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. "Yes?" LaCroix queried. "Yes," the younger vampire sighed his affirmative. He padded over to the chalk outline of the body and inhaled again. "Do you smell it? It is like the leopard and like woman. It is both and neither, sharp and spicy punctuated with a hint of musk." LaCroix inhaled, detecting it. Had he not known what to smell for, he would have dismissed it as leopard and woman overlapping, not combined, and it was faint, diluted by the number of men and women who had traversed the room, leaving their scents in their wakes. "Can you identify hers?" Rajah moved slowly away from the chalk outline, his eyes closed as he blocked one sense in order to concentrate more fully on another. "She changed here…next to a bleeding child." LaCroix nodded. Male and female children, unless they used special shampoos or soaps, generally smelled alike until they reached the age when their body chemistry marked the onset of puberty. Rajah frowned. "There are too many scents to find a clear sample of hers." "Follow the bleeding child," LaCroix suggested. Rajah nodded and, after a moment, moved toward the door opposite of the one they'd entered through. On the floor beneath him, marked by surrounding tape, were bloody prints left by bare feet. Just outside the door, the blood trail faded and disappeared on the dark concrete floor. Rajah did not hesitate. He moved down the hall and pushed open a door that led to a locker room. From there it was easy. The female forensics technicians had not entered the locker room or the connecting bathroom. There was only one female smell intermixed with the various odors of the bathroom and it was jasmine with a faint trace of rain and an even slighter trace of strawberries. "I've got her." Rajah stated opening his pale green eyes. "Wherever she's going, she's taking the child with her." "Perhaps to kill her," LaCroix suggested. "No," the younger predator stated certainly. "If she had meant to kill the child, she would have killed it immediately after killing the man. She's protecting it." Rajah stared dismally at the open window above the sink. "We won't be able to follow. The snow would have wiped out any trace of her scent outside and covered her footprints." "Be logical Rajah," the ancient rebuked gently. "If she's protecting the child and it is injured, she will have to find assistance for it somewhere. She left on foot. We will assume that she followed the city lights toward Toronto. The nearest medical facility is where she would have stopped. Let's go while the night is still with us." Rajah glanced at the watch strapped to his wrist; three-fifteen. They took to the air. ---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Chapter 4 Jenna sat on the bed across from the other little girl. She swung her feet idly and yawned. She was very tired. She could tell that her new friend was tired too, but the doctors were so busy running tests and insisting that it had to be done right away that Katie hadn't been allowed to go to sleep yet. They had identified her friend from a picture on a piece of paper; her name was Katie Tonson. The policewoman stood near the door with her Polaroid camera in her hand. In her other hand, were several pictures of Katie, all of them showing the bruises and cuts and other hurts to her little body. Jenna looked down at her sock-covered toes and wiggled them experimentally. Feeling had come back to them slowly. The doctors had smiled and said that she had no frostbite. Frostbite was when things turned black and fell off, she remembered that, so she was glad that she didn't have it. She looked up and caught the nurse looking at her with a sad expression. Strange, since she hadn't thought the lady liked her earlier. They had tried to separate Jenna from her friend. The little blonde had begun screaming as the doctors forced Jenna out the door. They had taken Jenna away to take pictures of the inside of her head and to examine the nasty bruise on her cheek. She didn't remember getting it, but it certainly hurt. After they were done examining her injuries, they returned her to the room where Katie was. The doctors had complained to the lady nurses that Katie hadn't stopped screaming since they'd taken Jenna away. They said that Jenna and Katie had to stay together, so Katie would be calm and let the doctors help. Jenna frowned. Katie always seemed quiet enough for her. Now the little blond girl lay back on the hospital bed, her thumb in her mouth, wet stuffed bear wrapped in a towel and her eyes half closed as she watched Jenna. Jenna yawned again and laid down on the soft bed. She was so tired. She was hungry too, but she was more tired. She was different now than when she last remembered. Now, she looked like a grown up. The doctors said that she had probably lost her memory because she'd been hit on the head hard. They said it would probably come back. She hoped so. Not knowing was scary. They fell asleep, oblivious to the doctor and nurse who watched them, making notes on their clipboards and the cop who watched silently from the door. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- The soft tones of a Spanish lullaby filled the interior of the candle lit church as Vachon carefully picked out the intricate chords. Urs sat nearby apparently engrossed in the book, seemingly oblivious to Vachon's periodic questioning glances. She rested the bare sole of her foot against his calf, taking comfort in the mere presence of her Sire, knowing that he would be incapable of giving anything more. She didn't feel nearly as alone and vulnerable as she had earlier when facing the cold Enforcer. The aching chill the ancient had instilled within her arm was only now fading, its lingering effect a testament to the Enforcer's power. As for telling Vachon, she wasn't sure. He had broken vampire Code and at the mere hint of Enforcer presence, regardless whether or not they were there for him, he could decide to run. She liked Toronto and she wanted him to stay. His presence and companionship were a comfort in her immortal life. And he could stay if he was careful. He no longer had the Inca to contend with…Just a curious mortal resistor. ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Nick glanced at his watch and walked down the hall after Tracy. The administrator in Emergency had given them Katie Tonson's room number. The little girl's condition was reported as stable. Any other information would have to requested from her doctor, Patrick Ross. Although it was unlikely the little girl would be able to talk to them, Nick hoped that she would be able to shed some light on the evening's events. They entered the room and halted as the female uniform turned toward them. "I'm Michaels," she said softly. "I waited until you got here so you could see the pictures and not have to wake the kid up for another examination." She handed over the Poloroids. Nick took the photographs and looked over at the little girl dwarfed in the hospital bed. "How long has she been asleep?" "Ten minutes." Michaels stepped out of the room, gesturing for the two detectives to follow her. "A quick rundown: an ambulance brought in the girl about forty minutes ago. She's got multiple knife wounds, a couple of fractured ribs and rape trauma. They've done the rape kit, cleaned and stitched her up but she's uncommunicative. She responds to orders and requests, but she doesn't say anything. Her wounds weren't lethal; I'd say that they were part of his enjoyment." Nick he flipped through the photos, noting the damage done. "Anything else?" "Yeah. The woman." Nick and Tracy looked at her in surprise, then leaned into the room to get a glance at the second occupant. Michaels waited until they were facing her again. "She showed up at the Easton Medical Clinic wearing coveralls from the airport warehouse and completely barefoot. She carried the kid on her back. She's got a massive bruise on her face and so far the doctors have defined her as an amnesiac. She thinks that she's six years old. I called it in and checked, but no one's reported her missing. Now for the interesting part." She paused and Nick looked up as Michaels opened her notepad. "She says her name is Jenna Lemieux. That her parents' names are Jared and Elizabeth Lemieux. And that her home address is Water Towers Condominiums #625 in Beliz, South America…" "South America?" Nick and Tracy repeated in shock. "She's even got a phone number. Before that, she says they lived at 1221 Rootledge Court in Montreal, Canada. Got a phone number for that too." Michaels tore a page from her pad. "I made a copy of it all for you." Nick took the page then looked at Michaels. "Did you take her statement?" "She's a kid," policewoman emphasized. "She's lost. She's scared and she wants her parents. Don't let her appearance fool you. She's real self-contained, acts like a little adult but she still thinks she's six. She says she woke up with the little girl and the dead man. She said that the dead man looked kind of like a police officer and that she didn't like him - she didn't know why. Thinking that the 'bad guys' might come back, she picked up the little girl and got out of there. She found some coveralls in a locker room, put some on them both, then carried Katie to help." Nick was impressed at the initiative of the so-called six year old. "Any chance she's faking it?" "Doctors don't think so." He nodded. "Thanks Michaels. Anything else?" Nick asked as the officer turned to leave. "Yeah. Don't try to separate them. The little one went hysterical and wouldn't stop screaming until Jenna was in her line of sight again." Nick and Tracy watched Michaels leave, then turned toward to door. "What do you think?" Tracy asked. Nick put the photos in his pocket. "I haven't decided yet." He paused as the elevator down the hall opened and the sounds of a loud argument poured out. Jack Tonson exited the elevator accompanied by a beautiful fashionably dressed woman. "Your visitation rights are over, Jack," the sleek brunette snarled through ruby painted lips. "No judge in their right mind would let you retain them after your negligent behavior tonight." "Well, I've still got them right now," Tonson retorted in a tired voice. "You better kiss her goodbye then. Because if I can help it, you bastard, you'll never see her again." The argument grew louder as the pair progressed down the hall toward Nick and Tracy. Nick pursed his lips in disapproval. He'd always found airing the family's dirty linen in public distasteful. That the couple was doing it in a hospital and during their daughter's present crisis was reprehensible. "I think you need to talk to the parents," he commented to Tracy. "Go prepare them for what they're going to find while I try questioning this Jenna." Tracy wrinkled her nose. That was a lose-lose situation. "Fine." She started down the hall and intercepted Jack Tonson and his teary-eyed ex. At least she assumed it was his ex from the woman's behavior. Nick went into the room and watched as a nurse finished changing the I.V. bag attached to Katie's arm. Little Katie had been roughed up pretty good. She looked pale and fragile in her hospital gown. Her arms were covered with bandages and there were several on her face. She lay on her back, thumb in her mouth and face turned toward the occupant of the other bed. She'd been hurt badly, but she'd survive. Nick headed toward the older girl, but was intercepted by the nurse. "Detective Knight," he identified himself, flipping out his badge for her tight-lipped inspection. The nurse shook her head adamantly. "I don't care if you're the Pope. Until Dr. Ross okays it, nobody sees these two but family." "I understand your concern," Nick reassured her earnestly. "But these two are material witnesses. I need to know what they saw tonight." "They're both suffering from exposure, exhaustion and assault," the nurse explained firmly. "I think you can wait until tomorrow to speak with them." Nick stared hard at the woman. "I'm going to speak with Jenna, not Katie." "Jenna is-" He reached out to capture her heartbeat. *A few minutes won't hurt.* The nurse blinked then continued, "Five minutes, no more." "That's fine." ----- ------ ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- Jenna snapped awake and stared at the man who was approaching her bed. Clouded images from her dreams haunted her and she pushed them away, not wanting to remember the shadowy forest, the shrill screams that echoed in the air…awful crunching sound just before salty liquid filled her mouth. "Jenna?" the blonde man approaching her bed said softly. "I'm Detective Knight. I'd like to ask you a couple of questions." She nodded. "Can you tell me what you remember?" "I woke up in a strange room. There was a cage there. There was a dead man on the floor and she was there." She pointed to Katie. "What about the leopard? The big black cat?" Jenna blinked in confusion. "What leopard?" "Wasn't there one in the cage?" "No. It was empty." "Why didn't you wait for help?" Nick asked, watching the way she fidgeted with the blankets. "I didn't know who had hurt the man or…Katie." At his nod she continued. "I didn't know who had hurt Katie. I didn't want them to come back and get us, so I took Katie and went for help." "Why were you wearing the coveralls?" "I was cold. When I woke up I was naked." Nick blinked in surprise then continued. "Do you remember anyone else being there?" She shook her head. "Two young men?" She shook her head. He sighed in frustration then smiled reassuringly at her. "All right. Thanks Jenna. You get some sleep." "Detective, will you let my parents know where I am?" He nodded as the door to the room opened and the Tonsons came in to look at their daughter. He and Jenna watched as Jack and Amanda stared at Katie, tears streaming down their faces. Amanda Tonson eased forward between the two beds to her daughter's side. She sat down and lightly pushed some of Katie's hair to the side. Katie woke up with a startled gasp and whimpered. "Easy baby, it's Mommy," Amanda crooned reassuringly, reaching forward to gather the little girl to her. Katie pulled her thumb out of her mouth and screamed, her eyes searching the room. Both parents reached forward to comfort her, terrified by her reaction, causing her to scream even louder. Nick stared at the terrified child in horror then looked at Jenna, remembering what Michaels had said. He stood and pulled the Tonsons to the side, ignoring their bellows of rage and distress. Katie focused on Jenna and was abruptly silent. She reached out her hand and Jenna got up from her bed and took it. The Tonsons stared at the stranger in shock. "Mr. and Mrs. Tonson," Nick uttered softly. "This is Jenna. She saved your little girl's life. Katie's very attached to her right now and can't stand for her to be out of her sight." ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ------ ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- Nick shut the door behind him and glanced at his watch; forty-five minutes until dawn. Just enough time to drop Tracy at her apartment and then get home. He stopped in the waiting room and looked at the sleeping blonde in exasperation. Time…if he could wake her up. ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ "There are Enforcers in town." Vachon froze, the music coming to a discordant halt. "They revealed themselves to you?" Urs dropped the book on her lap. "Yes." "What did you do?" he demanded accusingly. She turned and glared at him, offended that he'd even asked. "I haven't broken any part of the code." "They only reveal themselves to the people they're here for. What did you do?" She stared down at her lap, embarrassed. "I made a pass at one while he was headed toward LaCroix." Vachon's jaw dropped open in astonishment then he laughed. He couldn't help it. "You're here because you made a pass at an Enforcer?" He sobered abruptly and sat straight up. "What are you, insane?" "He was there for LaCroix." Vachon snorted in disbelief. "LaCroix is the quintessential vampire. Even if he did break the Code, nobody would ever know." Then realization struck. "Nick." Urs raised her brows questioningly. "The vampire detective who was asking about you?" "One and the same." He lay the guitar to the side and stood quickly, headed toward the door. "Where are you going?" "To warn him. Tracy can't be with him when things go down, otherwise she's as good as-" "You can't interfere with the Enforcers," she broke in urgently, rising to move next to him. "You wouldn't likely be on their good side right now either." "What have I done?" he demanded, wondering if she knew. "You neglected to leave town after you died in an explosion," she reminded him, not mentioning the other itty, bitty crime of letting a mortal know about him and live. "Hey, nobody living saw me aboard that plane." She cocked her head to the side disgustedly. "You still shouldn't rub their noses in it by letting them see you." He frowned. "You're right…I'll call." He turned to face the room at large and looked around the cluttered floor. "Now where did I put that cell phone?" Urs groaned. Whatever had happened to ditching town at the first sign of trouble?…Minding your own business?…Keeping a low profile? So she was glad he wasn't running out, but that didn't mean he had to go running in either. ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ The sun rose steadily in the sky. Two figures burst through the door of the Raven and shut it behind them, smoke clouding the air from their smoldering bodies. LaCroix waved at the opaque cloud emanating from himself and strode toward the bar to get himself a drink. "That was closer than I normally prefer." Rajah nodded and sat down as the ancient poured them both a drink. "All in all a very successful evening. The people at the Clinic were very helpful." "Yes. And tomorrow night, we can look at Jenna ourselves and see just how bad her 'simpleness' really is," LaCroix sipped from his glass and stared at Rajah consideringly. "And what if she is simple?" "The vampire element can fix such problems can't it?" "Only if it is a chemical deficiency. If the damage is physical, then it will depend upon the extent of it." Rajah rested his face in his hands. "Then I will cross that bridge when I come to it. In the meantime, I need Aristotle to find me a female melanistic leopard." LaCroix raised a pale brow inquiringly. "They're not going to stop looking until they find one. At this point, in this country, one melanistic leopard is as good as another." LaCroix laughed softly. "All cats are grey in the dark hmm?" Rajah smiled crookedly. "They are to humans." ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Nick yawned and made himself comfortable on the couch. So far, there had been no word on the leopard hunt. There was nothing to do there but wait… He tried to remember if there was anything else that he had to do before he fell asleep, but couldn't think of anything. He had put out an APB on the two security guards and requested additional information on Cody Daniels - although it was pointless since he was already dead. He'd also asked for Jenna Lemieux's history to be traced from what little she had provided, even if it was twelve or thirteen years out of date. He rolled onto his side and slept, dreaming of sunlight that didn't burn and passion that didn't inspire bloodlust…where fathers offered their blessings to their sons' love, not threats. ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Chapter 5 Eric Crane surreptitiously poured vodka into his coffee mug from a small silver flask that he had stolen from his father. He sipped at the bitter brew and stared vacantly ahead, ignoring the seedy diner that he and Warren had settled themselves in for the evening. In his mind's eye, over and over again, visions of an evil eyed leopard glowered at him as it licked Cody's blood from its paws Eric groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Why?…Why had they decided to do their rounds after Warren had changed in the locker room? He pressed the heels of his palms against his burning eyes…Maybe if they hadn't stopped to torment the Institution monkeys they could have heard something…done something…to save Cody and that kid. Or had it even been real? He didn't know what to believe. He didn't know what he had seen. And Warren…He looked up at his friend who was passed out, face on the table, mouth hanging open and a puddle of drool forming beneath his chin. Warren was no help. Had it been real? Or had it been just a bad trip? He and Warren had returned to the holding room after making their rounds and had frozen in the doorway at the sight of the carnage spread out before them. Cody had been very dead, his head at an awkward angle and blood surrounding him like a miniature lake. Beyond Cody had been a little girl, oozing red though her little dress, her thumb in her mouth as she blankly stared at what was going on next to her. All that had been fine. No worse than any of the gory horror movies he and Warren liked. What had been terrifying was what the little girl's glassy gaze had been focused on. Within arm's reach of that helpless bleeding child, the leopard had crouched, groaning and coughing like cats do with a hairball. It had convulsed and he had seen something pressing against the skin…something inside was straining to get out. One black paw had elongated, separating out into five distinct fingers, then the fur had split, a smooth white hand explosively erupting from the leopard's flesh. Fuck! The beast had looked up at the sound. Its pale green eyes had focused on them and Eric realized it hated him, and that it would remember what he had done to it. He had lost his bladder right there. He was sure of it. Then he had slammed the door shut and run, not caring if Warren was right behind him or not. They had run through the hallway to a side door and from there to their beat up old truck. Eric lifted his cup and swallowed another mouthful of the cold bitter brew. He had taunted some sort of were-leopard. He had shot rubber bands at a supernatural creature. Would it want revenge? Would it come after him the way werewolves in the movies went after people they hated? It was horrifying and impossible that such a creature existed, and yet it did. Didn't it? Did the leopard really escape and kill Cody? Was there really a bloody little girl in the room? Or was it all just the pot? Warren didn't seem overly upset by the thought of a supernatural creature. If he was, he wouldn't be asleep. How could he sleep?! Every time Eric blinked he saw blood, green eyes and a paw that was half human reaching out toward him. The shrill sound of his watch alarm caught his attention and he absently took a pill from the bottle in his jacket pocket. If they changed from leopard to human, how could you tell them apart from normal people? How many of them were there? "You want some more coffee?" He looked up at the waitress and gasped at the sight of her eyes. They were green like fresh leaves; cat green. He stood up clumsily, knocking his mug to the tile floor where it shattered. The waitress glared at him. "You're gonna clean that up!" she snarled. Eric backed away as she blinked and her iris shifted abnormally in her eye. "Come back here." He continued to back away, tripping over chairs as he headed toward the front door. "Where do you think you're going, you little pissant? You and your buddy here hole up for twelve hours, drink nothing but coffee, don't order no food and then you smash a cup on the clean floor? You're gonna clean it up." "S-ss-stay away from me," he stammered. He could see her sharp teeth every time she snarled at him. She kept coming. "Stay away!" He slammed the door open, running blindly into the street. He was too terrified to hear the screech of the tires, or to feel his body slam into the concrete, as he was crushed beneath the moving vehicle. ----- ------ ------ ------ ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Elizabeth Lemieux turned off the TV, uninterested in the afternoon's news. All that they were reporting was bad weather and the ongoing search for an escaped leopard in Toronto. She sighed and leaned back against the sofa cushions, staring resentfully at the stack of test papers on the coffee table. She was a field anthropologist, experienced in the documentation and observation of aboriginal Indian tribes of South America, yet she was condemned to the quiet hell of a classroom filled with students who took her class to fill a general ed. requirement. She should just slap a C on all of them, pass the little bastards and get them out of her life. But, what would be the point? Next semester, there would just be another batch of the kids, same kids, different faces. She sighed again and stretched forward from her cross-legged position to get it over with. She winced as her knee rocked against something hard between the cushions of the couch. She dug it out and stared into the beady eyes of a fuzzy toy mouse, silent testament to the life that had so recently dominated the house. Her fingers closed over the small body and she wept silently. Two weeks ago, the ancient Siamese had died, taking with her their last physical link with something that had been their missing baby's. The disdainful feline had belonged to their little girl from the first moment Jenna had picked up the reigning prima donna of the pet store and rubbed faces with her. Murasaki had tolerated Elizabeth and Jared, permitting them to pet her. Though in later years she had slept with them at the foot of their bed, she had never sprawled across their laps with the sensual abandon that she had displayed with Jenna. She had slept in Jenna's room for as long as they had kept it furnished, hoping against hope - even as they did, that the delight of her feline heart would return. Elizabeth had hoped for years, waiting in vain to hear word, good or bad of what had happened to her baby. Just to end the not knowing. Several years after it had happened, Jared had wanted to adopt again, but Elizabeth wouldn't hear of it. How could they when they had taken such poor care of their first baby? And what would Jenna say if she ever came home and found that they had replaced her, like she was a lost shoe. The phone rang and she ignored it. She was too depressed to talk to anyone. The answering machine picked up. "Elizabeth and Jared Lemieux? This is Detective Rogan in Toronto." She frowned in puzzlement. What would a Toronto police officer want with them? "Please give me a call. It's very important. My num-" She picked up the phone. "What can I do for you Detective?" "Mrs. Lemieux?" "Yeah." She stood up from the couch and paced over to the livingroom window. She glanced at her watch: Jared should be home soon. "We have a young woman here who claims that she's your daughter." Elizabeth dropped the toy mouse and clutched the phone receiver to her ear desperately. "What did you say?" "We have a young woman here, about eighteen or nineteen years old who says that she's your daughter Jenna Lemieux." "My daughter disappeared in South America," she protested faintly, afraid to believe. "Yeah. She gave us the address. Number 265 Water Towers, Beliz, South America. She also gave your address for Montreal…Look, I understand. It's been twelve years, you've got no way to identify her for certain, and the chances of it being her are very slim. Even if it were her, she'd be eighteen, nineteen years old. Legally an adult-" "We'll be on a plane tonight," she informed him firmly. "Tell me everything I need to know." She jotted notes down as he spoke, listing the hospital name, the names of the Detectives in charge and their precinct. She was booking plane tickets to Toronto when Jared arrived home. He listened as she made the arrangements, paying extra for the short notice, and immediately slapping the hefty fee onto their already bulging Visa. "What is it?" he asked, noting her tear-streaked cheeks. "They found her," she exclaimed on a sob, hugging him. "She's in Toronto." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Soft earth tickled between her fingers and toes as she crawled along the ground. Heavy foliage blocked her path, but she pushed through it face first, unconcerned with the feel of it brushing against her cheeks and forehead. She inhaled, smelling the air that blew toward her and the scents that it carried. Dinner was that way. Far above her came the sound of high pitched screeching. She ignored it; it was commonplace. Long moments passed as she moved closer. Then she spied it. It was unaware of her presence, young and stupid. She sprang upon its back and it squealed in distress, spinning about to throw her off. She clutched it with her sharp claws and bit its head. It collapsed and was still as the metallic liquid flooded her mouth. Jenna sat up with a gasp and looked around her. Four walls, two beds and one TV presently on a cartoon channel. She stared at the TV, at the animated Batman who grappled with an upright leopard while Catwoman and a man in a white lab coat looked on. "Look honey," Katie's mother pointed to the screen. "See what the evil scientist did, crossing human DNA with leopard DNA?" The metallic taste was still fresh in her mouth and Jenna lurched up from the bed, running into the bathroom, gagging from the memory of blood that flowed more plentiful than rivers. She slammed the door shut behind her and knelt at the porcelain bowl. Katie stared at the closed bathroom door and whimpered in distress. Amanda Tonson stroked her daughter's cheek. "Easy sweetie, Mommy's right here." Katie ignored her mother and the IV drip in her arm and tried to sit up, to follow after her protector. "It's okay baby. I'm here." Katie squealed in distress as her mother attempted to push her gently back into a supine position. Amanda gritted her teeth against her daughter's anxiety and held her still, trying to prevent her from yanking out her IV needle or doing further damage to her cracked ribs. "Stop it, Katie. Stop it! She's in the bathroom, she'll be out soon." Katie kicked out, threw her covers to the floor, and screamed. Two nurses burst into the room and quickly joined Amanda's struggle to control her hysterical daughter. "Where's the other girl?" One of the white uniformed women demanded. "She's in the bathroom," Amanda gasped, pressing her daughter firmly to the mattress. "Easy Katie. Everything's okay." The nurse who had spoke jerked her chin toward the bathroom door, signaling the other woman to get other girl out where Katie could see her. Jenna rinsed out her mouth, ignoring the commotion outside. Her vision was clouded by images of green and smells of fresh vegetation. Someone pounded on the door and Jenna reluctantly opened it to the scowling woman outside. The nurse grasped Jenna's wrist and pulled her into Katie's line of sight. "See, she's right here! See?" The answer was silence and the reward, acquiescence to the physical demands of both Amanda and the other nurse. Amanda sighed and stared helplessly up at the woman who had assisted her, vaguely registering the name Carol Benten. "This can't continue," she whispered in shock. Carol lightly touched the distraught mother's shoulder. "Believe me, it's better that she's fighting. Some of them disappear into their minds and never come back again. She's just going to need some time to feel safe in everyday situations. She's been badly shocked and betrayed in a way she never expected an adult to do to her. "I'm her mother! She should be turning to me for protection, not same strange retard." Carol nodded a sharp dismissal to the other nurse and focused on the selfish woman. "I understand your concern Mrs. Tonson, but right now your feelings aren't the ones that are important here," she stated sharply. "Katie's are. And if the only way to keep Katie quiet and comfortable is to have Jenna Lemieux in the same room, then that's what will be done." Amanda stared into the hard brown gaze of the nurse and tilted her head defiantly. "We'll see what the doctor thinks." "That's fine, Mrs. Tonson, but in the mean time, things will stay as they are for your daughter's welfare. If the doctor decides otherwise, then of course we will remove Jenna immediately." Carol turned to leave but paused to deliver a scathing observation. "If you cared more for your daughter's welfare than getting your way, you'd realize that the 'retard' saved your daughter's life and is probably the only thing keeping her from going catatonic." Carol stalked out of the room, more than a little disgusted with the woman. Amanda Tonson was too self-absorbed to realize that the other woman had probably suffered brain damage while rescuing her child. Amanda Tonson glowered at the young woman in the bathroom doorway, quietly hating her because Katie needed her more. She'd been grateful at first that a stranger had risked so much for her daughter by carrying her to safety, but the gratitude had slowly faded when all her attempts to comfort Katie were shunted aside in favor of the bruised brunette. She bit her lip and stared back and forth from Katie to Jenna. Katie was sucking her thumb and watching Jenna with a frightening intensity. Jenna stood still and watched with pale green eyes that held a child-like confusion. Making her decision, she stood up and went out into the hall to find the doctor. Jenna watched the older woman leave and wrinkled her nose as the scent of her wafted to her sensitive nose; Amanda reeked of perfume and another distasteful scent that Jenna could only identify as unpleasant. She looked at Katie, who was ignoring the flashing images of the TV in favor of staring at her. Jenna shuddered. The child's neediness made her feel closed in and trapped…She wanted to be alone to think but Katie made solitude impossible. Not that she blamed her in any way, it was just that she needed to think too. She wanted to go somewhere where people didn't look at her as though she were a freak, where they wouldn't talk about her as if she were too stupid to understand what they were saying. The dark haired girl walked over to the little blonde on the bed and knelt next to her. She peered deeply into Katie's soft brown irises and lightly touched her arm. "Katie, I really need to be by myself for a little while. Do you understand?" Katie's eyes widened and she grasped hold of her rescuer's hand to restrain her from leaving. "I'm not really going to go anywhere," Jenna reassured her earnestly. "I'm just going to be in the bathroom for awhile, okay? There's no other door out of there, no window, the only way to leave is through here. You'll see me. Okay?" Katie pulled her thumb from her mouth and began to speak, but nothing came out. Jenna patted her hand. "I'm hurt too," she explained, capturing Katie's wet hand and placing it to her bruised and swollen cheek. "And I'm scared. I feel like Rip Van Winkle. I fell asleep and everything is different…especially me. I'm all wrong, Katie. I'm not me anymore. And not just on the outside. On the inside too. I feel like something changed me and I have to understand how and why. Do you understand?" Katie pulled her hand free from Jenna's gentle clasp and stroked her fingers through the tangled, shoulder length hair that cascaded over Jenna's shoulders. Jenna stood up, pulling away from the little girl and walked over to the open bathroom door. "I'm just going to be in here okay? I'm different and I need to look in the mirror to see how, okay?" Katie frowned and slowly put her thumb back into her mouth. "I'm right here. One call and I'll be right out…okay?" Long minutes passed and at last, Katie nodded. Jenna released a slow sigh of relief. "You've got your bear," she gestured to the chocolate brown stuffed animal. "You'll be okay won't you?" Katie nodded again. Jenna tilted her head and studied Katie's expression and then cautiously entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Katie frowned and let out a loud whimper. The door swung open immediately and Jenna poked her head out, looking around warily. Katie nodded in satisfaction and Jenna narrowed her eyes assessingly. "You were testing me weren't you?" Katie nodded. "Satisfied?" she asked, still watchful. Katie nodded. Warily Jenna closed the door again. Satisfied that her protector was not far off, Katie turned her attention to the long neglected TV. Two cartoon rabbits were stating that they were not related. ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- "Rise and shine, sleepy head." Nick frowned thoughtfully, the familiar voice penetrating his sleep-fogged brain. "Hey, sleeping beauty," the voice persisted "the one on the couch, wakey wakey." Nick blearily opened one blue eye and looked up into Natalie's cheerful countenance. He groaned at the artificial light that flooded the room, disturbing his dark cradle of sleep. "Ahh," she crooned in sympathy. "Need some help waking up?" She bent over the back of the couch solicitously and kissed her drowsy knight's forehead. She allowed her lips to linger for a moment, an unnoticeable eternity, that allowed her to enjoy his cool flesh beneath her lips…to enjoy the scent of him. The golden locks of his hair brushed her eyelids all too briefly and she pulled back, the moment passing. She again wore the friendly face, hiding the longing in her heart. Nick opened the other eye and smiled up at her from his supine position. "Sleeping Beauty got kissed on the lips," he complained good-naturedly. Natalie folded her hands across the back of the couch and rested her chin on her knuckles. "Men are so forward." She deflected the protest with a smile, knowing that if she touched her lips to his, he would know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, her intentions toward him. Although strictly honorable, they were no longer strictly platonic. "Going to get up?" "If I say no, will you be quiet?" "No." "Then I'm getting up." He sat up and rubbed his face. "What time is it, milady torturer?" "Almost five. You're sleeping awfully late. Tired or just having sweet dreams?" He smiled secretively as he looked into her lapis eyes. "Is this business or pleasure?" "Strictly pleasure," she averred. "I thought we'd have breakfast together." Nick raised his brows in surprised consternation. "Do I dare hope that the breakfast that you intend for me will be as appetizing as the one you intend for yourself?" he groused as he swung his bare feet to the floor. "Oh ye of little faith," she returned. "You wound me to think that I would enjoy watching you suffer." "If the scalpel fits…" "Get up stairs and take your shower." He smiled and willingly obeyed, content that the subject of dreams had been forgotten and that they were going to do something as mortal as to have breakfast together. Even if it was a nasty protein shake. She watched him go up the stairs, smiling at the sight of his pale feet and neat long toes. A woman had it bad when she caught herself admiring a man's toes. She shook her head and resigned herself to her fate. She puttered around his mostly barren kitchen, pulling out the single service of dishware she had brought over and left. From an otherwise empty drawer, she removed the one fork left over from a package of plastic picnic silverware. She would have to remind herself to bring some more by; it wasn't as if Nick would remember…he didn't use silverware. From a paper bag she pulled out a pot of jonquils she had picked up at the store on an impulse. She set the potted plant down in the center of the kitchen table, admiring the gently nodding flowers. They looked like little suns with their four petals stretched out like rays. Nice, she decided. Intimate without being obvious. She set an antique wine goblet next to the Tupperware container holding Nick's much-hated foe, the protein shake. For herself, she set out the single plate and dropped the muffin on it. For her V8, she made do with her 'Natalie's Cup' coffee mug. A second wine goblet would certainly have added to the romantic setting, but with Nick's glasses, few as they were, there was no telling which had been christened with bovine plasma. The rim of a glass that had contained blood would not touch her lips. Nick paused at the top of the stairs, enjoying the normality of it all. The intimacy. He grimaced in resignation at the sight of the shake and silently padded down the stairs to join her. He paused as he noticed the little potted plant and the delicate yellow blooms that dipped agreeably to each other. Jonquils. Did she know what they meant? In the Victorian Era, messages were passed back and forth amongst the nobility, with each flower having it's own meaning. It had been a clandestine way for many to plan trysts. And not obvious to everyone, as the flower language was complex. Jonquils. I desire a return of my affections. Can you love me? No. She couldn't know. The language of flowers was long since over. It was as dead as Latin. "Mmmm," he intoned with a dubious look at the sludge. "My favorite. I knew you were a torturer." Natalie gestured him to a seat but Nick, being Nick, pulled a chair out for her before seating himself in front of the concoction. "Don't feel so sorry for yourself," she laughed teasingly. "It's good for you." "You're not having something that tastes bad for breakfast," he retorted dryly. "Actually I am. I thought you'd feel better if we both sat here and ate something that tastes absolutely terrible and is utterly nutritious." Curious, he looked at the innocent mushroom shaped bread sitting in front of her and the appealingly red liquid in her glass. "And what are you having?" "One raisin bran muffin," she wrinkled her nose in displeasure. "And one can of tomato juice." That one was punctuated by a moue of disgust. "You're eating food you hate for me?" he questioned in surprise. "I didn't want you to feel alone." He smiled, determined to finish the wretched drink down to its last distasteful dregs. "I like the plant. It's like having my own private sun." She smiled, disguising her disappointment. It had only been a silly historical romance book. Authors could take liberties. The Language of Flowers didn't have to be real. And even if it were, Nick didn't necessarily have to know it. Can you return my love? "I'm glad you like it." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ Jenna listened carefully against the door for any further tests from Katie. Moments passed and there was only silence. Satisfied that Katie trusted her to keep her word, Jenna locked the door and stared into the full-length mirror that was attached to it. She was so tall. She held her hand up for study, the sharply defined bones and long, slender fingers nothing like the pudgy little digits she remembered. The little dimples that had marked where her knuckles had been were gone. They were large hands. She looked down at her legs. They were twice as long as she remembered. She sat on the floor and pulled up the baggy pant leg of the polka dotted hospital pajama. She stared at the sleek musculature of thigh and calf and then ran her finger tips lightly over her knee; the little bumpy calluses from crawling about in the sand box were gone, as if they had never been. She crossed her legs Indian style and leaned close to the mirror, peering at the features that were hers and yet not hers. She recognized herself in the face that stared back, but the roundness of her cheeks was gone. Her face was oval, like her mother's. The heavy bruising and swollen flesh of her left cheek, enhanced by the dark purple marred the symmetry of her cheekbones and blue that colored her otherwise pale flesh. She bared her teeth; even they were larger and appeared stronger. She pressed her forehead against the glass and half closed her eyes. In the reflection, she could see the throb of the pulse at her neck…see the sharp points of her collarbone…and beneath that, an adult swell filling out her pajama top in a way that she never had before. She was a grown up. She was a baby bird all grown up now…but she didn't remember how to fly. Jenna pulled back from the mirror and stared hard at the bruise that covered nearly all of the left side of her head. She gently pressed against her temple and the back of her skull for tenderness. Perhaps she had amnesia like the people in the movies…Did she have to get hit in the head again to remember? If so, would it have to be as hard as the first time? She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember getting taller, tried to remember anything to account for the changes in the mirror, but all she remembered was playing in the sand box with Maria. She remembered going over to the bushes to pick some leaves to decorate their sandcastle with and then-she opened her eyes, trembling. Whatever came after was bad. Pain. Fear. Hot. Green. She shook herself free of the disjointed memories and stood up. She stared resolutely into the mirror at the pale green eyes that stared back at her. She was a grown up now. She would have to remember to grow up inside. She wasn't stupid and she wasn't retarded. She just didn't remember. ---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Amanda walked slowly down the hall next to the middle-aged man. "So you see, Doctor Ross, although Jenna is good for keeping Katie docile and easy for the hospital staff to work with, it's really just a crutch for Katie. She has to rely on her own strength, so that this tragedy doesn't cripple her. And how can she do that if we leave 'Jenna-the-crutch' within easy reach?" Dr. Ross stopped in his tracks and peered at her woman over his glasses. "And if we take away Jenna, on the premise that Katie must deal with this herself, does that exclude you from offering your comfort and aid?" Amanda smiled charmingly. "I'm her mother," she replied encompassingly. "What you are is a selfish, shallow woman more concerned with her ego and vanity than with the mental health and physical well-being of her six-year -old daughter. Jenna will stay with Katie for as long as both of them are under my care. When Katie is discharged, you, of course, may do as you see fit." His piercing gaze made her feel even more resentful. "And, madam, if you see fit to attempt to discharge your daughter before she is ready, I'll have you brought up on charges of reckless endangerment. Do we understand each other?" Amanda gritted her teeth and jerkily nodded her head. Dr. Ross studied her and continued, sounding more compassionate. "I understand that since your divorce you have probably been relying on Jenna as the sole focus of your life. And to have her turn to another for comfort when you have made her your whole world is likely deeply painful to you. But, Mrs. Tonson, Jenna and Katie have gone though something terrible together…they can share it without having to speak of it. Because Jenna risked so much for your daughter, Katie sees her as a protector. She will continue to turn to her primary protector as long as she feels vulnerable and in danger. There is no telling how long that will take. It will take as long as it does. Just deal with it Mrs. Tonson." He turned and continued down the hall without her. Amanda simmered with a mixture of guilt and bitterness She bitterly blamed Jack and his negligence. It was all his fault! Why had he ever left Katie alone? ----- ------ ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ------ Natalie grinned slightly, watching Nick take a swallow of his shake. He grimaced comically. Okay, so the taste wasn't that great. But he was getting better at drinking it. She was certain that if she tried to get a glass of green tea down him now that he wouldn't make that "nasty, nasty, poison!" little boy face and race to the sink anymore. Much progress had been made over the last few years. She cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. He actually looked much more human. When they had first met, self-loathing and menace had radiated from him in palpable waves. Now, his skin had a bit more color to it, his heart beat was up to one every nine minutes instead of one every ten and his body temperature was up a few degrees. It was no where near the human norm, but neither was it completely vampire. It was slow progress, but it was progress…and he looked…easier. Not as much a predator…A tame lion. She smiled ironically at the thought. Nick mock glowered at his tormentor. "What?" He asked, puzzled by her pensive gaze. "Nothing," she replied softly, relieved and a little annoyed that he could never see and understand the tenderness of her regard. She had never realized that men could be so obtuse. Perhaps it was just medieval men. And for the time being, perhaps it was just as well that their relationship remained platonic. To confront him now about the depth of her feelings for him would mean dealing with all aspects of Nick's passions. She knew enough about his nature now to realize that desire and bloodlust were intricately combined. There could be no first without the second, though contrary enough, there could be a second without the first. How contradictory. Oddly, the intimacy of blood intrigued her, the thought of knowing that her life force could sustain his. Her essence and vitality would be a part of him. When vampires drank, the blood became a part of them, not in veins or capillaries but in their supernatural hearts. All that she was, was in her blood…in her DNA…would he be able to taste her love? What would love taste like? She stared at him, her gaze dropping to his sensual lips. Her body tingled in awareness, as it did so often in his presence. In that brief moment she could feel his touch. Cool flesh to warm, silken skinned strength to her curves…his weight settling naturally against her. Her eyes half closed as she felt his breath against her cheek…her ear…her throat…His mouth settled against her throbbing pulse, measuring the rhythm of her desire…every cadence of her heart, throbbed ever so softly against his sensitive lips in a primal caress. "Nat? What are you thinking?" She blinked, her reverie broken by the sound of his voice. She flushed as she met his blue gaze. Natalie dropped her eyes to the table, blushing in embarrassment. "Nothing." He studied her pursed lips and the becoming flush to her cheeks, inhaling unobtrusively. The air smelled of jonquils, of the tomato juice and the fragrance he had bought her. And beneath all that was Natalie; spiced pears, roses and warm desire…and her heart beat fluttering wildly. Carnal hunger arced through him. He ached to hold her against him, to release them both from the endless torment of their longing. The phone rang shrilly, startling them both as their peace was broken. Relieved at the interruption, Natalie watched as Nick rose from the table walked across the room. Her eyes tracked musculature beneath his taut black jeans then, realizing that she was leering, she turned back around to face the table. She pressed her fingers against her warm cheeks and mentally recited the bones of the body…Bones…bones…femur…tibia…pelvic…I want to jump his bones. She groaned and ruthlessly pinched herself on the arm, distracting herself from that train of thought. "Knight." She glanced over her shoulder to find him watching her intently. Apparently whatever he heard distracted him. A troubled one replaced the intent look. Natalie turned back to the table, breathing deeply to slow her fluttering heart. She contemplated the remaining quantity of tomato juice in her glass as she listened to the soft tones of Nick's voice. The glass was still full of the repulsive fluid. She looked speculatively at the innocent potted plant. Her fingers curled around the smooth glass and she contemplated her choices; she could drink the nasty stuff or…she could take the chance of killing Nick's little potted sun. "Don't even think about it," he whispered against her ear, enjoying both her gasp of startlement and the determinedly innocent expression she turned up to him. "What?" He didn't answer, just looked at her warningly as he sat back down across from her. "So," she said conversationally, changing her train of thought away from botanical homicide. "Who was on the phone?" "Vachon." "Tracy's Vachon?" He smiled in teasing amusement. "I'm not sure that he…or she for that matter…- would care for the possessive pronoun." She scowled in mock threat. "And what did Tracy's Vachon want?" "Personal pronouns to identify a vampire," he mused, tormenting her mercilessly. "Natalie's Nick. Tracy's Vachon. Archaic, but I kind of like…" "Nick," she growled warningly. "What did Vachon want?" The humor dropped away, replaced by the expression of troubled distress. "He was letting me know that there are Enforcers in town." She was still for a long moment and then asked calmly. "Are we in trouble?" Nick frowned. "Maybe. He didn't have anything specific, only that a friend of his had seen an Enforcer talking with LaCroix." "LaCroix could be the one in trouble," she suggested hopefully. "It's possible, but not likely. If they were talking with LaCroix and Vachon's friend was warned away, the odds are it's LaCroix or somebody of his bloodline…I'm the only one in town." She studied his slightly frightened expression, then reached out and clasped his cool fingers in her warm grip. It was rare that he allowed her any view into the darker, more frightening aspects of his society. This glimpse, bad news though it might be, was still a treasured trust. He picked up his protein shake and stared down into the thick substance. A moment later he looked challengingly into her face. "We can finish together or we can dump together. Which will it be?" She stared at the drink in his hand and took a deep resigned breath. He had to finish it. Nick watched in amazement as she pinched her nose shut and quickly swallowed the last of her tomato juice. She set the glass back down to the table with a loud clink and looked at him challengingly. The expression was marred by the disgusted wrinkling of her forehead. "Does that work?" he asked interestedly. "Physically, probably not. Psychologically, yes." He'd try anything once. She watched as he did the same, his brow crinkling with concentrated disgust as he gulped the nutritious sludge down. Natalie cocked her head to the side curiously. "Did it work?" "Physically no, psychologically, no." "You're just out of practice." He glared at her. "And you're just a bossy pathologist." She stuck her tongue out at him. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Chapter 6 LaCroix entered the office and set his goblet of blood on the desk. His son was sleeping quite peacefully. His feet rested atop the burnished antique wood as he leaned far back in the leather office chair. The telephone rested in his lap and one hand was wrapped around the receiver. LaCroix smiled fondly; really they always looked so innocent and harmless in sleep. Hardly a bit like the ruthless predators that he had trained them to be. He scooped his son's booted feet off the desk and dropped them jarringly to the floor. Rajah gasped and snapped awake, the phone clattering against his chest. "Comfortable?" LaCroix queried. It never did any good letting the children know that they could abuse your things without consequences. Consistency in discipline was the hallmark of a happy family. "Uhh," Rajah sputtered weakly. "Yes?" "Hmmm." His offspring winced at the forbidding tone, then looked guiltily at the antique desk. "Any news from Aristotle?" LaCroix continued motioning his child from the chair. Rajah shook his head and rose from the expensive leather chair that had cradled him like a child, stretching luxuriously. "Not yet. I may be the first person to have ever stumped him." The young vampire grinned in delighted amusement, baring several of his sharp white teeth. "Apparently no one's ever requested a female melanistic leopard, much less wanted delivery within twenty-four hours." "The challenge of it will be good for him…keep him on his toes," LaCroix observed in a bland tone. The olive skinned vampire chuckled again. "You are a true tyrant, Father. If you will excuse me, I shall go help myself to some dinner." LaCroix sat in the recently vacated chair, already more concerned with the evening's broadcast. It would have to be recorded ahead of time if he wanted to continue to assist Rajah. "Don't eat me out of house and home." "No promises." LaCroix smiled in amusement as impending doom headed toward his bloodstock. "Rajah…Leave the phone." Rajah looked down, seemingly startled to find the telephone still clutched to his chest. He settled it carefully on the desk and exited the sound booth with a weak grin. LaCroix chuckled softly to himself. He set up two tape spools to record and turned on the microphone. He was part way through his planned monologue when Aristotle called. "Hello old friend," LaCroix greeted him courteously. "What news do you have for us?" "Nothing good," Aristotle returned in a disgruntled tone. "The best I can do is a melanistic female that died in quarantine at 3:30 this morning in New York. I can get the body to you in six hours and all previous records of her shall disappear. I can get nothing living." "The body is fine. Ship it immediately. Give your pilot a cell phone and have him page me when he arrives. Can he do it without a flight schedule or landing clearance?" "Yes." "Excellent. The pager number is 648-272-9537. Have him leave immediately." "And the manner of payment?" LaCroix pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shrugged. It was modest enough a gift for a Childe. "Put it on my account." He broke the connection and considered his nearly finished commentary. Considering the new development and the fact that Toronto's finest would no longer find a living cat, he must make the public so grateful for a dead one that few questions would be asked. He rewound the tape and began again, adding a bit more bite to the show. Then he added a song to round out his selection. Not one of his best productions, but when one was in a hurry, one simply had to make do. ---- ----- ------ ------ ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Nick entered the precinct and walked toward his desk. He did not have a good feeling tonight, but he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason why. It was just a feeling…an instinct. Knowledge of the Enforcers had made him more than a little nervous. Tracy was hunched over her desk, industriously scanning through a stack of files in front of her. "Evening Nick," she acknowledged without looking up from her work. He leaned to read over her shoulder. "Any word yet on the leopard hunt?" "Yeah. They haven't got her yet." He grimaced, not looking forward to the possibility of another grisly killing. At least after the Daniels case was closed, Homicide wouldn't be responsible for investigating any further incidents. "Interesting reading?" Tracy dropped the file and looked up at him with a tired smile. "Depends on your tastes. If you like corruption, drugs and mysterious disappearances, this is great stuff. If not," she wrinkled her nose in distaste and didn't continue. "So, tell me what you've got?" Tracy sighed. "Right. Cody Daniels has an arrest record a mile long, with charges of felony assault, kidnapping, felony molest and murder. In all six situations, the charges were dismissed because of lack of evidence or a search warrant wasn't signed on the correct dotted line. All of the missing were children under the age of ten. These all happened between 1983 and 1993. He's been clean the last five years …Probably just got better at covering up," she concluded dismally. Nick remembered Natalie's comment of "never knowing". He felt sorry for the parents that would probably never know for certain what had happened to their children. "Maybe we can find something if we search his place," he commented, knowing that whatever evidence, if there had been any, would have been unearthed in previous searches. Tracy smiled mirthlessly. "Yeah, maybe." She continued, "Eric Crane and Warren Black have arrest records for possession. Eric was picked up three times, Warren four. By the way, while you were incommunicado today, Eric died in a car accident. Witnesses state that he was having some sort of psychotic episode and backed into the path of a moving car. Tox screening on him revealed alcohol, marijuana and antidepressants. Not a good mix." "And Warren?" "Warren had the good manners to be passed out at the diner when the paramedics and police arrived on scene. He's in the tank, waiting for another round of questioning. So far, we're holding him on accessory to reckless endangerment, since his are the other finger prints on the ring of keys." She frowned thoughtfully. "We've got a confession that he and Eric were smoking it up and baiting the cat but he denies that they let it out. Claims he and Black went into the locker room so Warren could change into some coveralls after spilling coffee on himself. They did their rounds and when they came back, they saw the leopard loose, and fled the scene." Nick studied her troubled frown. "And?" "And nothing. That's all he stated." "No. And what do you think?" She looked up at him. "I think he's holding something back. They saw something. It may just be guilt that they didn't help the little girl, but I really think they saw something more." Nick nodded; a little vampiric whammy and that was easy enough to confirm. "So, you've covered corruption and drugs, what about mysterious disappearances?" "Jenna Lemieux was originally Genevieve Singh. Biological parents were circus performers…they worked with big cats. They were killed in a train wreck when she was three. She was adopted less than a year later by Jared and Elizabeth Lemieux, natives of Montreal Canada. When she was five, they moved to South America for professional reasons. Elizabeth Lemieux was actually a doctor of anthropology, specializing in aboriginal tribes, and Jared was an engineer who worked on river dams. They stayed in the country on work Visas. Seven months after the move, when she was six years old, Jenna disappeared from their condo's secured playground. After an exhaustive search and a great deal of public outcry…during which Jenna was never found…the Lemieux's WORK VISAS were revoked and they were deported." Tracy smiled at Nick's incredulous expression. "There has been no sign of Jenna Lemieux until last night, twelve years and eight months after her disappearance." Nick pursed his lips. "Obviously Miss Lemieux and I need to have another talk. We seem to be missing some pertinent details, like where she's been all this time and how she got out of South America." Tracy shrugged one shoulder. "If she can't remember, she can't remember. There's more." "More?" "Her parents were still living at the address in Montreal. They'll be in tonight on a ten o'clock flight." "You've been busy." "Keeps me too busy to think about other things," she commented sadly. Nick was silent for a few moments then leaned forward earnestly. "I'm sure she's okay Tracy. Perry was a terrible loss. And on top of her illness…Just give her time." Tracy smiled weakly, trying to rally her normally cheerful self. "I can give her time, Nick. I just don't know if she's got it to spare." Nick floundered weakly for a response to her depression, then finally decided on humor. He stood up and went around to conscientiously pull Tracy to her feet. He put an arm around her shoulder in friendly camaraderie. "Come on," he cajoled solicitously. "Let's go question Warren again. I'm sure after some good cop/bad cop you'll feel just like your old self." She giggled and let herself be persuaded. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ----- ----- ------ Natalie sat in the oppressive silence of her office, cursing it as a mixed blessing. The lack of bodies was wonderful, the deafening silence of a graveyard shift with nothing to do…was not. She glared at her desk and at the stack of paperwork waiting that she no longer had an excuse to avoid. Sighing in resignation, she gave in and headed toward her desk. She plunked herself down in her seat and turned on the radio, desperate to find something to distract her from her impending doom. She twisted the dial: static…static…Spanish…rap…country…radio shrink…You and Your Spleen…and CERK…Nightcrawler territory. She stopped twisting the dial and turned up the volume. She didn't know why she was periodically drawn to him; his morbid and cynical viewpoint on life and emotions was nothing less than depressing. It was similar to rubbernecking while driving by an accident; hoping everyone was all right, but wondering how many were carried away in body bags Nick had done this to her. She never would have listened to the creepy bastard if not for him. It was Nick's favorite self-torture session, not hers, but for good or ill, she listened. Besides, he was Nick's Sire and it gave her an added perspective to the psychological torture that had been inflicted upon her Knight in tarnished armor over the centuries. She frowned slightly as the commentator announced a special early broadcast of the Nightcrawler coming up. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out her micro cassette recorder and a blank tape. She absently loaded the fresh cassette, then paused as she realized what she was doing. She was recording his torture session for him, just in case he missed it. She dropped the recorder to the desk and put her face into her hands. "I've got it bad, and that ain't good," she sang softly, laughing at herself. How had this happened to her? They had started as doctor and patient, become friends, best friends and now she was in that most pitiable position of unrequited love. She wanted him. Human, vampire, she wanted Nick Knight in her life and in her bed. She wanted his voice in her ear, his body in her arms and his lips and hands whereever the hell he wanted to put them. She groaned. How could she do this to herself? They were just friends. "This sucks," she growled softly and picked up the micro cassette recorder again. She depressed the record button, muttering, "I should probably be listening to that damn radio shrink instead." "Bonne nuit mes enfants," his whispery voice purred over the air. "I see that our little lost lamb has not yet come home. Well, no matter. I'm sure the police are diligently searching for her right now, just as they have been for the last twenty-four hours. I'm sure they'll find her any moment now. After all, how long can a dumb animal evade Toronto's finest? How long can she hide and live in a thriving metropolis? How long before this jungle cat submits to the unfamiliar elements and lays down to die? The unfamiliar ice and the cold taking the fight out of her… "And yet…Did you know that leopards have been observed on the snow line of Mount Kenya? Perhaps snow doesn't bother them after all. "The adaptability and cunning of the leopard is its greatest strength. Look at our own Yaguara, surviving in a rain forest she is not native to, surrounded by other cats both larger and indigenous to their habitat. But for one idiosyncrasy in her feline psyche, it is likely that she never would have been caught. "And did you know," he continued informatively, " that in Asian and African cities, leopards live undetected in the suburbs, picking off house hold pets for food? In Nepal, one even hid in a woodpile for an entire day surrounded by the bustle of daily village life and no one - not even the dogs, were the wiser. "Indeed, my children, how long can she hide?" Natalie glared at the radio. From his ironic tone, it sounded like she could hide forever. Maybe You and Your Spleen would've been more pleasant. But hell, it was like a horror show; you had to watch to the end. The monster had to be captured, or die. Besides, she was taping it. " 'If the leopard were as big as a lion it would be ten times more dangerous'.* Once they lose their respect for man, man becomes prey…And a man-eater is born. "The leopard is a hunter without equal amongst the big cats of the world. It is a beautiful combination of grace and power…compact muscle and flowing movement, all in one body. "It is one of the most accomplished of stalkers. In India, the leopard slinks from one patch of scrub to another. Inconspicuous…infinitely patient. How such a large creature can sneak unheard and unseen across an area covered only by sparse vegetation is a mystery. The leopard can creep extremely close to its prey, revealing itself only for a few seconds, at the instant of the attack. "After the kill, the leopard sets off toward a nearby tree with the carcass in tow. It will want to get its booty out of the reach of hungry scavengers. It can lug three times its own weight up into the tree, sometimes up to twenty, even thirty feet. "Some people say that black leopards are more powerful and savage than ordinary leopards. "Would you know the death counts of the more historically famous Man-Eaters, mes enfants?" Natalie drew in a breath. Was he trying to create a panic? To ensure that the poor cat was never brought in alive? Or was this just an imitation of the old Roman Circuses, pitting man against beast for the amusement of the powerful. "Between 1857 and 1860 a leopard known as the Kahani man-eater killed over two hundred people. Sixty years later in Rudyaprayag between 1918 and 1926, another leopard claimed one hundred and twenty-five lives. And in the Panar province in 1942, a man-eater had four hundred victims to its name. "All we have to worry about is our Yaguara. They say that she didn't eat of her kill, so perhaps she isn't a Man-Eater, just an animal making a bid for freedom. But then again after a year of captivity, a predator will eat what's available. She may have lost her fear. "A little bit of Kipling to those of you who know it: "'In the cage my life began; "'Well I know the worth of man "'By the broken lock that freed- "'Man-cub, ware the Man-cub's breed.' "And since it touches lightly on the subject, one more quote, and then mes amis, the I have things to do. "'But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame "'Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same, "'And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail, "'The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.' "I leave you now with a song not in my normal style and yet this evening, it is very apropos. Bonne nuit." Natalie shivered again as the drum beats and the symbols steadily grew in volume. Then David Bowie's voice crooned: See these eyes so green I can stare for a thousand years Colder than the moon It's been so long. Feel my blood enraged It's just the fear of losing you Don't you know my name? It's been so long. And I've been putting out the fire, With gasoline! Natalie picked up her phone and dialed; she had a really bad feeling. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- "No, man. No! I didn't see anything! It was just the drugs!" Nick leaned threateningly toward Warren and reached for his heart beat. He had only a moment while Tracy was gone to get herself a cup of coffee. *"What did you think you saw?"* Warren stared up at him, easily falling beneath his influence. "Cat-woman." Nick frowned. "What?" The shrill sound of his cell phone broke the trance and Nick cursed softly. He pulled the phone from his jacket. "Knight." "Nick." He turned away from Warren and smiled softly at the sound of her voice. "Nat, I'm kind of busy right now…" "Did you hear the Nightcrawler's broadcast tonight?" "No," he answered in surprise. "It doesn't come on for another couple of hours. Why?" She sighed, sounding nervous "It was early tonight, Nick. I recorded it for you and I think you should come down and listen. Maybe I'm making too much of what you told me last night, but…He was talking about the leopard tonight" "It's news right now, Nat." "I know, but…just come down and listen as soon as you can, okay? It really sounded like he was trying to start a panic. And from what he said and from what you've told me…maybe he has a private agenda. Maybe it's the reason the You-Know-Whos are here." She cut herself off. "Jeez, I sound paranoid. Forget it." "I'll come by in a little bit okay?" he murmured reassuringly. "Never mind…" "Nat," he interrupted in a comforting tone. "Better paranoid than unprepared. I'll see you soon." He hung up and turned back to the prisoner. Nick caught Warren's gaze and heartbeat again. *What do you mean by catwoman-* The door opened behind him, breaking his concentration. He glanced back at Tracy. "Nick, Jared and Elizabeth Lemieux should be arriving at the airport soon. We've gotta go." He growled softly, feeling pulled in too many directions. ---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Chapter 7 "Wouldn't you rather see what she looks like first?" LaCroix queried as they strode down the hospital hall. "It's irrelevant," Rajah replied waving his hand in irritation. LaCroix pursed his lips, struggling to contain his amusement. The dark skinned vampire glowered at him defensively. "What?" "Nothing. Only that so many are more concerned with outward beauty rather than the intelligence of a future companion." "Not all of us have the luxury of choices," Rajah stated simply, turning his attention back to the file in his hand that he had persuaded the duty nurse to surrender to him. LaCroix cocked his head in fascinated delight. Rajah hunched self-consciously then glared up at his Sire again. "What?!" " 'I've never seen a wild thing feel sorry for itself'," LaCroix intoned softly. "I do!" Rajah proclaimed irritably. "I just don't wallow in it. Self-pity is hardly likely to help me improve my future." He paused, calming himself. "I have to know about her physical and mental condition first. If the brain has been damaged to such an extent…I do not want a child for a companion. If I bring her across and it doesn't…and she's…" He stared into his Sire's piercing blue gaze. "If she's…and I'm too weak to do what must be done…will you…" "Yes," LaCroix answered simply. Rajah looked down in embarrassment. "Thank you." They walked silently down the corridor. Rajah paused at one. "Dr. Ross. This is the one." He shoved through the door without knocking. LaCroix shut the door firmly behind them. Rajah smiled at the mortal who was rising from his seat with an indignant expression. "Doctor. I have questions." ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ------ ----- ---- ----- ----- ----- Jenna sat cross-legged on her bed, brooding and staring at her hands. "Evening, Jenna," Carol Benten greeted quietly as she entered the room. She looked across the room at Amanda and Katie Tonson where they lay sleeping then turned again toward the conscious woman. "Can't sleep?" "I have bad dreams," Jenna replied softly. A statement of fact, no more. "You want to talk about them?" "No." Carol sighed at the bland tone. For most of the day, Jenna had been very self-contained and introspective. It was not a mood common to children. "I brought you some hot chocolate," she informed her charge cheerfully. The pale oval of Jenna's face turned to look at the cheerfully painted mug. "No thank you." "Don't you like it?" Carol asked in concern. Jenna smiled. "Yes, I do." "Then why don't you want it?" The younger woman stared at the cup, attracted to the smell of the rich beverage yet strangely repulsed at the same time. She remembered the taste of chocolate. She liked it immensely, but for some reason, it was bad. "Because I do." Carol frowned, perplexed by the girl's odd behavior. "When do I get to see the doctor?" Carol started at the sudden question. "What's the matter?" "When's he going to talk to me?" "I think he's waiting until your parents arrive. Wouldn't you rather wait, sweetie?" "I want to know if I have brain damage or amnesia or…or…or if I'm just stupid." Carol straightened and stared down into the tortured green eyes. "I have a grown up body," Jenna continued, looking at the nurse. "But I don't have a grown up brain. Why?" Carol shrugged. "I don't know," she answered compassionately. "Will I get better?" Carol took a breath to offer a comforting lie but stopped. She looked down at the mug of chocolate in her hands, then at the young woman before her. "I don't know. If anyone knows, I'm sure Dr. Ross does-" "And he's not going to talk to me until my parents get here. I wonder if that means I'm stupid for life." Carol set the chocolate on the tray near her bed and sat next to the young woman. "You're not stupid," she said firmly, stroking Jenna's dark hair behind her ear. "You're just a little girl." Jenna was silent. She stared at the mug of hot chocolate. She wanted it. But she wouldn't let herself have it. She didn't know why, but she wouldn't - couldn't touch that cup. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ----- ----- ------ Nick listened to the phone ring, impatiently waiting for Natalie to pick up. Across the terminal, he could see Tracy eagerly searching through the arriving passengers, holding up her little cardboard sign with the Lemieux's name on it; he did not have a great deal of time. "Lambert." "Hey, Nat, it's me." "Nick. Forget what I said earlier. I'm probably overreacting…" "You're not an overreacting kind of woman, Nat," he reassured her. "Look, I'm not going to be able to get down there for a few hours. Tracy and I are at the airport picking up Jenna's parents. Play the tape for me over the phone." "Will you be able to hear it well enough?" He smiled ironically, "I'll hear it." "All right." She rewound the tape and pressed the play button, holding the recorder close to the receiver. Nick listened carefully gritting his teeth at the familiar, manipulative voice that was stoking the flames of panic of the general populace. In mocking helpfulness, the old bastard fed the mortal fear of the wild, of the predator. The show ended and Nick knew that Yaguara was as good as dead. The very first time it became a choice of killing or losing her again they would shoot…and likely not with the tranquilizer guns. "You weren't overreacting, Nat," he commented grimly. "He's up to something." "What are you going to do?" "There's not much I can do since the Enforcers are in play. But I'll stop by the Raven tonight before I go home, to see if I can find out what exactly is going on." "If the Enforcers are out, shouldn't you stay out of sight?" she asked worriedly. "I can't imagine that your…quest would hold too much favor with them." "They don't care unless it endangers the Community. And if LaCroix's in trouble, I have to be there." "Why?" her tone was perplexed. "He's my…I belong…The bond…It's complicated," he cut his explanations off, perplexed by the simultaneous desire to help LaCroix and to thwart him. Complicated; there was a good word. "I guess. If LaCroix's transforming a panther again…and with the Enforcers in the area…Be careful Nick." "I will. I've got to go. It looks like Tracy has found the Lemieuxs." He hung up and watched as Tracy dropped the cardboard placard in a trash receptacle, bringing a middle-aged couple. "Nick Knight, this is Elizabeth Lemieux," Tracy gestured to the woman. The wiry woman extended her hand and, surprised, Nick took it. Regardless of how long he lived, the mannerisms of his time still colored his actions. In his era, women were fragile treasures to be protected; they did not have firm handshakes. Elizabeth Lemieux was definitely not a woman who wanted to be protected. Her grip was firm and callused, giving the impression that she dealt with problems on her own. There was a lean, tough aura around her, implying long grueling hours…even days…in less than benign conditions. She was dressed practically, in winter clothes, with a single overnight pack slung over her shoulder. This was a very up front woman who would likely ask blunt questions. She would want the truth regardless of how it hurt. "And this is Jared Lemieux," Tracy continued, noting Nick's quick assessment of the couple. Jared Lemieux's grip was every bit as firm as his wife's, though his eyes did not carry the same message of restrained aggression. His features were weather darkened and craggy, denoting past hardship and pain, and a stark contrast to the textured scar that ran from temple to jaw bone on the right side of his face. He too was dressed practically, no fuss made over business suits or trousers, just simple jeans, heavy boots and a turtleneck. They were not beautiful people, but they were arresting, with lines of grief around their eyes and the taut lines of repressed tension in their bodies. "Detective Vetter tells me that you are homicide detectives," Jared greeted the blond man cordially. At Nick's nod of agreement, he continued. "Is Jenna in any trouble? A witness of some sort?" "We have no proof this is, in fact, your daughter," Nick cautioned the man, not wanting for him to be too disappointed if things didn't turn out well. Jared nodded impatiently, as if expecting such cynicism from a policeman. "Is she in trouble?" "She is a possible witness," Nick clarified. "But she has no memory of how she came to be at the scene of the crime." "What type of crime?" Elizabeth asked as the four began to walk out of the terminal, toward the caddy. "I realize it must be a homicide to have you involved, but can you tell us more about it?" "This is in connection to an escaped leopard," Tracy informed her. "Really, Jenna's testimony would only be a formality. We already have the forensic evidence to let us know what happened. The other things we don't know, the whys and where-fors, we'll probably never know. Our presence here is strictly a courtesy to you, since Jenna was connected to the whole mess." The Lemieuxs seemed satisfied with the explanation. "When can we go to the hospital?" Elizabeth asked. "Right now." Nick drove, only half-paying attention to the conversation between Tracy and the Lemieuxs. They were asking questions that nobody, as yet, had the answers to: How Jenna had gotten to Canada? Where had she been for the last twelve years? What had happened to her? Tracy was gently trying to break the news to them that Jenna was possibly suffering from brain damage or amnesia. Nick looked out into the night, for a brief time grateful that he had no children to agonize over. He could not possibly begin to understand the pain that they had been through. And despite the possibility that the situation could turn out to be a long awaited joyous reunion, he was distracted, wondering where LaCroix and the Enforcers were. ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------- "It could've been much worse," LaCroix commented, staring at the damage on the sleeping girl's face. After he and Rajah had questioned the doctor about the details of Jenna's prognosis, they had left the physician sleeping deeply at his desk, with no recollection of their visit. To say that a doctor's murder in a hospital would not go unnoticed would be an understatement. The interview had been extensive, detailing every aspect of her health, from physical to psychological. The findings, although not completely disastrous, were not quite good either. Physically, she was very healthy, with the musculature and heart of an athlete. There was some faint scarring on her torso, neat narrow lines depicting some past trauma as well as some puncture scars on her thigh and shoulder that the doctor suspected been caused by an animal. But of her recent encounter, the only damage was the heavy bruising on her cheek. On first examination, the paramedics had suspected that the left cheekbone was fractured. But when x-rayed later, the bone beneath had shown no sign of damage. In addition, she had shown no signs of frostbite or hypothermia. If not for her account of the evening in question, her bruising would have been put off as a moment of extreme bad luck and not assault. Mentally, she showed no evident brain damage. There were no past signs of head trauma; no scars and no fractures. All evidence - or lack there of - indicated that her condition was strictly psychological. A self-imposed amnesia or fugue. Her six-year-old mentality was not a sign of retardation; it was simply where her memory ceased. There was no physical reason why she wouldn't regain her memory and become a completely healthy member of society. The diagnosis had sealed Jenna's fate as far as LaCroix was concerned. But Rajah, being Rajah, would doubtless want to wait until the last minute of his thirteen remaining days to allow her to be able to make an informed choice about her future. Considering Nicolas' continued misery and resentment, it was probably a wise decision. Finding Jenna's room had been all too easy; it was on her chart, which they returned to the duty nurse along with a suggestion to ignore all calls coming from room 612. Rajah stood in frozen wonder, too awed by the near completion of his long search to do anything other than stare at the sleeping young woman. He had waited two hundred and fifty years to find her. LaCroix glanced at the other bed where a little blond girl slept swathed in bandages. She exuded just the faintest smell of blood. "The injured child," Rajah stated, nodding toward the girl. It was an unnecessary statement. LaCroix could identify smells as easily as his son, but was relieved that Rajah's bespelled trance was broken. Next to the child, sleeping in a partially seated position, was the child's mother. Jenna herself slept fitfully, her hands twitching in reaction to her dream stimuli. She had a beautiful oval face with an aquiline nose and a sharp jaw line; one side nearly obscured by a large nasty bruise. The dark hair that framed her face was inky black and slightly curly. The short-sleeved pajama top she wore revealed sleek musculature that left no doubt of her physical fitness. Other than the bruise that marred her face, she was moon pale "We must hurry," LaCroix reminded his son, reluctant to interfere with Rajah's inspection of the woman destined to become his eternal companion. Rajah nodded and bent to ease his arms beneath her, taking the blankets along to keep her warm. Jenna gasped and opened her eyes, staring in terror at the masculine face so near her own. Rajah locked gazes with her, emerald to jade and captured her heartbeat. *Sleep,* he ordered tenderly. *You are in no danger.* Her lashes fluttered and then she relaxed in his arms, her breathing deep and regular. Rajah straightened, cradling her against his chest. He noticed that behind LaCroix, another occupant of the room was awake. "Father," he warned urgently. LaCroix turned and immediately covered Amanda's mouth before her scream could pierce the air. *Silence,* he commanded, effortlessly seizing her will. *You will forget that we were ever here. The girl got up of her own accord and left the room. She never returned.* He released her mouth and she blinked in fuzzy docility. "Never returned," she repeated. *Sleep.* She sank back in her chair and was obediently deeply asleep. Neither man noticed that beneath a curtain of pale gold hair, the little girl was wide-awake and terrified. She watched, mute as her friend and protector was taken from the room. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound emerged from her throat. Silence She took a deep breath and tried again, but the deafening silence was broken only by the sound of her own breath and her mother's snores. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- LaCroix and Rajah took the elevator to the roof. The upper floors would be less active than the lower and a trivial little detail of being twelve stories up was of no consequence to them. Jenna slept, oblivious to the bitter cold and the delicate snowflakes that melted on her cheeks. Rajah stared down at her peaceful face until LaCroix broke the spell by pulling a blanket over her slumbering countenance. "Don't get distracted Rajah," LaCroix ordered sternly. "We must still get her home." Both vampires hesitated as a trickle of awareness brushed against their minds. "Nicolas," LaCroix identified in a low whisper. He motioned Rajah back and moved forward to the edge of the roof himself. In the parking lot below he could see Nicolas' light green mortal-mobile pulling into a parking space. His son, along with three mortals, exited the vehicle and walked toward the hospital. ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Nick paused as he sensed the presence of his sire. He stiffened and looked warily around, peering up into the night sky. "Nick," Tracy called. He blinked and his attention returned to his mortal companions. They were all looking at him impatiently. "Let's go," Tracy ushered him to catch up with them. He gave the sky a last quick look and joined them, knowing that at that moment he had no convenient excuse to remove himself from their company to seek out his sire. The confrontation would have to wait. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- LaCroix watched in satisfaction as Nick fruitlessly searched the sky, unable to locate his master. His search was cut short when his blond partner called him to heel. Like a dog, Nicolas obeyed. LaCroix bared his teeth in annoyance. "Let's go." Rajah nodded and they both took to the air, leaving no trace of their presence, only a child who could not speak and would not be believed if she could. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- Jing-Wei watched as they carried the young woman from the hospital, surprised. Surely after all this time of searching, Rajah could not simply walk into a city and identify one of his own. If it was so easily accomplished, he would have done it years ago. LaCroix was up to something. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ Chapter 8 Nick walked with Tracy and the Lemieuxs to Jenna's room. As they passed the duty nurse's station, he requested that Jenna's doctor join them in the room as soon as possible. The moment of truth had arrived. Jared and Elizabeth looked at each other and then very deliberately clasped hands. They pushed the door open. There was a pause, and then Elizabeth turned on Nick angrily. "What is this? Some sick joke?" Mystified by her furious reaction, Nick pushed by the couple into the room. He cursed, horrified at the sight that met his eyes. Little Katie Tonson was sitting straight up in her bed, soundlessly screaming. Next to her, oblivious to the deafening silence of her daughter's suffering, Amanda Tonson slept in a chair. Jenna's bed was empty. Not only empty, but also all of the linens had been stripped from the hospital mattress, leaving no sign that the girl had ever been there. Nick crossed urgently to the frightened child, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of fresh blood emanating from her. "Tracy, go get a doctor. I think Katie's broken her stitches." He halted before touching her and knelt next to her bed. She ceased her hysterical silent screaming, looking at him with a mixture of appeal and terror. "Easy Katie. I'm here to help. What happened to Jenna?" She pointed to the door and opened her mouth to scream again. *Shh,* he whispered capturing her rabbit-like heart beat. *Just tell me what happened. Be calm. Nothing will hurt you. Tell me what happened?* Katie's eyes widened as if by magic she felt the power of her voice return to her. "The man," she whispered, too soft for the others to hear. "The man took her." *Can you describe him?* Nick asked, maintaining the vampire mesmerism, frightened she would go mute again if he released her. "There were two men. One was tall and wore black clothes. His hair was blonde. The man who took Jenna, hair was black. He had dark skin. He picked her up with all her blankets. He made her sleep. And the blonde man made my Mommy be quiet and sleep." Nick grimly listened to the recitation. LaCroix. He released her heartbeat and turned to the mother. The Lemieuxs were already converging on the hapless Mrs. Tonson, shaking her ruthlessly awake. "Where is she?" Elizabeth demanded. "Where did she go?" Amanda Tonson blearily opened her eyes, still more than half asleep. "Who are you?" "Where did Jenna go?" Jared repeated, scowling down at the brunette. Amanda frowned. "She left a while ago. Didn't say a word. Just walked out. She never came back." Nick arched his brows in disbelief and glanced back at Katie who was silently shaking her head. Amazing; LaCroix had missed someone. But she was only a traumatized little girl: who was going to listen to her? He had apparently underestimated Katie. "You've got to find her," Elizabeth snarled, turning on Nick. "We have not waited this long and come this far only to lose her now." She grabbed his leather jacket lapels in her fists. "You've got to find her!" Nick caught hold of her hands and looked to Jared with appeal. "I will. But you need to remain calm. Stay here." He pulled free from the woman's grasp and headed toward the door. Tracy's collided with him in the doorway. Nick caught her by the arms to steady her. "Doctor's on his way," she said, even as a nurse pushed by them to help Katie. Nick pulled his partner out of the room and out of the way. "Search the hospital. See if anyone's seen her. She can't be hard to miss in hospital pajamas. "What about you?" "I'm going to check down the road. Maybe her memory came back and she panicked." She nodded and rushed down the hall to speak to the staff. Nick shot one last compassionate look to the Lemieuxs. "Stay here. We'll find her." He left to confront LaCroix. He'd rather fly…it would be faster…but if Jenna was indeed at the Raven, he would need the caddy to bring her back. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ---- ------ ----- ---- ----- The two vampires landed in the alley behind the club and entered through the back door. Discretion was a favored word amongst the Community and carrying an unconscious human girl through the front doors would not be considered discreet. Rajah carried his prize carefully down the basement stairs and through the wine cellar to a private room where Janette had once slept, LaCroix following close behind. He laid Jenna gently on the bed and lightly stroked her hair. She was the whole of his future, more precious than jewels and more vital than blood. The Beast within him stirred at the scent of her. She smelled of jasmine and rain, with a touch of strawberry…sweet. There was an underlying scent of feral rage and uninhabited places…with a slight taint of fear…a wild thing held captive and denied her predatory nature. He bent toward her, both aspects of his dual nature demanding for a taste of what was his. His green eyes changed to gold as he focused on the steady pulse that throbbed at her throat. He inhaled, intoxicated by all the things her scent promised. How could he ever have mistaken Lily for one of his own? Nothing in her had promised this…rightness. His lips touched the flesh of her throat and his fangs descended, aching to pierce her…to ease not a hunger, but the emptiness inside. He ran his tongue slowly across the artery, feeling her life pulse. A hand grasped him by the shoulder and he turned with a snarl, ready to defend what was his. "Control yourself, Rajah," LaCroix ordered softly. "As you are, you would not stop in time to bring her across. You would only kill her." The younger vampire clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, pushing his face into his Sire's shoulder with a tormented moan. LaCroix was still, savoring the contact of a Childe that did not reject him or his gift. His hand twitched, aching to cradle his son against him "I must know," Rajah growled, pulling away from LaCroix. "I must know the state of her mind, whether her captivity broke her." "The blood will tell." Rajah shook his head. "I would not be able to stop. And it would likely not make any sense to you." "Then you must ask her." Rajah slowly turned his still golden eyes toward the sleeping girl, aching for her. He closed his eyes again, restraining the hunger. "Stay with me. I do not trust myself." LaCroix turned Rajah and pushed him down next to her on the bed. He squeezed his son's shoulders in reassurance, then stepped to the side where he could see them both. He watched Rajah's tense face carefully, ready to prevent any damage from a loss of control. *Jenna,* Rajah whispered, summoning her from sleep. Her lashes fluttered, then lifted, revealing her jade green eyes. She gasped and reared up, sliding backward to retreat from the stranger who towered over her. *Don't be afraid.* ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ Nick pushed through the writhing throng of dancers toward the back of the club. He hesitated momentarily distracted by the sense of his Sire and the presence of another. It was a vaguely familiar presence, one that he associated with danger…the Enforcer? He headed down the stairs to Janette's private bedroom and shoved through the door, halting at the sight of two male vampires hovering over Jenna, where she lay vulnerable. Their power filled his mind and without hesitation, the chevalier rushed forward to slam his Sire against a tapestry covered wall. LaCroix stared at his favorite offspring, surprised that he hadn't sensed him earlier. He immediately chuckled in a mocking welcome, "Why Nicolas, what has brought about such an exuberant greeting?" "Why have you taken her?" Nick snarled, lifting his Sire from the floor. "You endanger us all by taking her from the hospital as you did. What game are you and this Enforcer playing?" LaCroix laughed and caught hold of Nick's hands, removing their grip from him. His feet once more touching the floor, the ancient nonchalantly brushed the wrinkles from his shirt. "What game is it that you think we play Nicolas?" "I think you've made another abomination and she witnessed it. And this time the Enforcers are here for you," Nick snarled, looking warily at the dark man who sat on the bed near Jenna, holding her captive with his unwavering gaze. "Wishful thinking, Nicolas. The Enforcers are not here for me." Nick stilled, swallowing his momentary fear. If they were after him…Natalie was in danger…"Why are they here?" he demanded. "Well, despite your indiscretions, they are not here for you either." "Then who?" Nick roared impatiently. "They're here for me," Rajah answered softly, never releasing his hold of Jenna's strong heartbeat. Nick jerked his gaze to the stranger. "You're not one of them?" "No." Nick studied the dark vampire's profile. "Then who are you? I've sensed you before." Rajah smiled without mirth. "I am the abomination." Nick was still, not understanding. Rajah ignored him, turning his full attention to the dark haired girl before him. *What is your name?* "Jenna Lemieux." *Your full name?* Jenna frowned and reached back into the recesses of her memory to provide him with an answer that she'd nearly forgotten. "Genevieve Singh Lemieux." Rajah smiled at her pronunciation; not the Americanized jen-uh-veev but the original French, jen-uh-vee-ehv. *How old are you Jenna?* "Seven and a half." He asked her question after question, trying to find out exactly when her memory began, ended and began again. *Before you awoke in the warehouse, where were you?* "I was in the sand box with Maria." Rajah stood and paced away from the bed. He sensed what had happened to her. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. "Are you quite done?" Nick asked irritably. "I have to take her back. Her parents have come for her." "Her parents are dead," Rajah answered tonelessly, his eyes closed against the pain of what was yet unsaid. Nick looked from the stranger's stiff back, to his Sire's enigmatic face, to Jenna's bespelled countenance. "Her adopted parents are here to take her home." Rajah sighed and turned back to approach the bed. "They can do nothing for her," he stated sadly, perching next to the mesmerized girl. "They're her parents-" "Be silent Nicolas," LaCroix instructed coldly. "Let Rajah finish before we decide what must be done with her." "You can't seriously be considering bringing a mentally retarded girl across," Nick exclaimed in disbelief. "Nicolas," LaCroix snapped warningly. Nick fell silent, staring at his sire resentfully. Helpless to interfere, he glared at the stranger, Rajah. *What happened then?* Jenna was still, unnaturally so, as she answered in a stilted tone. "I don't remember." *Yes you do, Jenna. Tell me.* She shook her head in frantic refusal, startling the three. "I don't remember!" "If you push her, you'll break her." Nick jumped at the new voice and looked toward the door where a woman stood. He would never again mistake a normal vampire for an Enforcer. When an Enforcer revealed his or her nature, there was no mistaking what they were. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- "You're early," Rajah whispered, not looking at the powerful being who had arrived to pass judgment over him. "I have thirteen more days." "Twelve," she corrected solemnly. "If you force her to confront it before she's ready, you'll break her." "What would you know?" She smiled, flashing a bit of fang. "I have a degree in psychology." The three males turned incredulous expressions to each other and then her. "I can't spend all of my time rubbing out idiots and nosy mortals." Jing-Wei entered the room and approached the bed, carefully studying the girl's pale face. "Is she truly one of yours, Rajah?" "Yes." "How can you tell?" Rajah turned and met the Enforcer's hard gaze. In spite of himself, he shivered, but he answered her anyway. "I know." Jing-Wei was silent and thoughtful. She could simply destroy Rajah. She could even destroy LaCroix if she was so inclined. Rajah's sentence had been suspended on a whim. She could reinstate it just as easily. As for LaCroix, Rajah's very existence was reason enough to destroy him. Creation without proper training and control…an undisciplined vampire could jeopardize the secret of vampires existence. The other, Nicolas, did not interest her and the girl could be returned to her mortal family with barely a ripple in the Community. All of this was her choice, her responsibility. She stepped forward to the bed. "Move out of the way," she instructed Rajah, taking his place at Jenna's side when he reluctantly obeyed. Jenna stared at her blankly, still captivated by Rajah's hypnotism. Jing-Wei leaned toward the quiescent girl. Nicolas gasped in protest, but was silenced by LaCroix. Jing-Wei sank her hard teeth into Jenna's throat. Rajah snarled but remained still. The Asian vampire swallowed the sweet elixir that flooded her mouth…and she knew… She had been playing with Maria in the sandbox when she went to get some leaves from the nearby bushes to decorate their sandcastle. The man, the large man with the smelly yellow teeth had taken her. She had screamed for help, but his hard hands covered her mouth, muffling her cries as he carried her away. In the jungle he had hurt her. It was a deserted spot, not really far from the road, but far enough that no one heard her scream. He had laid on her and put something between her legs. It felt like he had ripped her in half from the inside out, from her legs to her chest. He had cut her. He had hit her. And when he was done and the pain was too much for her to scream anymore, he had left her. Her pain had been all she knew. Until the heat. The heat burned beyond all thought, burning away the terror and the confusion. It burned away memory and filled her until she thought she would explode. And then she did. Her child's hands became heavy paws, her short, chewed nails, sharp claws. Her immature body, although not yet full grown, was much more powerful now, with the sleek musculature of a cat. She understood. She was like the cats that Mommy and Daddy had trained. Not her new Mommy and Daddy, but her old ones. She had faced the jungle and listened to the resounding bird sounds and animal calls. There was a way to go back to who she had been. A way to be little helpless Jenna again. She knew this just as she knew how to walk on her four feet and to breathe the air. But she didn't want to be Jenna again. Being Jenna hurt and her parents hadn't come for her in time to save her from the monster. She gripped the jungle floor with her sharp claws and ran her tongue over her sharp teeth. Nobody could hurt her this way. As the decision crystallized, the identity of Jenna disappeared and the leopard was all that remained. Jing-Wei took a second swallow. Life was food, water and shelter. Occasionally, there were fights with the other large cats that tried to steal her prey from her. Because they were bigger, more often than not, she let them. Also they bit harder than she did. She could be courteous and share territory. There was food enough to go around. Jing-Wei took a third swallow. Seasons passed. And when the calls for love and children came, they were not for her. Jing-Wei took a final swallow, seeing and feeling the last days of the leopard's freedom. Then her year of captivity. She drew back and licked the wound, sealing the punctures. "She has not been Jenna for the entire time that she was missing," Jing-Wei informed Rajah. LaCroix scowled at the Enforcer. "And why should her blood be able to tell you what it would not be able to tell me?" "Because she has Tasted me," Rajah whispered, remembering the Enforcer's ruthless invasion of his psyche. His sire had never violated him so...and consequently, did not know Rajah as the Enforcer did. Rajah stared forlornly at the girl then to Jing-Wei. "Truly, she's been changed all this time?" He asked softly. "Twelve years." "Changed into what?" Nick demanded in bewilderment. Rajah sighed, "She would have been just a baby." He turned to LaCroix. "It's done. The thirteen or twelve days don't matter anymore. Even if she could remember, she would need the time in her human form to complete her mental growth. She can remember emotions and brief images from her other self, but not enough to be an adult equal. No amount of hypnotism can change that." Nick stared from Rajah's sad expression, to LaCroix's increasingly neutral one, then to Jing-Wei's expressionless one. "You know what must be done," Rajah stated. "For the good of the Blood Line." LaCroix stepped toward his son, prepared to do his duty despite his inner anguish. His approach was interrupted by the loud vibrating of his pager. "That would be our delivery. I will deal with it. Whether she joins the family or not, Yaguara is still gone." "What is going on here?!" Nick demanded furiously, tired of the cryptic comments that passed back and forth between the three of them, with Jenna a silent puppet whose strings had been dropped in a tangle. "The rectification of a very old mistake," Jing-Wei answered. "Two hundred and forty eight years old to be exact." "LaCroix?" Nick questioned. "India, Nicolas," the elder identified as he shut off the pager. Nick stared at Rajah and at last understood the familiarity of the vampire. "The leopard," he concluded in a shocked tone. "You're a shapechanger." "Yes," LaCroix returned. "Are you insane?" Nick blurted before remembering that before an Enforcer, the BloodLine should be unified. LaCroix glared at him. "That was my assessment as well," Jing-Wei commented. "But the selection of progeny is up to the sire, so long as that progeny does not endanger the Community." Nick stared in revulsion at his brother. "Surely he does, just by his existence. The rampages that he goes on when in his animalistic form, are surely noticeable." Rajah smiled ironically. "I dare say I have killed far fewer than you." Nick flinched. "Enough," Jing-Wei commanded. "You two go," she nodded to Nick and LaCroix, "deal with your delivery. Rajah and I need a moment alone." LaCroix was still for several heartbeats then approached the Enforcer threateningly, until they were face to face. "If he must be destroyed," he growled, "he is mine to destroy." Jing-Wei raised a dark brow and did not respond. LaCroix turned and exited the room. "Come Nicolas. If you want the girl, you'll have to wait and see what's left of her after we're done with her." Nick snarled and reluctantly retreated from the Enforcer's implacable gaze. "Where are we going?" LaCroix exited the back of the club, Nick hot on his heels. "To give your police something to find," he responded and took to the air. Nick watched him go. Then looked back helplessly at the Raven. There was nothing he could do. To rebel against one Enforcer was to bring down the wrath of them all. Jenna's only chance was for him to ride the night through. He flew after his sire. ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ---- ----- ----- Jing-Wei stared at Rajah, coldly judging his worth. "Would you truly have your own sire destroy you?" "To save the Blood Line, yes. I'm doomed either way, might as well not take the whole family down with me." She raised her hand for silence. "Let's not be so hasty. You have located another of your original species and but for extenuating circumstances, would have fulfilled my directives. In addition, if your species have become as rare as I believe, you may be Jenna's only chance for happiness as well. Are you willing to deal?" He looked up from the floor and into her cold gaze, afraid to hope. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Chapter 9 Nick watched as LaCroix carefully laid out the body of the leopard. He meticulously arranged the body to look as if she'd just collapsed. "Did you know that he was a shapechanger?" LaCroix paused slightly, then continued with the leopard. "You mean when I brought him across?" "Yes." "I knew when I tasted him," LaCroix stated, remembering that first surprising knowledge. "How could you do it?" Nick asked sadly. "He was already a monster. You made him even more of one?" "Always dividing things up into good and evil. The world is so black and white to you, Nicolas. How do you bear it?" LaCroix stared thoughtfully at the dead leopard and opened her lids. They stared sightlessly forward. He stood back, kicked some snow over her flanks, and turned away, satisfied. "Tell me," Nick entreated. "His creation has brought the attention of the Enforcers upon our Blood Line-" "Our Blood Line. Since when have you been a devoted family member?" LaCroix spat, enraged that time and again Nicolas had nearly brought the Enforcers upon himself and his Sire, in his quest for mortality. Nicolas' destruction had been averted by either LaCroix's interference or Janette's on several occasions. Even recently, Nicolas strayed over the edge of proper vampire behavior in his associations with the police and his relationship with Natalie Lambert. It was because LaCroix was so busy trying to save Nicolas from his own self-destructive tendencies that Rajah's one terrible mistake could not be averted and his one faithful son saved. "LaCroix…" " ' I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself'," the elder vampire intoned. " ' A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having once felt sorry for itself '. " Rajah was a tribal prince whose bride had already been selected for him by the priests of his people. Unfortunately, British soldiers were a little too Christian and a little too zealous in their repression of the local religion: his bride was killed as a heretic or demon or some such nonsense. And Rajah was alone in ways that you and I cannot comprehend. He believed that he was the only one of his kind left in India. Of course there were rumors that others of his kind had gone to ground, to hide from the British incursion, but these stories pointed in so many different directions that there was really very little hope that Rajah would ever find another of his kind." Nick frowned. "He looks human enough. Couldn't he just…" "No," LaCroix replied shortly. "And that's what caught my attention. Despite a rather keen desire, Rajah refused Janette's advances. I was curious, Janette was embarrassed and I went to punish him…only to find him already punished. I didn't understand his limitations when I brought him across. I only knew that he was more than human, that no part of him could be defined as prey." "He can't control the changes, can he?" Nick concluded. "Come," LaCroix ordered. "They should be done talking now." Nick grit his teeth in frustration as his sire took to the air. He followed. ---- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ Jing-Wei stared thoughtfully at Rajah, astounded at his offer. "You are sure of this?" She asked him carefully. "This is your only chance. Without her, you will die." Rajah swallowed fearfully and nodded. He stroked his fingers gently through Jenna's hair, marveling at the softness of the silky strands. "Yes," he said firmly, putting Jenna's well being before his own needs and desires. "She is a child…and she needs time…I will imprint upon her what she needs to know. She mustn't think of herself as a monster," he added softly. "I will show her who she is…her ancient and noble lineage. Then I'll return her to her mortal family." "Mortals would have no understanding of her needs," Jing-Wei warned, testing his resolve. "It might be better for her to stay with us." "With the Enforcers?" Rajah queried in disbelief. "No," he refuted firmly. "I want her to finish growing up in a family based on love, not fear and blood." Jing-Wei's hard expression softened in approval. Rajah's self sacrifice was nearly unheard of amongst the vampire race. Self-preservation was the code of the species. She could not allow such nobility to perish. "You have thirteen years until I come for you again." Rajah looked up at her, shocked and hopeful. "This extension is only in regards to Genevieve Singh Lemieux," Jing-Wei cautioned him. "You found her within your allotted time. It is only through extraordinary circumstances that she is too damaged to be brought across now. Any attempt to locate another of your species will be considered a violation of your parole and you will be destroyed immediately. Jenna's recovery and acceptance of you is your only chance. She cannot be coerced or tricked. Is this understood?" "Completely," Rajah agreed, thankful for the opportunity…but… "I have one more request." Her lips tightened at the effrontery of the man. She had given him great clemency already. "What?" "If I fail in thirteen years time, I'd like for my sire to be given the chance to execute me and thus leave no shame on the Blood Line." She considered that for several long moments then decided. "No." "But…" "No. I have no objection to your creation. My objection is to the imperfection of your training. I find it shocking that you were so quickly left on your own, despite your special needs. And from LaCroix, of all people! LaCroix keeps a tighter fist on the reins of his children than most sires, it shows either a complete lack caring for you, or an overabundance to another Childe, Nicolas. In either case, it sets bad precedent to let a vampire of his age get away with this. The shame will make him more cautious in his dealings with his progeny." Rajah said nothing, unable to refute her statement. "Now," Jing-Wei continued more compassionately. "Tell the girl what she needs to know." Rajah moved to sit next to Jenna. He tilted her chin toward him with a finger, fondly noting her half-lidded drowsiness. As she matured, her susceptibility to such a lengthy hypnotism would decrease if not cease call together. The fact that she had remained in the trance without his complete attention on her was only more proof of her mind's immaturity. *Jenna,* he whispered softly, calling her full attention to him. *You must listen to me, for what I am about to tell you is very important. It's a racial memory, Jenna. I'm only reminding you of what you already know. Do you understand?* "Yes." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ LaCroix halted at the door and immediately restrained Nicolas keeping him silent. Rajah had just bent over Jenna and was about to tell her what she was. "This is what I've always wanted to know," the ancient whispered wonderingly. "Where they came from." ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ------ ------ ----- ----- *Long ago, our ancestors sacrificed their children to the leopards,* Rajah intoned, knowing that the phrase would key the required memory. It was how all mothers passed the knowledge on to their children. The heat of the mid-afternoon sun beat down upon the women as they gathered near the river to do the wash. The world breathed with the scent of spices, water, soap, sweat and heat. The air was alive with the sound of voices and laughter, the gentle enjoyment of women sharing their lives with friends. The sounds of laughter faded abruptly as the dark robed priests and priestesses came amongst them to choose. They chose an unmarried girl on the threshold of womanhood who had been working alongside her mother. And despite the fact that she was taken, without a word of explanation, to be escorted away to her death, there was no protest from the women. The priests and priestesses escorted the girl from the village and into the desert. They came to a great tree. The trunk had split and on each side, the divided trunk supported several branches. Without a word they tied her to the tree, her arms encircling the rough trunk and her wrists secured on the other side of the tree. Then they left. Hours passed and she stood there, frightened, but never called out. When the sun lowered in the sky, the blues and violets of twilight painted the sky and the air cooled to raise goose bumps on her bare arms and legs. She remained silent. And in the dark of night, the great cat approached her. It reared up on its hind legs, using her body and the tree for balance. She never cried out as it ripped her throat out. *In time," he continued, carrying her to a memory generations later, "the souls of the children grew inside the leopards.* A black robed priestess approached a girl, again poised on the thresh-hold of womanhood. The old woman gestured. Immediately, the girl ceased her work and followed the priestess meekly out of the village, toward the leopard tree. They came to the hill where the tree stood and passed by the ancient trunk where so many before her had died. They circled the hill to a cave hidden amongst the rocks. The priestess pointed to the cave and with only a glance, for confirmation, the girl bent and entered the shadowed den. The leopard lay on a raised platform. It stared at her with predatory, leaf green eyes and roared softly at her. She tilted her chin bravely up and met its green gaze with her own. *We were gods then.* The great tree extended toward the sky, its branches spread like fingers. Cradled on each limb, sprawled in lazy abandon, were numerous melanistic cats. Their pink tongues protruded from their sleek heads, as they panted beneath the desert heat. On the rocks below, spread out in carved bowls, were bowls of water and raw meat. *We are an incestuous race. We can only make love with our own." A man and woman, similar in appearance, kissed passionately, exchanging loving caresses. *Otherwise we change.* A man shuddered in pain, his body glistening with fever. His sleeping, pale haired lover turned to her side, oblivious to his soft gasping cries. He convulsed and moaned, his pale green eyes tearing from the agony that rippled from within. His spine curved outward, pressing through his skin and unable to remain erect, he fell to all fours. Claws burst forth from his fingertips and then the palms swelled until heavy paws burst through and the human hands disappeared completely. His teeth sharpened and his brow pushed forward until the skull exploded and the leopard within emerged. *And to change back, we must kill.* A pale body lay next to the leopard, partially wrapped in what once had been a white sheet now soaked through with blood. The flesh that was visible had deep gouges, splitting the meat that had once been a human being. The leopard's torso shrank into its self and straightened. The bones in the back legs snapped and realigned for the bipedal locomotion of a man, the long claws retracting into the individual digits of each toe. The face pulled back into itself, the fur shrinking back into the skin until only a normal face was revealed. The man rolled to his side, free from the burning pain of transformation and saw his dead lover: he wept in grief stricken horror. Rajah released her and passed his fingers lightly over her eyelids. *Sleep,* he whispered as the connection faded, releasing her back to deep slumber. Nick frowned in disgust. "That explained exactly nothing." Rajah rose from the bed and faced the two vampires in the doorway. "Not to you perhaps," he stated, knowing that Nicolas and LaCroix were more bemused than before. "But the explanation is not for you." He turned back and stroked Jenna's cheek, already missing her. "She knows now. Take her Nicolas," he ordered, before he could change his mind. "Return her to her adopted parents. She sleep walked out of the hospital and down the road where you found her." "And her bedding?" Nick demanded, knowing that no one was going to believe that story. "Soak it in the snow before you take her back," Rajah snapped. Nick stared from each of the vampires and ground his teeth in frustration. He was not going to get any answers and he simply had to accept that. He went to the girl and gathered her to him then paused as he headed toward the exit. "Is this over?" He asked of the dark vampire. "Are you done with her?" "As far as you're concerned," Rajah replied neutrally, forcing himself not to react to Nicolas' hands upon his beloved. He had no liking for his brother whose self-righteousness permitted no failings of his own, much less in any others. Nicolas would never forgive Rajah for never having been human and Rajah could not forgive Nicolas for the narrow-mindedness that labeled anything not human and beyond mortal comprehension as inherently evil. Nick hesitated, sensing some of Rajah's feelings through their link, then grimly turned away from the shape-changing vampire. Rajah watched, motionless, as Nick carried his precious Jenna past LaCroix, up the stairs and out of his life. He closed his eyes, unable to watch. His loneliness surged within him and he knew that thirteen years would be an eternity. LaCroix glanced from Rajah's shuttered expression to the Enforcer's implacable face. "I take it that a new agreement has been reached?" he questioned. "Rajah has been given an extension of thirteen years in hopes of Jenna's recuperation," Jing-Wei stated shortly. "And if she does not recover?" He queried, studying Rajah's uninformative face. "Then I will destroy him." LaCroix turned to the Enforcer, prepared to bargain for more time, but she was gone, without so much as a stir of the wind. He turned back to his youngest son, whose fate rested in the recovery of a child. Rajah picked up the pillow that Jenna's head had rested on and clutched it to him, inhaling her lingering scent. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Nick halted the car a mile from the hospital and turned the engine off. He looked out through the windows at the snow falling lightly on windshield. He studied the trees and bushes, the depth of the snow and the proximity of the road. There were enough obstacles that finding her in the dark would not have been easy: an excuse for his long absence. He wouldn't have to worry about making tracks to account for the journey that she didn't make. The snowfall would have filled them up. He sighed and looked at Jenna's peaceful face, amazed that one child could have so very many terrible things happen in her short life. Then, to top all the suffering off, she had somehow attracted the attentions of LaCroix's abominable son. Was she truly a shapechanger? Was that what LaCroix and…Rajah had seen in her? She didn't smell any different from a normal human being, except perhaps a trifle more of the "wild" flavors to her scent. She didn't look any different either; no feralness to her features, no abnormal sharpness to her teeth. Just a normal human girl in her late teens. He got out of the caddy and circled around to the passenger side. He had to make evidence for her late night journey. If it wasn't there, it would be missed; her blankets, her clothes and her bare feet all had to be cold and wet. His brow furrowed at the cruelty of the act. It was necessary because of LaCroix and his bastard. He opened the door and pulled Jenna out of the car, to sink her narrow pale feet into the thick powder. He knew the shock would not awake her. The last command of sleep had been strong. She would not awaken until ordered to do so. It didn't even matter who ordered; human or vampire, the command would release her to her own recognizance. *Walk Jenna,* he ordered softly, guiding the obedient child through the snow and bushes, letting bare branches catch and snap on her blankets, churning up mud to dirty her feet and dragging covers. After five minutes of thoroughly soaking her blankets and freezing her poor bare toes, Nick pulled out his cellular phone and called his partner. "Vetter." "Tracy, it's Nick." "Where the hell have you been? I've tried calling you!" Nick flinched at the half scream, made painfully loud by his vampire senses and thought quickly of a logical reason for his inaccessability. 'Gee Trace, I was checkin' the vampire community,' probably wouldn't cut it here. "My phone battery was dead and I had to change over to the spare. Just realized it myself. Anyway, I found her." "Thank god," she muttered. "Where was she?" He cocked his head and stared at the tranquil face, oblivious to him, the weather and everything. "Sleepwalking about a mile down the road." "Only a mile? And it took you this long to find her?" "In case you hadn't noticed, Tracy, it is snowing. Her tracks had filled in. And the trees obscured her. It was just luck that I saw her at all," he lied persuasively. "At least you found her before she died of exposure. Get her in before she loses any toes. Her parents are waiting." "Be there soon." Nick hung up the phone. "Jenna, wake up," he ordered softly, at long last releasing her from the hypnotic spell. Jenna blinked fuzzily and gasped in sudden terror. There had been a man leaning over her. "It's all right. You're all right now." It was the blonde detective from the night before. She shivered, cold and suddenly realized that she was not where she was supposed to be. "Where am I?" She gasped, instinctively huddling into the blankets that were wrapped around her shoulders, belatedly realizing that they were already wet and offered her no protection. Recognizing her fear and acute discomfort, Nick shrugged out of his jacket. He pulled the blankets from her grasp and dropped them to the ground, wrapping her firmly in his large leather jacket. It was not heated from his body, but he supposed it must be warmer than her blankets. He scooped her up in his arms, lifting her out of the snow and relieved that necessity could at last concede to gallantry. "You were sleep walking," he told her as he put her back into the caddy. He closed the door and went around to start the engine and get the heater going before he went back for the abandoned hospital blankets. Jenna huddled in grateful comfort as the warm air blasted her feet, wincing at the pain as their chill numbness passed and feeling returned. Nick got back into the car and tossed the blankets into the back. He disengaged the parking brake and headed back to the hospital, eager to get the girl warm. He didn't tell her about the Lemieuxs because as yet, there was no proof that she was indeed their missing daughter. He hoped she was, otherwise she would be alone. He wasn't certain that having LaCroix and Rajah was better than having no one. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Tracy turned to the worried parents and smiled weakly. "He found her sleep walking a mile up the road. They're on the way back." Elizabeth stood up, eager to vacate the cramped, plastic chair she had been waiting in. "He'll take her to the emergency room," she whispered to her husband softly, extending her hand. Taking a deep breath, Jared stood and embraced his wife. They had been waiting for so long…They had in fact, given up on ever finding their baby. Now, after twelve fruitless years of searching, the moment had arrived. This was their final hope…and if this young woman was not their daughter, then their Jenna was truly gone forever. Jared clutched his wife tightly against him, unable to express his terror any other way. "Let's go," he whispered softly into Elizabeth's hair. She nodded against his chest, feeling her own heart racing just as quickly as the pulse beneath her cheek. They separated and clasped hands, tightly entwining their fingers together as they walked steadily to the elevator and waited for the doors to open. Tracy followed behind the couple, unable to alleviate their pain. The elevator doors opened. Elizabeth took a deep breath and squeezed Jared's hand reassuringly. They could do this. ----- ----- ----- ------ ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ Jenna rested quietly against the policeman's chest as he carried her inside the hospital. She looked around the busy hospital room. It was the same one the ambulance had brought her and Katie to the night before. The elevator doors across the room opened. Jenna's eyes opened wide. Love. Safety. Happiness. Jenna stared at the couple, and then her pale blue lips broke into a smile as she struggled in the policeman's arms. "Mommy! Daddy!" Her feet touched the floor and she pushed away from the blonde man toward her parents. "Mommy! Daddy!" They came out of the elevator, their arms open wide to catch her. Jenna threw herself at them, clutching them tightly to her. She was safe…she was home. "Jenna," Elizabeth whispered in a broken tone. She held the young girl tightly to her. It was her baby. Elizabeth's legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the floor, pulling Jenna with her. "Oh baby," she wept, cupping her daughter's face in her hands. She studied the remembered jade green eyes and smiled. "Oh baby. Thank god you're alive. We've been looking for you for so long!" She clasped the damp dark haired girl to her chest. "My baby. We've missed you so." Jenna pressed her face into her mother's breast, listening to the loving words reverberate and vibrate against her ear. Jared swallowed the thick emotion that built in his throat. His baby was home…He knelt next to his girls and gathered them both against his chest, unable to hold back the tears. Jenna sobbed in relief as she clutched her mother close, feeling her father holding them both, with her squeezed between them. She was safe. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ----- ----- Tracy stepped around the weeping family, uncomfortable by the depth of emotion so openly displayed. She walked over to her partner, where he was standing by the administration desk of the ER, watching the tearful reunion with an envious expression. She grinned teasingly. "Gee, Nick, by the envy on your face, one would almost think that you actually want a family of your own. Ready to give up your freedom and put on the old ball and chain?" "Ball and Chain?" Nick repeated. "Trace, I don't think I'm the hardened bachelor here." Tracy looked back at the tearful reunion. Maybe not, she thought. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- LaCroix crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his sleeping son. Rajah was curled on the bed that Jenna had previously occupied, clutching the pillow to his face. Faint trails of blood tears snaked down his cheeks and were staining the pillowcase. LaCroix reached down and stroked his Childe's forehead, pushing aside a stray lock of dark hair. His poor, poor Bhadraksh…Rajah. Alone again. Alone after the tantalizing promise of a mate. Thirteen years were but a moment in the passage of time, but it was the last leg of the journey…and always the hardest. …There was no guarantee that Jenna would return Rajah's affections…and no guarantee that Rajah's affections were anything other than desperation…It could well end up as a mating of convenience. LaCroix sighed and exited the bedchamber, leaving his distraught Childe behind. There was no way that Rajah could possibly stay completely away from Jenna for a full thirteen years. Curiosity alone would draw him to her…the convenient excuse of wanting to know if "she was all right". Well, what were fathers for if not to protect their children from their own worst instincts…He would simply have to keep Rajah here with him. A private investigator could keep Rajah abreast of Jenna's progress in school and life. Hopefully the in-depth reports of a PI would take the edge off of Rajah's hunger to know her. They could never satiate that hunger…nothing but Jenna could do that. …Hopefully he could restrain the boy until she was ready. …At least he hadn't tasted her. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Tracy smiled as she remembered the reunion she had witnessed earlier; it was her happiest moment as a Homicide Detective. Such moments, if they happened were for Missing Persons. …According to forensic evidence, Cody Daniels raped Katie Tonson and then for some unknown reason released the leopard from her cage. It is suspected that he did it with the intention that the leopard should kill Katie Tonson and perhaps consume her, thus disposing of any evidence that could link Daniels to the little girl. The autopsy report confirms that Daniels died from wounds subsequent to a leopard attack. Warren Black, the surviving security guard, was released, as the collected evidence did not prove his involvement in the death. As for Jenna Lemieux, there is no information on how she came to be at the scene…and due to her amnesia, no further information is expected at this time. The only thing known in any assurance is that Jenna Lemieux saved Katie Tonson's life when she removed the girl from the scene of the crime and the presence of the leopard. How they escaped from the animal unharmed is also unknown at this time. Tracy dotted the final sentence then studied the report unhappily. It wasn't closed as neatly as she liked, but considering the lack of evidence, the only villain of the piece was Cody Daniels…and he was dead. Well... there was the leopard… The precinct doors slammed open loudly and Tracy looked up as several exhausted looking uniforms trudged in. "How's the hunt going?" she asked, concerned. A youngish man with stubble covering his jaw looked at her with lifeless eyes. "We found her a little while ago. She's dead." "How?" Tracy murmured, saddened, yet still relieved that the crisis was over. The man shrugged. "Nobody knows. And considering the panic that's been growing all night, nobody cares." "Panic?" "We got false sighting reports all night long. Panicked people calling in, sending us on wild goose chases all over the city. Dogs…stray dogs are what they had us hunting. Everyone's so relieved that the leopard scare is over, nobody cares how she died." Tracy frowned thoughtfully. "What about the zoo curator?" The officer shrugged. "Last I saw, the zoo manager was chewing him out. Poor guy…his whole life's in the toilet…kid gets raped, career going up in flames…Sucks to be him." He shook his head, then continued to walk be her desk. "Health officials are already labeling the leopard's death as a quarantine problem." Tracy watched the tired officer stumble on to join his fellows in the locker room. She shook her head, a little sad at the animal's death. She glanced down at the papers on her desk and paused, frowning in puzzlement at the postcard. It was a view of a New York skyscape, the skyscrapers lit up like peculiar candles. She flipped it over to find out who had sent it, but other than her name and work address, there were only two words. I'm fine. Tracy considered the cryptic message and after a moment, smiled. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- Natalie stepped into the loft and immediately located her quarry sitting innocently at his piano, playing a soft tune. "You never called to let me know what happened." He pursed his lips, uncertain of what he could tell her without putting her in danger. Anything to do with an Enforcer was not something he wanted to skate too close to the line on. "LaCroix had no ambitions of transforming a leopard. He's just in an odd mood because another of his children has come to town." "Oh?" "An Eastern man named Rajah." He was silent, knowing that he was coming very close to lying outright. He wanted to tell her more, about the shapechangers and everything else. But he had not gotten the whole tale, only part of it…and that part had made no sense. Any explanation he gave to Natalie would be not only dangerous for her to know, but also, incoherent Natalie paced thoughtfully closer and sat next to him on the piano bench. He was not lying, but he wasn't telling all of the truth either. It hurt when he didn't trust her, but she knew that pushing Nick before he was ready was futile...he would tell her, or he wouldn't, it was as simple as that. She smiled bitter-sweetly. Maybe someday he'd trust her completely. "So how'd it go with Jenna?" He told her what he could…about the reunion, that Jenna had indeed been the Lemieux's long lost daughter. "It was beautiful to see," Nick commented wistfully. "The doctor recommended a specialist living in Montreal. Their hopes of Jenna's eventual and complete recovery from her trauma and amnesia are high. But then, what's a little more hope after their twelve year vigil?" Natalie rested her head against his shoulder as he played. She knew a little about vigils and impossible odds herself. ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- A Week Later "Hello Jenna, Mr. and Mrs. Lemieux." The woman smiled, a gentle curving of her red lips, revealing no teeth. "Doctor Ross told me to expect you. I'm sorry for the lateness of the hour, but the only way I can fit you into my schedule is for your appointments to be at seven p.m." Elizabeth Lemieux smiled at the doctor, liking her friendly aqua eyes. "That's fine. Doctor Ross recommended you as the best doctor for Jenna." She squeezed her daughter's hand reassuringly. "We'd see you at midnight if we had to." The doctor laughed softly and shook her head. "Seven is fine." She held out her hand first to Elizabeth and then to Jenna. "My name is Doctor Joyce Jing-Wei. We're going to be good friends. And I promise Jenna, one day you will be well." Jenna smiled. The End Disclaimers: Forever Knight and its characters are the property of J.Parriott, B. Cohen and Sony/Tristar. The CatPeople and the characters and history of Paul & Irena belong to RKO Universal Pictures. Historical Information regarding the Man-Eater's in LaCroix's radio show came from Man-Eaters by McDougal c. 1991 Excerpts from "Female of the Species" and "The Jungle Book" are by Rupyard Kipling "Self-Pity" was written by D.H. Lawrence "Tyger, Tyger" was written by William Blake All the rest - such as it is, is mine. For those of you interested in the small joke…LaCroix's pager does indeed spell out Nightcrawler, although I would advise against calling. We all know how he hates to be…disturbed. ;) Thanks to my Beta readers : Joy Ristuben ( a non Forever Knight fan - go figure ) Dianne Bugg, Becky Dundee and Bob Sellers, who all put up with an amazing amount of "are you done yet?"s. Flames, comments, virtual catnip may be sent to dlepage@brooks.net or Rehatha@pacbell.net All feedback is welcome.