Cody Daniels adjusted himself and sighed. Man, that had been good. He liked it when they struggled and screamed like that. He paced around the little girl who lay unmoving with her little legs splayed and sneered at the little Disney Lion King dress that had been no barrier to his assault. If anything, the shortness of little girls' skirts invited this very behavior. So did their disobedience in going off by themselves or talking to strangers. If they wanted to be safe, all they had to do was what they were told. It was all her fault, really. "Bad girl," he growled and kicked her. She cried and curled into a ball, covering her head, somehow still alive after being raped and stabbed and pummeled. Cody sighed. Well, now what to do? Where should he dump her? He didn't want to go to jail. They didn't have little girls in jail. He needed to destroy the evidence. He was really good at destroying evidence. Destroying evidence was why the pigs had never caught him. "No witness, no evidence, no conviction," he muttered to himself. He paced thoughtfully back and forth, and then he saw them. The keys to the leopard cage, sitting right there on the table. Truly a sign from God. He would let the leopard go. The leopard would be attracted to the blood, kill the kid, maybe eat her a little…he had read somewhere that leopards did a lot of man killing…and then, slick as snot, no more evidence…it certainly wouldn't survive in a leopard's belly. Hell, he could even shoot the cat and be a hero. He picked up the keys from the table and a piece of pipe from the room's dismantled sink. Just in case the kitty-kitty tried to get friendly with him. He couldn't shoot her right away. He needed her to kill the kid first…and eat her too. He approached the cage cautiously. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Yaguara watched the Man approach and crouched defensively. She would not be the easy prey that a cub was. He stuck something into a silver branch and suddenly, four of the branches swung away from the others. FREEDOM She lunged forward, trying to run past the man, but something heavy hit her in the face. She screamed in fury and turned on him. The man backed away from her, past the bleeding cub on the floor. She paid her no mind. The man was bad. He had smelly yellow teeth and he had to die. She stalked him, judging him carefully. He couldn't be heavier than a boar or a deer. She snarled confidently. She could bring him down. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Cody frowned as the leopard showed no interest in the kid and kept coming after him. He turned, moving the right, heading back toward the kid. Maybe she needed another whiff of the blood. He backed steadily, still refusing to draw his gun. He needed her alive. "C'mon stupid kitty. Do your stuff." Katie moaned. Cody glanced at her. Yaguara sprang. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- The wounded cub whimpered and the Man glanced over at it. She sprang forward, knowing that she was faster than his silver branch. He screamed in terror, like prey, and she snarled. She moved forward, straddled his body, ready to bite his head and kill him quickly, but he swung the branch up and hit her in the ribs. Yaguara growled then decided to forego the nicety of a quick kill. That was for a food-kill. And she did not intend to eat him. She ripped into him with sharp claws tearing his chest open as he screamed in her face. His blood spattered over her fur, coating her paws and muzzle as she shredded his soft flesh. His yellow teeth flashed in her line of vision as he writhed and struggled against her, enraging her even further. Baring her fangs, she reared back and clubbed his skull, smashing the flesh and bone that held those offensive teeth. His robust screams faded to weakened whimpers; she growled in satisfaction. His blood filled her mouth, thick and salty; she roared in triumph and hatred. The beast that hunted it's own young was dying. And then it was over. He moved no more, he screamed no more. She bit him again, to be sure, but he didn't move. She bit him once more, bracing a paw on him as she pulled, tearing a bloody chunk of his flesh free. He didn't move. He was dead. She opened her mouth and dropped the meat of the Man creature on the ground. She had no interest in eating such filth. She padded close to the Man cub. It whimpered at the sight of her but didn't move. Yaguara nuzzled it curiously, ignoring its soft whimpers and keenings of distress. It stretched out a hand reaching toward the thing that it had dropped. Generous in her new won freedom, Yaguara paced over and picked up the strangely soft animal resembling thing and dropped it close to the cub. The man cub clutched it close to her chest and Yaguara paced calmly around the room looking for a way out…She wanted to get back to the trees and the fresh earth smells of her home. But there were no openings to the outside world that she could see. She looked toward the cub, remembering that it had the power to open a hole in the walls. She must get it to help her. She went back to it and nuzzled its head fur. She licked, trying to stimulate its blood, to keep it warm, but the fur just got tangled on her tongue and teeth. She tried to lick its colored fur and its pink skin, but it just mewled in distress, so she decided to lay next to it and share her warmth. Surely once it was warm, it would clean its wounds and want to leave this place where it had been hurt. Yaguara sighed and rested her head on the cub, content to wait for a little while. ----- ---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Jack Tonson initialed the last section and threw the pen down. "There! Now can we get this over with? I've got my daughter asleep in the truck." Marcus smiled congenially, as if he hadn't been a belligerent bastard for the last hour. "Of course. Let me show you to her. My boys can get the forklift and we'll have her loaded up in a jiffy." He escorted Jack out of the office, down the noisy staircase and through the entrance just to the right of the freight doors. Jack blinked to adjust his eyes to the dimly lit interior and frowned at Marcus. "Don't you keep this place locked?" "No need," Marcus waved the question aside negligently. "We've never had a theft in over twenty years." He led Jack down the main corridor, past several aisles lined with towering shelving systems filled with crates. "We use the front section here for freight." Jack nodded, uninterested. "Where're your people?" "Minimum staff at night. Three guards; one up front and two baby-sitting your pussycat. Animals we got set up in the back. The secondary doors and the wall insulation keeps it nice and quiet. The racket they make can really wear on your nerves." Marcus pushed through the entrance to the right of the previously mentioned doors and led Jack down another corridor. At last, he halted at a door on the right side. He twisted the knob and gestured the curator in grandly. "And there she is, all safe and sound." Jack took in the room before him. "Je-sus!" "What?" Marcus turned and then he too gaped. A security guard's torn body lay on the ground, mauled to near bloody shreds. Blood was everywhere. In the cage at the center of the room, was nothing. It was empty, with the door standing open; the leopard was no where to be seen. Of the two "baby sitting" guards, there was no sign. Jack lunged forward to the fallen man, to check his vital signs. "Call an ambulance. And the cops. Je-sus." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Chapter 2 Nick opened the car door of the caddie and surveyed the parking lot in grim silence. Numerous squad cars with lights flashing were parked all around. It was never a good sign when that many police cars were in any one spot other than the police precinct. "Geez, it's a real zoo," his partner observed. He glanced at Tracy with an eyebrow raised. Considering the circumstances, that particular analogy was probably not in the best of taste. Apparently she realized it too. The young detective flushed and murmured an embarrassed apology. Nick could see the Captain standing within a circle of men; cops, animal control personnel and perhaps…yes, zoo employees. A full-scale hunt was about to get under way and every able bodied official who could carry a gun or a tranquilizer gun had been drafted. >From his experience in hunting wild cats, they would need it. "All right people," Joe Reese held up his hands to get their attention. "We've got ourselves an escaped leopard. And judging from what I've seen inside, she'd not remarkably docile. I'm dividing you up into teams. There will be one zoo employee with every car. For now, this is their show. We want this cat alive and they have the tranquilizer guns. However, should it become a life and death issue, you do not hesitate to shoot to kill. If we can help it, there will be no more attacks." "Leopard," Tracy murmured thoughtfully. "Why do they have Homicide out here?" Nick didn't reply. He slammed the caddie door shut and headed into the warehouse. They wouldn't have been sent if something didn't bear investigating. No point in asking questions outside when the answers were inside. He entered the warehouse, following the police tape to the crime scene. Tracy jogged to catch up with his ground eating strides. He could smell the blood. It was heavy in the air but at least an hour old. Human. The beast within growled in interest and he ruthlessly shoved it back down. With only protein shakes and the odd goblet of cow's blood to sustain him, he always hungered and the smell of such bounty spilt and wasted offended him. He despised himself for his weakness. Nick paused at the open door and stared at the police agent inside. She was walking in an ever-shrinking spiral toward the body, making a rough sketch of the crime scene. She would begin gathering her samples after both he and Tracy had a chance to look the scene over. It was obviously an animal mauling, but she proceeded by a common routine, noting anything that could be evidence, omitting nothing, and making no assumptions. He stepped in and paced around the room. He touched nothing as he looked over the scene, aware that the agent was watching both him and Tracy to make sure they kept their hands to themselves. Every detective that "made the grade" was supposed to have gone through a stint as an evidence agent. He and Tracy were probably the only ones to have ever bypassed that chore. He hadn't been one because he had wanted to be a detective; so he'd paid for false computer records that supplied all of the necessary experience. Tracy on the other hand had bypassed it without even a pretense, thanks to her Commissioner father's interference. He took in the shattered glass, the rubber bands and the coffee that was puddled on the floor of the leopard's cage. A set of keys still hung from the lock on the cage door. On the table, a boombox sat along with a pile of gum wrappers, another set of keys, a lighter and what appeared to be a package of marijuana. In addition, there was another puddle of coffee beside the table "Was this on?" Nick asked, gesturing to the portable radio. The agent noted something on her sketch. "Yes, but it was driving me nuts, so I turned it off." "Would you mind?" Shrugging, she walked over and turned the piercing music on. Nick winced as the screeching wails of an electric guitar raked across his sensitive eardrums. He nodded in pained gratitude, indicating for her to turn it back off. "Thanks." He turned away in time to catch Natalie smother a smile, doubtless finding some amusement in his offended sensibilities. He walked toward her where she was busily taking a core temperature of the victim in order to determine the time of death. He knelt next to her. "Hey." She looked up and smiled, "Hey yourself. I see you've got your partner with you this time." He grinned. "Attached at the hip." "Now there's an image," she drawled teasingly. Then in a soft undertone, "You okay?" She looked meaningfully at the partially covered body and the blood on the floor. After her sweep of the room, Tracy approached to look over Nick's shoulder for a better view. She turned slightly green and stated in a squeaky voice, "Uhh…I need some coffee. You guys want some?" She turned and headed out the door, not waiting for their response. Nick and Natalie looked at each other with understanding smirks. "Well, I'm better off than Tracy. What do we got?" "Well, from my preliminary study here…Caucasian male, thirty-five to forty years of age, somewhat overweight, massive contusions and bites covering the arms, legs, ribs, throat and face. In addition, one broken neck. Cause of death, likely a single blow to the head," she turned the face, revealing the claw marks that covered the cheek and some of the skull, "resulting in the severing of the spinal cord. In his right hand, we have a metal pipe that he likely picked up from over there," she gestured toward the dismantled sink, "which means that he saw her coming and had some time to prepare." "Yeah. He may have caught someone unlocking the cage." "Well, it's very definitely an animal attack." Tracy reentered the room and approached the kneeling pair, a Styrofoam cup in her trembling right hand. She raised the cup to her lips and gulped quickly from it. "So what's Homicide doing here?" The pair looked up at the normally cheerful blonde, who was standing grimly behind them. Nick stared down again at the mutilated body. "Somebody let the leopard out." Natalie smiled ironically. "Well there is that, but there are a couple more minor little details." "What?" Natalie gestured to the side, where some of the dead man's blood had pooled. Leading from that pool, in sharp crimson detail, were bloody footprints. "Something you detective-types might call a lead." There were two sets; one cat-like, the other human. "Barefoot," Tracy exclaimed in surprise. "At this time of year?" Natalie shrugged. "Also, we found a knife covered in blood, some ripped children's tights and a pair of torn underwear. And just to make your day really interesting, we've got a missing six year old and two missing security guards." "One of them probably thought it would be fun to let the leopard out and ran when she attacked. He didn't even have time to grab his stash," Tracy suggested. Nick shoved his hands through his hair and sighed in exasperation. "Anything else?" "Well," Natalie covered the victim's face and stood up, arching her back in a brief stretch. "Just what you see." He stood and looked around the room again. Tracy sidestepped the body and approached the cage, studying the rubber bands and glass that littered the floor. "Looks like there was an evening of leopard baiting going on here." Nick nodded. "Yeah. The marijuana stench is still pretty heavy. We'll need the personnel files on the guards." He waited until Tracy seemed fairly involved in exploring the scene before he leaned close to Natalie. "I smell two different types of blood here, both human." She looked up from her notebook and nodded. "I'll see what I can find." "Right. Any info on our barefooter?" Natalie shook her head. "Too bad." "I'll have the autopsy report for the late Mr. Daniels later. Drop by." Nick nodded and watched her as she left. The lure of Natalie and her affections was becoming an almost irresistible temptation and the closeness of their earlier visit made the desire all the more sharp. He was drawn to the nectar of her life and the ache of his love was all the more bittersweet with his knowing that she returned his affections whole-heartedly. To be accepted for all that he was…ahh, but he must continue to resist or run the risk of losing her to either LaCroix's machinations or to his own beast's insatiable hungers. He shook himself from his thoughts. It was pointless to dwell on it. He would continue to hover near her warmth and he would hope for a cure, as he settled for the sweet temptation of friendship. The rest of the coroner's staff were busy bagging the body for transportation. He gave the room another cursory examination, then turned to Tracy. "We need to go talk to the manager and the missing girl's father." Tracy grimaced. "Paper, Scissors, Rock. Loser takes the father?" "I'll take him." "Thanks. I'm not really up for another missing person," she confided self-deprecatingly. "No problem." ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Jack Tonson sat on the small staircase leading to the manager's office. He was hunched over with his head in his hands, rocking and chanting softly to himself. "Oh, God, oh, God. She was asleep in the truck. Oh, God, oh God. It was just for a minute." Nick approached. "Mr. Tonson?" The man looked up, his eyes red and swollen, his carroty hair standing nearly on end. "I'm Detective Knight. Can you answer a few questions?" "Why aren't you out looking for her?" Jack demanded in a tormented tone. "Why are you still here?" "Mr. Tonson, before I can go out looking for her, I have to know what I'm looking for." He knelt next to the distraught man. "I know this is hard and I'll do everything I can to help, but I need you to answer a few questions first. Can you do that?" The man closed his eyes, apparently trying to squeeze away his agony and then answered in a shaky tone. "Yes." Nick nodded then continued in an even tone. "About what time did you arrive at the warehouse?" "About eight o'clock. Katie was asleep. So I parked the truck and locked it up. I didn't figure the paperwork would take so long. It shouldn't have, except that spiteful bastard drew it out." Nick nodded again sympathetic. "And how long did the paperwork take?" "An hour and fifteen minutes." "Did you check on Katie at all during that time?" Tonson drew back and glared at him, defensive. "What are you saying? That I'm a bad father? That I'm negligent? She was asleep! I was less than ten meters away!" "I just need to know exactly when you last saw Katie," Nick said calmingly. "How long she's been gone gives us a probable distance radius to search in." "What if the security guards took her?" Tonson demanded. "They are suspects," Nick admitted. "But at this time, we have no evidence that the security guards were involved in your daughter's disappearance in any way." "They're missing aren't they?" "Yes, they are. That doesn't mean that Katie is with them. We're checking all possible leads…We're doing everything we can to locate them, to see if they can shed some light on what happened here this evening. They may have just run from the leopard and been chased down elsewhere," he murmured another possible reason for the disappearance of the two men. "That doesn't explain Katie's tights and torn underwear!" Nick was silent, unable to offer any believable form of reassurance. The man paled. "Oh, God. Katie." Nick shifted uncomfortably, feeling helpless to comfort the man. "Does this cat have any history that we should be aware of?" he asked, moving on to the next question. "History? You mean is she a man-eater? Not all leopards are, you know. She was caught last year. She doesn't like people, but she's always shown a preference to flee, not attack." "Well apparently the impromptu session of leopard baiting that went on tonight has changed her mind. Do you have a recent picture of Katie and a description of what she's wearing?" Tonson pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and removed a small picture of a little blond girl with a Cheshire cat grin. "She's missing the upper right tooth. It got knocked out early when she was playing on a jungle gym." Nick looked at the picture then slid it into his breast pocket. "And her clothes?" "Her mother put her in one of those little pink Disney dresses with the characters on it. Lion cub. She's wearing pink tights and Lion King sneakers. And she's probably carrying Ben. - her stuffed black bear." Nick nodded. "We'll do the best we can, Mr. Tonson. The best thing you can do now is go home and wait." Tonson shook his head. "No. I don't want to think what might be happening to her…I'll help out in the leopard hunt," he stated. "There are already some zoo employees assisting," Nick informed him comfortingly. "You should really go home…" "Detective!" Jack caught himself, then continued in a thick voice. "I can't do anything at home. Not for Katie. All I can do is think…that I shouldn't have left her alone. That whatever has happened to her is my fault….that…she's so little…If I go home, I'll go mad. The others, they're just trainers. I'm the curator. Maybe we can salvage something out of this evening. I'll do my job, maybe even prevent any more deaths. You go do your job, Detective. You find my baby." Tonson stood and handed Nick a card. "That has my pager, mobile and home phone numbers. Please call me as soon as you hear anything." Nick nodded and watched the dazed parent join the growing search party. Tracy shut the door to the manager's office behind her. The staircase rattled as she descended to his side. "How'd it go?" She asked sympathetically. "The usual. He feels helpless and guilty." Nick shook his head in disgust, "- and he should, he left her alone a long time. But at this point, recriminations are worse than useless. We can deal with it later if it becomes necessary." "If?" Nick showed her the picture of the gamine little face. "We'll be lucky if we find her at all, much less alive." Tracy looked at the photo and reluctantly nodded in agreement. "How'd you do?" She held up three folders. "Company employee files." He nodded. It was a start. They left the building and headed toward the caddie, ignoring the reporters that clamored for attention. Tracy looked at them contemptuously as she slid into the caddie. "Didn't take them long to get here." "It never does." ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Vachon looked up as Urs appeared in the doorway. His fingers stilled on the guitar and he touched the strings to mute their still vibrating tones. "Welcome to my humble abode." He greeted her with a slight ironic smile, enjoying her wrinkled expression of disgust at his condemned and run down choice of residence. "Is my lady slumming that she has placed her dainty foot past my unkempt thresh-hold?" Urs wiped a cobweb fastidiously from her fingertips. "Slumming? Yes. Yes I think that is indeed what this is." She walked across the cluttered floor and dropped next to him on the mattress. A slight cloud of dust rose at her impact and she waved it away with a resigned expression. Vachon studied her face and laid the guitar across his lap. "What's up?" "Trouble. And until it passes, I'm staying here with you." Vachon's liquid dark eyes widened in horror. With him? But this was his space! ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ---- ----- Rajah hung up the telephone receiver and closed his daily planner. The Plaza Hotel had been oh so sorry to loose his business but for a slight gratuity, would deliver his luggage to the Raven later that night. He snorted softly in ironic amusement; he had hardly expected LaCroix to be so understanding of the trouble he had gotten himself into - well, eventually understanding. Then, to make him welcome to stay at the ancient's sanctuary...it was beyond all expectation. Blood was indeed thicker than water - in more ways than one. Well, that took care of his personal affairs for the time being. Now for the business. He studied the business card that he had pulled from his planner and quickly dialed in the mobile number. "Tonson," a harried voice snapped. "Do we have a sighting?" "Jack Tonson?" Rajah confirmed, taking the annoyed grunt as an affirmation. "This is Doctor Pardus Rajah. The zoo has retained me…" Tonson sighed in what sounded like disappointment. "I know who you are Doctor Rajah. You're the animal shrink." "Behaviorist," Rajah corrected with a slight grin. "A wildlife behavior specialist. I am here to ensure that Yaguara makes the transition without undue trauma from her change in habitats." "Well you're too damn late." Rajah caught his breath in surprise and muted hope. "Oh?" "I'm surprised you haven't heard already," Tonson snarled in disgust. "It's all over the news. She's escaped. She was provoked by some security guards at the airport." "Did anybody die?" Rajah asked breathlessly. "There was one man dead at the scene," Tonson answered reluctantly. "The cause of death hasn't been confirmed yet." "What actions have been taken?" Rajah inquired, beginning to tremble with the excitement of it. He wouldn't have to wait. He could find out tonight if she was like him. "We've got a hard target search going on." "A hunt. What weapons?" "Zoo employees have tranquilizer guns, police have their issue firearms. You're supposed to be a hotshot tracker aren't you? You going to join?" Tonson demanded sarcastically. Rajah ignored the other man's bluster. It was just the talk of a male not liking another male entering his territory. Especially when that male's credentials were superior to his own. "I have other business I must attend to," Rajah excused himself. "Don't we all?" Tonson retorted. "It unfortunately can't wait. Also, I'm phototropic…allergic to sunlight. I won't be able to join you until tomorrow night." "Yeah. Don't do me any favors," Tonson growled. "Mr…" the click at the other end signaled that the connection had been broken. "Damn human," Rajah hissed. She had killed. Without time to hope, wish or pray, his fate was already in motion, dependent upon the slim chance that Yaguara was one of his own kind. ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- LaCroix stared at the muted TV, which was tuned to news coverage at the Toronto airport. Things had come to a head much sooner than either he or Rajah had expected. But then, with the stupidity of humans, all things were possible. He prepared quietly for his show, sliding the headphones snugly over his ears and adjusting the height of the microphone. It was a ritual he carried out every night, meticulously arranging the radio paraphernalia for his own comfort, though now that his broadcast was done at the Raven, he no longer had to share the broadcast gear. Several moments ticked by as he waited for his scheduled time slot. As he waited, he watched the news, his preternatural hearing picking up the slight sound that even a muted TV gave off; far out of the range of human reception, well within his. He listened to the reporter's ghoulish monologue with amusement, then noticed that it was time. He bent to the microphone. "I was going to speak of obligations and free choices mes amis. And yet the night has offered up another subject for our delectation. Death. For those of you who have not been paying attention to the news, the lovely Yaguara has decided that she didn't like her previously arranged living accommodations. She has decided to make other plans. Toronto's finest are - even as we speak - on the job. "Do you ever offer a prayer for the wild things, my children? When you cast your prayers to the uncaring ears of God, do you ever remember the wild things whose homes have become your shopping malls, your burger joints and your movie theaters? Their streams and water sources dumping locations for your refuse and the odd dead body. Do you ever recall that they once roamed where your condominiums and apartment buildings and houses now stand? Or do you brush such thoughts away as you would an insect buzzing in your face, a minor irritant to be squashed without pity, without thought should it not pass on and leave you be. " Is Survival of the Fittest your creed and Darwin the lord to whom you've sworn your allegiance? Should all the things that lived before be cast to the wayside, forgotten refuse in Man's race to dominate the globe? Should we let the candles of their existence flicker and die, quoting Darwin and evolution as species after species disappear forever, watching them falter in pitying contempt as they are pushed into smaller and smaller spaces until there are no more spaces? "Where do the wild things belong? In a zoo, behind iron bars with their diets and exercise regime scheduled for them? Where their mates are not chosen by any preferential trait or strength in the genetic line, but by the availability of the correct gender at the right age? Where school children can throw popcorn and partially eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at creatures that were once worshipped as Gods? "Do they belong in the jungles and forests that disappear more each day while you preach that something should be done and don't lift a finger in your lazy apathy? "Or do they belong in your neighborhood, wandering freely down your street, across your backyard, hiding in park trees or city alleys? Who is the fittest if you are without your guns gentle listeners? Whose claws are sharper and fangs, longer? In the night, who is the hunter and who is the prey? "Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry "In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes! On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare sieze the fire! "Once, they died by the hundreds so men could mount their heads on walls and make their pelts into rugs, claws and teeth, weapons of defense and survival turned into trinket jewelry. But no more. Death was cruel. Now, the King of Beasts is dragged from his realm and now he and his brethren do tricks to amuse you. They jump through hoops and sit up and allow their trainers to put their heads in their mouths. Mighty kings humbled for your enjoyment. . "And what shoulder, & what art. Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand! & what dread feet! "What the hammer! what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain What the anvil, what dread grasp, Dare its deadly terrors clasp! "No more hunting for these beasts. Their hunting grounds belong to man now as do their prey. But we will share will we not? Cage the kings and unwrap their meals from cellophane. File their teeth, they don't need them anymore. Yes, man knows what is best for the beast. His scant century or two of knowledge is much greater than their thousands of years of instinct. "When the stars threw down their spear And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see Did he who made the Lamb make thee! "No compassion and no mercy. Steal all that was theirs. They're only animals. They have no souls do they? "Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry! "She's out there my children. A shadow moving through the night, uprooted from all she knew and brought here so you can look at her. Well…look." LaCroix turned the microphone off and looked again across the room at the muted television set. Camera crews struggled to get by restraining police officers, their recorded images lurching as they tried to get a look at the mauled body of the as yet unidentified victim. The reporters commented in ghoulish detail and melodramatic tones, repeating stories of leopard maulings and death tolls from New Orleans and other cities. Their technique was designed to reduce their viewers to the primitives that did not leave their homes after night had cast its curtain, fearful of all the things they could neither see nor understand. They focused on the police and zoo employees; the conquering heroes sent out to do battle with their demon of the night. Brave hunters with their rifles and guns as they set out their many upon Yaguara's one. LaCroix looked through the glass that separated him from the noise of the Raven. His son stood on the other side, watching him. He could see the question in Rajah's eyes. Not a permission to go. Rajah would go regardless of his Sire's permission. No. It was a request for LaCroix to go with him, to show him the ins and outs of the city as Rajah had not yet had time to familiarize himself with the local terrain. And to be there when Rajah found out for sure if Yaguara was indeed one of his people…If she was, then they must find out what remained of her intellect and sanity after a year or longer in her altered state. LaCroix nodded. ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- "Well…Look," the Nightcrawler taunted softly. Tracy grimaced and glared at Nick. "Why do you like this guy?" She demanded in disgust. "Some guy gets killed by an animal and his response is to try and make people feel guilty for how that animal and its species have been mistreated?" She snorted and shook her head. "I have as much sympathy for their plight as the next person, but please! We can't have animals killing people." Nick glanced at her outraged countenance with a slight mischievous smile. "Darwinist huh?" She glared at him. "All right. All right," he surrendered. "You win. Change the station." "Some victory," she muttered, leaning forward to do so. "The show's already over." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ Vachon watched as Urs leaned to the side of the mattress and plucked up a book from the floor. She held the book gingerly between her fingers and disgustedly blew some dust from its cover. The Spaniard scowled in offense. "Are you going to complain about the accommodations all night or are you going to tell me why you're here and what's going on?" "I haven't complained," she retorted defensively opening the begrimed paperback. He raised his brows eloquently as she studiously and determinedly put her nose into the dog-eared sci-fi. "Well?" She turned the page. "I haven't decided yet." "Is Dune going to help you decide?" "I'll tell you when I'm ready…You'll probably just panic." She read, half heartedly at first, simply trying to distract herself from the terror that curled in her belly like a cold knot. Soon, despite her distaste for science-fiction stories, she was engrossed in the unfolding scene. She turned the begrimed pages, unmindful of the dirt that lingered on her pale fingers as she read the plight of Paul Atreides being tested to see if he was human. She was not fascinated by the young man because he was being tested by someone obviously older and much more powerful than him. She was captivated because his intellect overcame his instinct for self-preservation. He refused to let the fear dominate him. Her cornflower blue gaze halted on the litany that Paul spoke to himself over and over again. She reread it. Then reread it again, whispering the mantra within her mind. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it is gone past me I will turn to see fear's path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. LaCroix punished any who meddled in his affairs, regardless how slight that infraction might have been. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it is gone past me I will turn to see fear's path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. Enforcers brooked no interference in their duties. The smallest of offenses could still mean at best, death. I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it is gone past me I will turn to see fear's path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. Nick was probably the one then Enforcers were after. She owed Nick; he had been partially responsible for Vachon's continued stay in Toronto. She repeated the litany. ---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- Chapter 3 Her name was Jenna. She remembered that. Jenna Lemieux. She clutched the child tight in her arms and placed one foot in front of the other, steadily moving down the icy road. Her bare feet sank into the icy water of the salted snow and she shivered. She lived at Water Towers Condominiums #625 in Beliz, South America. And before that, she had lived at 1221 Rootledge Court in Montreal, Canada. She even remembered her phone numbers, the new one and the old one. Her mother had refused to let her go to the complex playground with Mariana until she knew her address and phone number by heart. She had done even better by remembering them both. She remembered her parents' names: Jared and Elizebeth Lemieux. She remembered how to write her name, how to add and subtract and even how to decode the letters in her Reader. And yet, despite all those memories, she didn't remember how she came to be in that room with the bloody man and the strange little girl on the floor. There were other memories, but they were more like faded nightmares, dark disjointed flashes of images coupled with overwhelming smells and textures. Green. Earth. Hunger…Pain. She didn't understand them and they frightened her. There was something she was supposed to know. Something she should understand, but didn't. She pushed those thoughts away and took another step forward, the snow beneath her bare feet oozing between her toes and over her skin of her ankles. Her feet were so cold that they hurt. She had cried at first from the pain in her face and ribs and from the cold, but her tears had frozen to her cheeks and she had stopped. She wanted her mommy and daddy. She wanted to know why she had woken up naked in a strange room with a dead man and a bleeding little girl. She wanted to know why she hurt, why everything smelled so bad, why she was in the snow when snow never fell in South America. Why she was so tall and why they weren't there to take care of her. The girl had stared at her with huge eyes, clutching her bedraggled stuffed bear in front of her as if it were a shield that could protect her. Jenna had stood, wobbling for a moment, and the girl had cowered back, as if she had hurt her. Bewildered, she had crooned to the little girl like she had to her cat Murasaki, kneeling with her hand out- stretched until the little girl had let her come close. The little girl was bleeding and bruised all over, even between her legs. Jenna was scared; bleeding from there was bad. The man was dead, she and this girl were both hurt, and the bad guys, whoever they were, might come back. She wanted to find a phone and call the police. The man on the floor looked like he had been wearing a police shirt but she didn't like him and she didn't know why. And then there was the cage…The cage frightened her more than anything else. If the dead man was a policeman why was he alone? Had he been rescuing them? She didn't know. Until she found out, there was no other choice but to get herself and this other little girl out of the building before the bad guys, who ever they were, came back. She had helped the other little girl to her feet, whispering that they had to leave, tugging at her urgently to hurry, but there had been no response. The other girl just stared in front of her blankly, completely unresponsive until Jenna finally gave up and tried to carry her. The little girl was lighter than Jenna had expected, although much heavier than the dolls that Jenna had once played with. She had found coveralls for the both of them in a nearby locker-room. She had then climbed out of an open window in the connecting bathroom, pulling the girl with her. That was forever ago. Now she walked, her new friend tied to her back by the pantlegs and sleeves of the little girl's stolen coveralls. Jenna trudged forward, the feeling in her toes fading away. She was relieved that the pain had stopped. She was tired but she wouldn't rest until she found help. Snow fell lightly. She almost wished that she had tried to flag down one of the cars that had gone by earlier, but she knew better. Don't talk to strangers and don't take rides from strangers. Then in the distance she saw it. Down the road and to the right was a white building with a red plus on the sign. A hospital. She sobbed in relief and walked a little faster. She remembered that red mark too. It showed you where to go if you were hurt. ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Donna Taroy stared blankly at the clipboard she held, then glanced at the watch strapped to the inside of her wrist. Her shift didn't end for another hour and she was more than sick of filling out endless insurance forms. She groaned and dropped the board to her desk, resting her face in her hands. She heard the soft chime of the front door opening and glared resentfully at the textured window that separated the reception cubicle from the clinic's waiting room. How could she finish all the paperwork if people interrupted her? It was probably another kid, like the Olsen boy, too stupid to keep his jacket on while sledding. Sweating without a jacket in the snow, pneumonia or at the least a cold was bound to strike you down. She was so busy feeling resentful, that she almost didn't hear it. "Help. Please help me. She's hurt. Help." Frowning in puzzlement, Donna slid the window to the side and looked out at the young woman standing in the waiting room. She was slender and tall, dressed in mechanic's coveralls and nothing more; her head and feet were bare. Her black hair was plastered to her skull wet, with a mixture of sweat and snow. Her skin had a bluish tint to it. But what really horrified Donna was the huge bruise the covered nearly all of the right side of her face. Not several small bruises, just one that spread from hairline to jawbone. Donna stood and gasped when she realized the woman had a child tied to her back. The young woman looked at her piteously with pale green eyes. "Help. We need help." She felt petty and mean, worrying about meaningless paperwork when these two were obviously suffering. "Stay right there," she ordered urgently and fled out the back door of the cubicle. She jogged down the short hall to the breakroom where the Registered Nurse was taking his coffee break. "Jerry!" she said sharply. "We've got a possible assault trauma out here, compounded by hypothermia! Possible frostbite!" Jerry dropped the newspaper immediately. Forgetting his coffee break entirely, he followed Donna out to the waiting room. The young woman was on her knees, awkwardly trying to unload the child that she was carrying to one of the chairs. They knelt next to her and tugged at the knotted legs and sleeves. "What happened?" Jerry asked in an even tone. "I don't know," the woman answered as they lifted the little girl from her back. "I woke up and she was there in the room with the cage and the man. She was bleeding and he was dead. I was scared so I picked her up and ran away. Help her." "I will," he reassured her absently as he pulled out a penlight and checked the little girl's pupil reaction. "She's in shock. Go call an ambulance," he ordered Donna. "I'll get her body temperature up." Donna nodded and exited, leaving him with the young woman sitting on the floor next to him. She watched him with a frightened expression. "How come we have to go?" The woman asked in a worried tone. "Aren't you a doctor? Can't you help her?" Jerry shook his head. "I'm an R.N. She needs more help than I can give here at the Clinic. Is this your sister?" he asked, beckoning her to follow him as he picked the little girl up and headed toward one of the examining rooms. The young woman followed him into the room. "No. I don't know her. I woke up and she was there." He laid the little blonde child on the bed and looked up at the brunette. Something about her speech pattern struck him as strange and he carefully asked, "What's your name?" "Jenna Lemieux." He nodded and began to strip the huge coveralls of his patient. "How old are you Jenna?" "Six and a half." He looked up at her sharply, then nodded to himself. She was either special, or the blow to her head had done some serious damage. "Sit down, Jenna." He nodded toward the corner chair. The little girl still showed no response to him although she had turned her head to the side to follow Jenna with her eyes. Donna entered the examining room, halting at the sight of the little girl whose pink outfit was more red than pink. "The ambulance is on its way." There were numerous cuts on her arms and holes slashed through her little dress. The Disney character on it was painted garish red. "She was bleeding between her legs," Jenna stated calmly, staring back into the little girl's gaze. Jerry glanced at Donna then took a deep breath. He looked at the little girl on the table and touched her shoulder lightly. "Honey, I need to look between your legs to see how badly you're hurt. I know that you're scared and uncomfortable, but I have to see how you're hurt before I or the other doctors can make the pain stop okay? Don't worry, Donna and Jenna are going to be right here with us and all I'm going to do right now is look. Okay?" The little girl didn't look away from Jenna but Jerry noted the ever so slight nod. Stomach clenching at what he knew he was going to find, he slid some latex gloves on and carefully examined the little girl. She whimpered but didn't struggle. Jerry lowered her dress, then pulled the blanket at the foot of the bed up and over her, tucking it tenderly around her. "You did just fine. The ambulance is going to be here in a little while to take you to the hospital where they can fix you right up. I'd do it here, but I can't. A different kind of doctor will help you. Now you wait right here and I'll be right back, okay?" The girl ignored him, extending her hand toward Jenna who stood up and took it. Jerry pulled Donna to the doorway. "Tell the paramedics then call the hospital. Tell them to get a rape kit ready and to call the police. I've got to get an IV in her." She nodded and headed back toward the phone as she heard the ambulance pull up outside. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ------ ----- ----- Natalie stripped off her latex gloves and tossed them into the Infectious Waste receptacle. She had just finished the autopsy on Cody Daniels and it was time to reward all her hard efforts with a little snack. She crossed the Autopsy Suite to the cabinet where she kept her secret stash, her stomach grumbling ruthlessly. Pausing to assure herself of privacy, she knelt and removed the box of Ritz crackers from behind the cleaning supplies. The box rattled ominously. Suspicious, she hefted the box experimentally and frowned: maybe her secret stash wasn't so secret. Knowing what she'd find, the auburn haired woman opened the package and scowled at the note left amidst the crumbs: I Owe U, your secret debtor. Her stomach growled again and Natalie wrinkled her nose in irritation. "Great." Grace sauntered in carrying a clipboard. "All done with Mr. Daniels?" Natalie dropped the empty cracker box into the Infectious Waste receptacle and sighed. "Yeah, I'm done with Daniels. And what a prince of a guy he was." Grace glanced at the dead man's face. "What do you mean?" "We found a little girl's tights and underwear at the scene. I found blood and semen on the corpse. Just my opinion, but most men don't ejaculate when they're being mauled to death by a leopard. Ergo, he ejaculated before." Natalie glared down at Cody's lacerated face. "He must have raped that little girl," she concluded sadly, then continued in a more biting tone. "He got what he deserved." Grace studied Natalie for a moment, knowing that the younger woman was remembering the rape and murder of her own Godchild. Silently, knowing that there was nothing to say, the diener covered the dead man's face. "Come on down the hall, hon. I'll buy you a candy bar." Natalie smiled slightly. "You big spender you. I can't. I've got to get the report ready for Nick and Tracy. I know it's early, but did we get anything back yet on the blood or fingerprints?" "The blood on the genitals isn't his. We haven't got any details other than he's B Negative and the blood on the genitalia and the knife is AB Negative." "And the fingerprints?" "Well, we got a break there; a match popped right up. Daniels was arrested for assault a few months ago. His prints are all over the bloody knife and on the key to the leopard's cage." "The bastard probably let the cat go to clean up his mess," Natalie theorized. "Except it backfired…At least he suffered." "His fingerprints aren't on any of the other keys on the rest of the ring. I don't think they were his." "Hey, how about if we decide that," a familiar feminine voice interrupted. The two women looked up as Nick and Tracy entered the room. "You're on," Grace told Natalie as she passed her the file. She smiled at the two detectives and without hesitation left the coroner to their tender mercies. Nick stared at the expression of cold viciousness on Natalie's face in grim fascination. He had known her for nearly five years, had seen her laughing and crying, grief stricken and tender but he had never seen such a look of complete unfettered joy in someone else's pain and death. The closest he had come to seeing cruelty within her had been when her Goddaughter had been murdered. Even then, the savageness of her anger had been intermixed with grief and sorrow. "Come for the details on the deceased?" she queried tossing the folder onto the counter almost negligently. Tracy glanced uncertainly at Nick, dismayed by this facet of Natalie's psyche. She had seen Natalie detached, even indifferent to the corpses she had examined before…but she had never seen her like this. Tracy was frightened to witness such sadistic satisfaction radiating from the chestnut haired coroner "Uhh, yeah." "Cause of death was stupidity. " Nick frowned as she whipped the sheet uncaringly off the victim as if he were a hunk of meat. He listened as she began describing the damage in an unconcerned tone. "Cody Daniels…Caucasian…age thirty-eight…six foot even, weighing two hundred and thirteen pounds. Time of death…between nine and ten p.m. Epidermal tissue and muscle damage to both arms, shoulder and torso, with some lacerations to the neck - not deep enough to be of any real concern. Cause of death: a blow to the left side of the head, resulting in the severing of the spinal cord. Bite marks and claw marks are consistent with a large cat attack." Tracy nodded and turned to go; the autopsy had been largely a formality anyway. It was obvious that the leopard had done it. "In addition," Natalie continued, "the victim's fingerprints matched those on the bloody knife and on the key that unlocked the leopard's cage, although the fingerprints on the rest of the keys did not match his. The blood on the knife was not his, nor was it the leopard's. The exact identity of that person is unknown at this time. The blood on the knife also matches the blood that was mixed with semen on the victim's genitalia." Nick was still, remembering the articles of clothing at the scene. Daniels had raped little Katie Tonson, he concluded. Then, for some unknown reason, he had released the leopard. Maybe he'd hoped that if the leopard had clawed her up, an autopsy would have been inconclusive. Instead, the cat had killed Daniels and apparently dragged the child off, probably to consume it. He understood the anger now. She hated this particular breed of monster most of all. For that matter, so did he. Tracy wrinkled her brow. "You think he raped the kid?" Natalie whipped the sheet back over the dead man's body. "Yeah, I do." Tracy nodded and backed away. She looked at Nick to see if he was coming and he motioned her off. After Tracy had left, Nick approached Natalie cautiously. He rested his hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Are you all right?" "I'm not the one who was brutally raped and stabbed," she answered, remaining still beneath his hands. She wanted to lean back against him and push the hatred that boiled in her belly away, but old memories and pain were awakening and it sickened her that no matter how many molesters were caught, there were always more out there. "Meagan's Law", the U.S. legislation which required all sex offenders be electronically registered should be made global. Vampires could use it as a menu, she thought grimly. She knew that she should feel ashamed at those thoughts. Knew that she could likely never share her hunger for vengeance with Nick. Her fragile knight would be horrified if he suspected her blood thirsty thoughts, but some people deserved to die and what more useful way than to feed the growing vampire population at the same time. She repressed a snigger at the thought of prisoners on Death Row walking down the long hall and into a room with nothing more than a vampire, waiting to drain them dry at the stroke of midnight. Nick squeezed her shoulders gently. "Don't devalue life, Nat. Even his. Once you start, each subsequent one becomes easier until you're no better than the beasts you wanted dead." She knew that but fluffy little philosophies of "becoming that which you sought to destroy" were just so much hot air when children were destroyed everyday to feed some madman's fantasies. Would it be so bad to have monsters for killing monsters? Nick sensed her inner struggle to control her hatred. It was a justified hatred, but he didn't want the ugliness of it to touch her. Not her. He pulled her against him and Natalie leaned back, feeling closer to life with a vampire than her own vengeful human thoughts. Long moments passed, and then the shrill ringing of his phone broke the intimacy. Natalie broke away and turned back to the counter and the report that needed to be typed up. Nick watched her sadly, despising the cell phone at the same time as he thanked it from removing the temptation from his arms. The phone shrilled again and he answered it, "Knight." Natalie turned around and watched him, as his expression became grim. "Well?" she asked as he hung up. "Katie Tonson is alive and at the hospital." He stared sadly into her blue gaze. "They're doing a rape kit on her now." Natalie nodded. "I've got to get down there." He hesitated at the door, already missing the lost moment of intimacy. "I'll see you later." He pushed out the door, going to join Tracy who was waiting patiently in his car. Natalie watched him go. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ Nick slid into the caddy next to Tracy who was hanging up her own cell phone. He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Call the father will you? They found Katie Tonson. She's alive and at the hospital." She took the business card and studied him carefully. "Natalie all right?" "She's fine." Tracy nodded and fell silent. Nick turned off the radio as he pulled out of the parking lot. He had no interest in what Tracy thought passed for music and the Nightcrawler show was over for the evening. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Rajah studied the warehouse thoughtfully. The darkened building looked abandoned, the yellow caution tape fluttering in the breeze like forgotten ribbons. The police had long since disappeared on their hunt of the leopard, leaving no one behind to guard the crime scene. He flashed across the parking lot, his vampiric speed making him all but invisible to the human eye. LaCroix appeared next to him. Together they entered the empty building. "How will you know if she is one of you?" LaCroix asked curiously. "I was not able to differentiate you from other mortals until I saw." Rajah paced through the hallway, following the police tape and the smell of the blood. "Scent. There is a different scent that accompanies the change. If she is my kind, there will be that scent nearby the slaying and if we are fortunate, the scent of her human form." LaCroix followed his son into the room and watched as Rajah stilled. He inhaled deeply, as if he were breathing in the fragrance of a flower, then smiled, his teeth flashing whitely against his dark skin