The Bargain
Christine Hunt
erika1228@aol.com

Now....

     The young vampire trembled at the ecstasy of the act, as the
young man's life force was slowly drained from him. She could taste
the sweetness of his blood, feel the fear that had been all but
obscured by her gentle suggestion, the calm that her large blue
eyes had imparted to him. Her thirst sated, she let him slowly drop
to the ground, opening her eyes to look once more upon the empty
husk that had given her a mere night's sustenance.
     And the sudden horror of it overwhelmed her.
     She stepped back from his limp form, lifting her hand
instinctively to her open mouth. Oh, my God, what have I done? And
as she felt the blood on her lips, the blood that still tasted so
sweet, the mere impulse she felt--the desire for more--terrified
her. She turned away from her victim, wanting to run, no more from
him, than from the monster that she had become.
     And he was there. Her sire. Her tormentor. Her captor.
     LaCroix's face betrayed an amused smile that sickened her.
"You've done well, Natalie. But the night is young. Shall we hunt
some more?"
     And Natalie Lambert's eyes glowed with a silent amber rage.


     The midday sun beat heavily down upon Nick's head, and he
squinted as he made his way down the path. He knew just how many
steps, how far to go, for he had walked through the old cemetery
countless times in the past year and a half. He slipped on dark
sunglasses as he reached the stone, pristine as though it had been
carved yesterday. The sun still hurt his eyes, but the glasses
served a more intimate purpose. For they hid the tears that
surfaced each time he came here, freeing him to mourn privately.
     He knelt upon the grave, his fingers brushing gently across
her name: Natalie Lambert. The June sun had warmed the cool stone,
as it should have warmed him. But the warmth and joy was gone from
his heart, and had been, since she'd been taken from him. 
     "Hi, Nat," he whispered as he placed the red roses in front of
her name. "I didn't want you to think I'd forget your birthday..."
His voice trailed off as he realized with shame that such a simple
gesture had been too difficult for him to remember when she'd been
alive. Did she know that he was here now? Did she know how he had
suffered without her?
     "I miss you," he said softly, then, in a voice cracked with
emotion, "Natalie, why did you have to leave me? Before I could
tell you--" He paused, unable to speak, then blurted, "before I
could tell you I love you!"
     He cried openly now. But as he tasted his own human salt-
tears, the wonder he should have felt at his ability to do so, was
lost. 
     Hours later, he was still sitting upon her grave. Somehow, it
brought him comfort to share the sunlight with her in the only way
he would ever be able to.


Then....

     His face was unusually pallid, his features drawn. The long
day's sleep which should have invigorated him had done nothing of
the sort. Natalie sat cross-legged on the couch, her own food
untouched. She watched him take a small mouthful of the rare steak
she'd prepared for him, chewing it slowly, almost painfully. And as
he laid his fork down in apparent frustration, she touched his arm
lightly. 
     "Nick, are you all right?"
     He turned to her, attempting a weak smile that she knew was
for her benefit alone. "I'm okay. I've just had a hard time keeping
anything down, lately."
     "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were sick," she replied,
unable to hide her concern.
     "Vampires don't get sick, Doctor," he replied mirthlessly.
"You should know that."
     She paused, not sure if she felt at ease with the suggestion
she was about to make. "Nick, maybe I was wrong about going cold
turkey on the blood. If you need a little, just to regain your
strength, it's okay--"
     "No," he broke in sharply. Then, realizing he had snapped at
her, his tone softened. "It wouldn't matter anyway. I can't keep
that down either."
     "Nick, you can't do this--you'll starve!" Her voice was filled
with panic. 
     He lifted a hand to touch her cheek. "Nat, it's okay. I know
what I'm doing." He paused, looking into her eyes in the way that 
always made her heart beat more quickly. "Nat, there are...things
I want--and I can't have them until I'm human."
     She could feel her cheeks burning at his cool touch. There was
no mistaking his meaning this time. Desire coursed through her as
he reached over, brushing his lips lightly against hers, tasting
her warmth, lingering as long as he felt it safe to. Then, slowly,
he pulled away to look into her eyes. "I'm really going to miss you
while you're away."
     And how she wished at that moment that she'd never been
invited to speak at the Medical Symposium in Denmark! "I wish you
could come with me," she dared, then, with a twinkle in her eye,
added, "I hear the nights are very long there this time of year."
     "But all the flights leave during the day," he told her with
obvious regret. Before she could even respond, he added, "I checked
already."
     She looked at him in utter shock. To think he had actually
considered it...
     This time the kiss was bolder, as he pushed himself to the
limits of restraint. Natalie responded as in a dream, knowing that
at any moment she would awaken. And when he finally pulled himself
away, she could see the regret that shone more brilliantly than the
amber in his  impassioned eyes. "Oh, Nat," he whispered in
frustration.
     "There's time," she responded simply, although she'd often
thought of how her own was running out.
     He stood, as if he needed the distance between them now to
cool his desires. "That's just it, Natalie. I'm tired of waiting.
For what? For another cup that LaCroix can break, or copy of the
Abarat that he can burn? There is no miracle cure, Nat, and the
only way I can ever be human is to stay away from the blood!"
     "Nick, I know I've said that," she began, "but look at you.
I'm worried about you. I don't even feel right going away for four
days--"
     "I have to do this, Natalie." He approached her once more, and
she could see that his eyes were again blue as the daytime sky
which he knew only in memory. He put his arms around her, hugging
her tightly. "You go. And enjoy yourself. And maybe if I'm over
this rough spot when you get back, I can take you to dinner."
     "I'll hold you to that," she said softly, smiling as he
reached down to kiss her.


Now....
  
      As Natalie awoke from the peaceful sleep, the taste of Nick
was still on her lips, the touch of his arms about her warming her.
But as reality came crashing back, the beautiful sensations of just
eighteen months ago faded into the past she'd left forever. And as
she thought of him, the blood tears she'd shed so often since
coming over took their familiar path down her cheeks.
     She looked at her watch, realizing that it was barely three in
the afternoon. How easy it would be to step into the sunlight and
end this eternity in hell. Yet she knew that suicide was never an
answer. She'd told Nick that once, hadn't she? And yet she
understood more than ever the despair that had nearly driven him to
seek his own end.
     Enough of these thoughts. It was still daytime, her time to
sleep.   In her sleep, there was no eternal torment, no sadistic
and omnipresent LaCroix...only Nick. She closed her eyes, thinking
of Nick, willing him into her dreams.


     Nick still had trouble getting used to the day shifts he'd
pulled since feigning a miraculous cure of his allergy to the sun.
Schanke had been only too happy to make the switch, and Nick found
that Schanke kept him amused enough to forget his pain, if only
temporarily. Nick had left the sunglasses on, and as he drove up to
the precinct, Schanke was ready with his usual cracks.
     "Gee, don't you look like a regular movie star in the dark
shades and convertible." He hopped into the passenger seat.
"Partner, I dare say you're sunburned. Where were you, today?"
     Nick's slight smile faded. "At the cemetery. Today was Nat's
birthday. I...wanted to stay there with her for a while."
     Schanke became somber. "Man, oh, man, it's been a year and a
half and I still can't believe it. Poor Natalie."
     Nick swallowed. "Yeah." He began to drive.
     Schanke's tone became confidential. "Look, Nick, as a friend,
there's something I've gotta say. I know how you feel, but--"
     "I don't think you have any idea," Nick replied in a hoarse
voice.
     "Yeah, I do. I've got two eyes. I always knew there was
something between you two. Who knows? If she'd lived--" He cut
himself off, as Nick shot him a glance. Even Schanke realized he'd
been heading in a forbidden direction. He tried another tact.
"Nick, the truth is, life has to go on. I don't think she'd want
you to mourn like this. You've got to get out a little--"
     "What are you trying to say, Schank?" he snapped.
     "That you're a young guy, and you've got to try to find some
happiness for yourself."
     If only Schanke knew how long he'd searched for that very
thing!
     Schanke paused for a moment, as if waiting until he thought it
seemed safe, then said, "Have you noticed that hot little number
that joined the precinct last month? Officer Vento? I think her
name is Dina."
     "What about her?" Nick asked coldly.
     "Well, she's been asking me lots of questions...I think she's
interested."
     "Tell her you're married," he replied blandly.
     "Very funny," Schanke replied, encouraged at his partner's
slight sense of humor. "Come on, Nick, you know what I mean. She's
always going over to talk to you--"
     "Police business, Schank. That's all."
     "Nick," he persisted, "Look at it this way. Could it hurt? If
anything, wouldn't it do you good to try to forget?"
     Anger welled in him. "Do you really think that I can forget
her, Schank? Just like that? Do you think I even want to?!"
     Schanke shook his head. "Nick, I'm not saying to forget Nat.
You never will. But you can forget the pain, make it go away, even
if just for a little while. Think about it."
     And this time Nick was silent. For as much as Schanke had
infuriated him, in one thing he was correct. Nick did want to ease
the pain. For if not, it would surely drive him mad.

     Natalie awoke to see the full moon shining brilliantly through
the open shades of her hotel room. It unnerved her at once to know
that LaCroix had been in her room while she'd been sleeping. But
fortunately, in all the various ways he had found to torture her,
rape had not yet been one of them. Thank God for small miracles. 
     She rose, showered, and slipped on the night shirt and sweats
that made her most comfortable. And when she walked out into the
suite, LaCroix was there to greet her with his eyebrow raised.
     "Not quite dressed for hunting tonight, are you? I dare say
that low-cut red dress of yours works wonders at attracting prey."
     She barely glanced at him as she headed into the kitchen area,
reaching for the bottle in the mini-refrigerator.  "I think I'll
eat in tonight, if you don't mind."
     "Ah, but I do mind," he said as he swooped in front of her,
forcing her to look him in the eye.
     "Well, there's nothing I can do about that," she said
steadily. She turned from him, pouring herself a glass of the
animal blood that she'd procured for herself in large supply.
     LaCroix was silently furious for a long moment. But he'd
learned that his newest fledgling was not at all afraid of him.
She'd resigned herself to a life she'd accepted. But he knew from
reading her feelings that her despair was such that she'd most
likely welcome it if he were to end her suffering. To control her
had therefore become quite a challenge. He decided upon another
approach.
     "Natalie, I was hoping that we could go to the theater--or the
symphony--we haven't done that in quite a while."
     She shook her head, then looked at him, a weariness in her
eyes. "LaCroix, after last night--I don't feel up to it."
     "You enjoyed the kill," he told her, savoring it vicariously
as he had the night before. "There's nothing wrong with that. It's
your nature."
     "No. Not my nature. And I can't do it any more." She picked up
the wine glass. "I can get all I need right out of a bottle. I may
have agreed to become this thing you've made me--but I never agreed
to kill."
     "So instead you'll drink animal blood like your friend
Nicholas," he said angrily.
     She shivered inadvertently as LaCroix spoke his name, and
cursed herself silently for once more reminding LaCroix of the only
weapon he could use against her--if he dared to break their
bargain.
     "I suppose next you'll begin looking for a cure? Well, you
know better, Natalie. There is none!"
     And with those bitter words he disappeared through their
window into the night.
     Natalie sighed with relief to see him go. At least now she
could have some peace. She refilled her glass with cow's blood,
understanding how Nick had felt so much more at ease drinking it
than the blood of humans. It was a diet she would adhere to now as
well. Diet! Sort of like having diet soda, she thought to herself.
It doesn't taste quite as good, but you feel a lot better about
yourself drinking it.
     "No cure," she mumbled into the air. And for a moment, with
LaCroix gone, and her thoughts free, she found herself back in the
place where she had found the cure...

Then....

     The Danish scenery was much too beautiful to be shrouded in
darkness for so many hours each day. Why on Earth hadn't the
European Medical Society thought of that when they'd planned their
Symposium for the dead of winter? Yet Natalie couldn't complain.
Cold and dark as the afternoons were here, it had been an honor to
be invited to speak. Besides, an all-expense-paid trip to anywhere
was a welcome change from the stress of her daily grind.
     Yet her thoughts kept returning to Nick--and he had certainly
given her a great deal to think about, hadn't he? Mixed with the
worry over his condition was the excitement over the new direction
their relationship might soon take. If only there had been some way
for him to be with her here, in a land where they could spend most
of the day outside in    the world of the living. She thought again
of the look in his eyes when he'd admitted he'd actually checked
into evening flights...
     She knew now without a doubt that the feelings she'd had for
him all this time were mutual. It was his desire for things he
couldn't have as a vampire that had spurred his sudden yearning for
a quick and complete recovery. She knew by his words, his touch,
and the tenderness in his eyes, that she was part of that
unattainable world he was trying so desperately to reach. And while
the thought excited her, it frightened her as well. For while the
first few days of his abstinence from blood had seemed to fill him
with life, his health had begun to deteriorate within a week. She'd
begged him to slow down, take even small amounts of blood to keep
up his strength. But two and a half years of telling him, "cold
turkey on the hemoglobin" had sunk in. And now she feared she had
been wrong.
     She'd encouraged him to stop for so long, that he saw any
setback as a major failure. She'd given him hope, and, without
realizing it until now, even a goal to work for. Yet it just wasn't
working. In fact, he was becoming weaker every day. Like an
anorexic, who abstained from food for so long that she could no
longer even bear the sight of food, Nick had become as sickened by
the taste of blood as by human nourishment.
     Nick was starving himself to death. And she could provide him
with no alternative, no other cure. As much as she wanted to help
him--as much as she loved him...
     ...she'd failed him.
     Back in her hotel room, the gloomy darkness would not clear
morose thoughts from her mind. She checked her watch. What time was
it in Toronto?  Still daytime. He'd be home.
     She dialed his number, holding her breath, disappointed as the
machine picked up. "Nick, it's me, I just called to see how you
are--"
     "Nat?" The voice that answered was weak, but he was obviously
glad to hear from her. 
     "Hi. How are you feeling?"
     He paused. "Not bad. How was your speech? Did you knock 'em
dead?"
     She told him quickly about how it had gone. "Nick, what about
you? Are you eating?"
     Another pause. "I'm still having some trouble with my stomach,
but...it'll pass. I'm sure."
     "Nick," she said softly, her concern apparent.
     "Maybe I just miss your cooking," he teased her, then became
serious. "I miss you, Nat. I don't think I've ever gone this long
without seeing you."
     "I'll be home soon," she told him. "Take care of yourself,
okay? I'm not letting you forget that dinner."
     "You too. I'll be waiting at the airport. Have a safe trip."
     They said their good-byes, and as Natalie set down the
receiver she remained pensive. As much as his tender words had
warmed her, there was something terribly wrong with him.
     She wished she could go home now! And even more, she wished
she could find a way to help him!
     She thought of the irony of spending four days at a European
Pathologists' Conference. With all the diseases they had discussed,
all the treatments and cures, there was one cure that still eluded
her.
     The cure for vampirism. Now imagine if she brought up that
one! Would all these great minds be able to find an answer to that?

     She thought about this more as she sat in the hotel bar,
sipping a wine glass filled with White Zinfandel. All about her,
pathologists from around the world were socializing as was
customary at these conferences. In the past, it was something she
had enjoyed, but right now, she was only interested in passing time
until her flight.
     Suddenly, she became aware of a young man staring at her.
Under different circumstances, she might have found him attractive,
with his dark hair and piercing eyes, set against a skin that was
almost as pale as Nick's...But that was it, wasn't it? For the last
few months her interest in anyone but Nick had waned. She smiled to
herself to think that perhaps she hadn't wasted her efforts as much
as she'd thought...
     "Hello." The young man was slipping into the seat next to her
before she even realized it. Ugh, I really don't want to have to
deal with this now!
     "Dr. Lambert, may I join you? Dr. John Cromwell," he
introduced himself with a thick British accent. "I'm a Forensic
Pathologist in London."
     Natalie smiled, a bit relieved that his approach was on a
professional level. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Cromwell."
     "John, please."
     "Natalie."
     "I so enjoyed your presentation. I must tell you that
generally I find these things terribly tedious, but you made some 
quite valid points I'd never considered."
     "Thank you," she replied. "So, why do you come if you don't
really enjoy these conferences? The chance to travel?"
     "Research, actually. Not exactly anything related to my work,
but rather a hobby of mine. I study ancient pathologies. The cures
used by the Egyptians, as well as the early civilizations in
Mesopotamia, for example, often went far beyond what we would have
expected for the time period. There's some indications that the
Phoenicians might even have had a cure for cancer--" He paused,
realizing that he was getting involved. "Oh, I'm sorry, I do go
on."
     "No, that's okay, I find the whole thing very interesting,"
she said earnestly. "What do you hope to find in Denmark?"
     "Currently I'm researching some of the medical beliefs of the
pre-Indo-Europeans. It's fascinating how their cures were so
heavily steeped in their religious beliefs. Much like the
civilizations in the Tigris-Euphrates area."
     Natalie listened, fascinated, as he described some of the
discoveries he'd made. In the next hour she learned much about him-
-his background in ancient languages, as well as a paper he'd
published on possible treatments for AIDS that might be derived
from Egyptian elixirs used to boost the immune system. But it
wasn't until about midnight, and maybe four glasses of wine later,
that a totally impossible idea occurred to her.
     "John, have you ever come across an ancient book called the
Abarat?"
     She tried not to make it obvious how important this question
was to her. But she couldn't help but take in a short breath as he
responded.
     "Why, of course," he said at once, although by his expression
she knew that she had taken him off guard. "I must admit that I'm
quite impressed that you would have even heard of it. It's much
more obscure than the Necronomicon, or other books of the sort."
     "Oh, well, my best friend is really interested in the occult,"
she supplied quickly. "and told me that it had all kinds of strange
rituals, like--what was it? Let me think. Oh, yes, there was
something about a cure for vampirism..."
     Natalie knew she was a terrible liar, and she was relieved
when John laughed.
     "What rubbish! Don't tell me this friend of yours actually
believes in vampires!"
     "He's a policeman--not very intellectual, you know."
     "I'm surprised you would have anything in common with him,
then," Cromwell replied.
     Natalie smiled sweetly. "Oh, he's got his good points."
     "Well, we all have our vagaries. I must say, most of my
colleagues think I'm wasting my time."
     Natalie could easily see how most of the medical community
would probably view Cromwell as a crackpot--but then, what would
they think of her trying to make a vampire human? "Then, the
Abarat--you've seen it?" she asked, trying to get back to the
subject.
     Cromwell shook his head. "No, but I do know that there were
several copies. I'll tell you what--tomorrow I was going to skip
the conferences to go to the University Library. It's supposedly
quite extensive. Would you like to come along? Maybe I could help
you find something for your friend."
      Natalie tried to conceal her excitement as she agreed to meet
him the next day, then excused herself to get a good night's sleep.
In her room once more, she had to fight the urge to call Nick. This
could be the cure!
     But it might not be. And she would tell him nothing until she
was sure.



     The library system at the University was huge, and Natalie was
grateful for John's knowledge of Danish, among other languages.
They'd spent six hours searching through catalogs, computer
records, and shelves. Their efforts were to no avail. And Natalie
began to curse herself for being so foolish as to think that she
could find something by chance in one afternoon that Nick had
searched for for centuries.
     Finally, John turned to her in defeat. "I'm sorry, Natalie, I
don't think it's here."
     "John, please, why don't you ask someone. Maybe it's not
catalogued..." She knew it was unlikely, but at this point she
didn't even care if her desperation was obvious. If there were any
chance...
     The first young woman had never even heard of it. The second
librarian, a middle-aged woman with horn-rimmed glasses, simply
referred them back to the computer. Finally, Cromwell spoke to an
old man who had to be in his seventies. They exchanged a few words
in Danish, and suddenly John smiled. Natalie knew they'd hit pay
dirt.
     "There are some ancient volumes they don't even keep in
circulation because they're so rare. The younger workers don't even
know about them, but he's been here for fifty years, and he's seen
it!"
     Natalie held her breath and whispered a silent prayer as the
old man led them to a small room in the library's basement, where
the walls were lined with dusty tomes. After a few moments, he
handed them an old book that looked to be falling to pieces. The
old man gave them some instructions, then sat to wait while John
looked through it.
     "Can you read it?" Natalie asked anxiously, taking out her
notebook. She knew that such rare books could not be photocopied.
Whatever were the relevant passages, she'd have to copy them by
hand.
     Cromwell didn't answer as he flipped carefully through the
pages. Finally, a look of satisfaction crossed his face, the
expression of a scientist who'd just found the answer to a puzzle.
"Here it is," he said, laying the book down gently. "This passage.
It says, the cure to vampirism is quite simple, but requires one
important element--"
     "What is it?" she asked, holding her breath.
     "The consent of the sire--the vampire that made the one who
wishes to use the cure."
     Natalie's heart fell, and she fought to conceal her despair.
LaCroix's consent?! "What is the actual cure?" she asked steadily.
She still had to know.
     John skimmed the passage. "It says that you must take a
chalice full of the blood of the sire--bring it to a boil, adding
a clove of garlic. Lay the chalice outside as the sun begins to
rise...and leave it there for a full day. At sunset the vampire who
wishes to become human must consume this blood, or what's left of
it." He looked up. "Seems simple enough. Imagine."
     "Yes, very simple," Natalie mumbled. But she was already busy
carefully copying the ritual.


     Later, as she sat on the jet bound for Toronto, she considered
what she should do. She knew the cure! But it required something
that would be impossible to obtain--the consent of the very being
who had pursued Nick for centuries precisely trying to keep him in
the darkness. It was worse than having found no cure at all.
     And for that reason, she would never tell Nick.



Now....

     Natalie wondered now if she had made the right decision.
Should she have told Nick immediately what she had learned? Had she
had the right to make the decision herself, a decision that would
affect both of them forever?
      Her eyes began to burn with her own anger over what her life
had become. But as she found solace in the blood, and in her
knowledge that Nick was alive, and human, and would someday lead a
happy life, she knew that it had been worth it. 
      If only she didn't know that her own pain would be eternal.
      She lay the glass down on the table, stretching out on her
bed once more. Back to sleep, and escape from her reality.

     Schanke's words had affected Nick deeply. He couldn't help but
wonder why he was finding it so difficult to get on with his life.
He'd lost countless loved ones in the past.
     But had it ever hurt so much?
     He didn't think so.
     Was it because he was human now? Were all his emotions more
pronounced, his pain exacerbated by his mortality? Or had time been
so meaningless before to him, that he truly didn't know when to
stop grieving? All he knew was that he felt as if he would never
stop, never recover from the loss of her.
     Perhaps it was just Natalie, and the fact that she had meant
more to him than anyone in the past eight hundred years. 
      He went over to the painting, gingerly pulling away the cloth
that kept it hidden from the rest of the world. He'd painted it
just a week after her death, before the realization had deadened
his senses, when the memory of her large blue eyes, her flowing
hair, and her alluring smile, had sustained the hope in him that it
was only a nightmare from which he would awaken. How many times had
he stared at her, and closed his eyes to feel her there with him?
Had it been his imagination, or had he felt her spirit close to
him? He didn't know. 
      How could Schanke expect him to forget? And yet, he knew that
his own happiness had been paramount to Natalie. Always. What would
she say to see him now, suffering, refusing to live?
      His life would be short now. And he knew that it would pain
her to know that he was not living it to the fullest, experiencing
all that he had dreamed of...
      Yet she had been a part of his dreams. Could he find peace,
could he attain happiness, without her?
      I'll try, Natalie, he said softly. For you.


      "I guarantee, Dina. Trust me." Schanke's tone was
confidential as he spoke to the pretty brunette officer.
      Dina Vento shook her head dubiously. "Schanke, I tell you,
he's not interested."
      "Look, he's been through a rough time," Schanke explained.
"He lost someone he was very close to, and, well, you know--he just
needs a little push."
      "Maybe he doesn't want to be pushed," she replied dryly.
      "He does. I know him better than anybody." He paused, looking
up as his partner entered the precinct. He lowered his voice.
"Look, there he is. This is your chance. Really. Go ahead. Ask
him."
      The young woman took a deep breath as the veteran officer
nearly thrust her in the direction of Nick Knight. Schanke was an
incredible busy-body, but she could tell that his intentions were
good. Besides, Detective Knight had caught her eye from day One. A
gorgeous guy like that, who was straight and unattached? It seemed
too good to be true. There had to be something wrong with him! But
it was worth a try.
      "Nick?"
      He looked up at her with those blue eyes, and that smile that
could melt an iceberg. Yes, definitely worth a try. "Uh, I was
wondering if you're doing anything later--after the shift--I
thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat."
      He seemed to think a moment, but finally answered, "Sure.
That would be fun."
      Dina smiled at him, almost too surprised to reply. She'd
thought of all the tactful answers if his response had been no, but
this caught her totally off guard.  
      And in the corner of her eye, she could see Schanke watching
with a look of satisfaction on his face.


      The late-night snack had been nowhere near as difficult as
he'd thought it would be. Dina had turned out to be enjoyable
company, with a quick wit and an easy-going temperament. Though not
as intelligent or educated as he would have liked, she was fun to
be with, and she did manage to take his mind off of his pain for
the evening.
      He'd driven her to her apartment, on the other side of town.
When she seemed surprised at his offer to walk her to the door, he
couldn't help but wonder what type of men she'd been used to.
      "Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?" she asked
innocuously. But he knew there was more to the invitation than a
hot cup of coffee.
      "Id better be going," he told her, feeling awkward at the
disappointment on her face. "Look, Dina, I had a nice time. I'd
like to get together again--if you would."
      She smiled, and before he knew it she was answering with a
kiss. To his own surprise, he felt himself responding. So long
since he had kissed someone without the worry of his vampire
emerging...
      Yet his pleasure was overshadowed by guilt--a sense of
betrayal. He separated from her. "I'll...see you tomorrow at work."
      And as he drove home, it was with mixed feelings.



      Nick could not know that his evening had been closely
monitored. For as a human, he no longer felt the bond which had
always alerted him to the presence of LaCroix.
      LaCroix had seen everything. And his smile was sinister as he
realized how nicely things were all falling into place.


     Natalie hadn't even realized that she'd drunk an entire bottle
of blood. It seemed that her hunger was insatiable, and she thought
grimly of what LaCroix had once taught her--that animal blood would
only minimally sustain them. Human blood alone would completely
satisfy their needs. At the time, she'd thought he was lying,
merely trying to train her in the lifestyle that was his. But to
her horror, she'd learned that it was true. 
     When she'd first been brought over, she'd resisted his urging
to kill. But LaCroix had taken from her the animal blood she'd
procured, starving her to the point of frenzy. And when he'd
brought her to the park that fateful night, hunger had overtaken
her, and a homeless man had become her first victim. The taste had
been so sweet, the blood invigorating her, bringing her to an
ecstasy that was beyond words. In that moment, her despair had
flooded from her as swiftly as her hunger, and she had felt truly
free.
     But her joy had been short-lived. For as the realization of
her heinous act had hit her, she'd sunken into a depression the
depths of which she'd never imagined possible. Even LaCroix had
left her to herself, seeing that his constant harassment would not
persuade her to kill again. Finally, one morning, as she lay
quietly on the bed, weakened by two weeks of abstinence, LaCroix
had entered her room silently, placing a bottle at her bedside. It
had been human, true. But she'd been grateful to see that for the
time being, at least, he would not push her again.
     Then how had last night happened?
     Had it been a moment of weakness, of resignation? Had it been
the fact that the cow's blood simply did not satisfy the hunger
that seemed to always burn inside of her? She wasn't sure. But the
young man in the cafe had seemed so appealing, drawing her to him
in ways she didn't fully understand. He'd asked her to take a walk.
Had she known what she would do? Probably. Why hadn't she cared?
Why hadn't she stopped herself?
     He'd begun to kiss her, and her first instinct was that she
didn't want this, not with him. A vision of Nick had crossed her
mind, as she'd remembered the last night she'd spent with him
before LaCroix had taken her away. And as she'd imagined Nick's
lips gently caressing her, his arms wrapping around her, the hunger
became unbearable. Before she'd realized it, she'd sunken her teeth
into the young man's neck, drinking urgently as the warm blood
flowed past her lips...
     LaCroix's words of encouragement made her own shame almost too
much to bear. Perhaps that was why she could not think of going
anywhere with him tonight. He must think I can do it now, that I'll
do it again. I won't! I can't!
     The image of the young man lying dead before her would live
with her forever. The first time she had killed, she had been
inexperienced, young, starving, uncontrolled. The second time,
she'd done it for the pure ecstasy, the hunger.
     The thought was more than she could stand.
     With new  resolve, she tore open another bottle. She'd have
her fill, no matter how much it took. And she would never again
allow LaCroix, or the curse he had given her, to make her lose
control.


     It was dawn. LaCroix had reached the safety of the hotel suite
just moments before the rising sun could touch him with its deadly
rays. The kill had been so good tonight...yet he knew that in this
day and age, cleaning up after one's meal was more trouble than it
was worth. They'd soon have to move on. In the meantime, a visit to
Janette would not be a bad idea. Allowing her to maintain the
facade of a life in that dull little club of hers did have its
advantages, such as the endless supply of blood that she could
provide through her varying sources. Yes, Janette did come in
handy.
     With the swift and almost imperceptible moves of a cat, he
stole into Natalie's bedroom, heedless of the closed door. There
she lay, asleep beside a table filled with empty bottles of that
putrid swill that she was trying once more to live on. He shouldn't
care. She was serving her purpose, and would help him to bring his
plan to its ultimate conclusion.
     But he did care. And the very fact that he did perturbed him
to no end.
     Natalie Lambert had been a tool, a means to a greater end. At
least, that had been his intention. Yet Natalie had become much
more.  Strong, intelligent, and, most importantly, unafraid of him,
Natalie had proven a real challenge.
     And he did like a good challenge.
     He'd really begun to appreciate what Nicholas must have seen
in her, besides her beauty. There was so much more. And LaCroix had
come to the realization that Natalie could be more to him than a
tool.
     She could be a companion.
     So his plan had changed, or rather taken on a new twist.
Through Natalie he would bring Nicholas back to the fold. But in
doing so, he would make Natalie part of their family as well. 
     She had real potential. He had seen it last night, in the
finesse of her kill. And with the turn that events had taken, he
would see it again very soon.

     Oblivious to the machinations of her sire, Natalie had found
peace once more in dreams. This was her private world, away from
LaCroix, away from the guilt of what he had brought her to...


Then....

     He met her at the airport, waiting anxiously for her at the
gate. She gave him a big smile as she saw him, but her smile
quickly faded as he approached. How he had changed in only four
days! Paler than ever before, he even seemed to have lost weight.
     "Nat!" Even as he called her name, his voice seemed to have
lost some of its strength, and his hug, though tender, seemed a
physical effort. "I missed you," he said in her ear as he held her
close.
     "I missed you, too," she replied, meaning every word. "Hey,
are you okay?"
     "Sure I am," he insisted, just as she expected he would.
     But when she offered to drive, he didn't argue.


     "I stayed home from work today," he admitted as she worked at
the stove. "I was feeling a little...fatigued. I thought maybe I
could use the rest."
     "And some food in your body," she told him, handing him a cup
of clear hot broth. "Here, guaranteed to settle any stomach."
     He obliged by taking a few sips. But it seemed a real effort.
Minutes later, he'd excused himself to go upstairs, and she knew
that he wasn't keeping it down. She met him at the foot of the
stairs, noting with her professional eye the way even walking
seemed a chore for him. She led him right to the couch.
     "Okay, now, why don't you just rest here for a while. I really
want to run some tests on you. I don't have any instruments here,
but I can run home and--"
     "No," he said with all the force she'd heard him muster all
evening. "Come on, Nat, I'm okay. It's just withdrawal."
     "Nick, how can you be sure?" she said worriedly, then added,
"This is so frustrating! I know the problem but have absolutely no
idea how to help you." She caught herself as she once more thought
of the cure in the Abarat. The moment seemed almost ideal to tell
him. And yet what would be the use? Without LaCroix's consent, her
knowledge would be nothing more than a disappointment to him, one
in a string of many.
     "I'll be all right," he was assuring her, playing with her
hand. "Please. Just don't go. Stay here with me, Nat..."
     She settled against his body then, letting him caress her
hair. There was little more that she could do. And there was little
more she wanted to do right now.


     Perhaps it had been Nick's weakened state, perhaps  the
foreboding his illness had left her with. Natalie found herself the
next day at the University of Toronto, speaking to the head of the
Archaeology Department. The aged professor was a legend in his
time, an expert in Mesopotamian civilizations. Perhaps there was
something that John Cromwell had missed; a line misinterpreted
could mean everything.
     But to her chagrin, Cromwell's translation had been exact.
Another dead end. She was glad she hadn't gotten Nick's hopes up by
telling him. She glanced at her watch as she walked outside to see
the December sky turned a deep red by the setting sun. Nick would
be up now. She'd go to check on him.
      A chill ran suddenly down her spine which she knew had
nothing to do with the biting wind. She turned abruptly to see a
tall, pale, blond man standing before her, a pleasant smile seeming
out of place on his face.
     "Why hello, Doctor. How nice to see you again."
     She opened her mouth as if to say that she didn't know him.
But as his eyes met hers in a deep gaze, somehow she knew.
"LaCroix," she said softly, before her mind could even register his
identity.
     He made a slight bow to her. 
     "But...we've never met..." she began, suddenly confused.
     "Perhaps Nicholas has just spoken of me so often that you feel
you must know me," he replied innocently. "In any case, it is a
pleasure to see you, Miss Lambert."
     She didn't trust him. His manner was too suave, too debonair.
And how had she known it was him? "Aren't you up a little early?"
she asked boldly, trying to  conceal her fear.
     He glanced up at the darkening sky. "Age does have its
advantages."
     "What is it you want?" she asked, looking him directly in the
eyes.
     LaCroix glanced down at the notebook in her hands. "To
congratulate you on your find."
     She was about to ask how he had known, but knew that it was a
moot question. "If you know what it is I found, then you know it's
useless."
     He nodded. "For the most part."
     Anger suddenly overtook her. "So if you knew all along,  why
did you keep Nick from seeing it? Why did you burn the copy he
found in Germany if you knew he couldn't use it anyway?"
     LaCroix's eyes lit up with an evil amusement. "So that he'd
keep looking."
     "And never know it was a wild goose chase." Natalie looked at
him in disgust. "You bastard."
     "I'm only looking out for his best interests."
     "If you were, then you'd give him the cure!"
     LaCroix shrugged. "He seems to think he's found his own. But
we both know that's not  true, don't we, Doctor? "
     Natalie tried not to flinch under his piercing glare as she
said softly, "Then you know what's happening to him?"
     LaCroix nodded. "His body is rejecting all nourishment, and
soon it will shut down completely."
     Natalie wanted to scream, but fought to control her rage as
she accused, "And you won't do anything about it. You'll let him
die, rather than release your hold on him."
     "If that's your choice."
     Natalie's mouth opened wide. "My choice?"
     "Yes. I'll be perfectly willing to give my consent--and my
blood." He paused, a malevolent gleam in his eyes. "But the cure
will be very costly--to you."
     Natalie wanted to ask him what price what she would have to
pay to bring Nick back over. But she didn't trust LaCroix. And
she'd heard too much from Nick over the past few years to believe
this was anything but a trick.
     So she resisted the urge to ask what he wanted in return, and
merely replied, "I won't deal with the devil." And she turned to
walk away, not looking back to see if he was following.

     LaCroix let her go, knowing he had stirred her curiosity. "You
will soon, Natalie. It's only a matter of time."
Now....

     Natalie awoke in a cold sweat, to find her pillow soaked with
blood. It was something she'd probably never get used to, and she
threw the pillow on the floor in disgust.
     She hated what she was! And she hated waking from the safety
of sleep to the hard reality of her existence. But another reality
beckoned--
     --she was hungry again.
     It was just after dusk, and as she slipped into the
kitchenette, she hoped LaCroix would be gone. No such luck. He sat
on the couch watching her in disappointment as she ravenously
imbibed the cold blood.
     "When will you learn, Natalie? Do you think that cold dead
swill can ever satisfy you? Does drinking it even compare to the
ecstasy of your last kill?"
     Natalie closed her eyes, biting her lip. The more she begged
him not to  remind her of the young man, the more he would do it
just to incite her. 
     In a blink he was at her side, his hands on her shoulders, his
lips close to her ear. "Come hunt with me tonight, Natalie. Feel
that thrill again. Don't deny what you are..."
     She was motionless, loathing his touch, as she said steadily,
"I won't kill for you, LaCroix."
     "Not for me, Natalie. For yourself. You made the choice to
live forever--"
     "I made the choice to save Nick," she said evenly. "Not to
live forever."
     "And a very good choice it was--for both of you. Why Nicholas
seems to be doing splendidly--"
     She pulled away from him as she shot around to face him, her
eyes growing yellow with fury. "You promised to stay away from
him!" she hissed angrily.
     LaCroix's face feigned innocence. "Oh, but I have. I simply
wanted to see how Nicholas was adjusting to human life. A little
fatherly concern." His smile was suddenly mysterious as he added,
"I think you'd be glad to know that he seems quite happy."
     Natalie looked at him strangely. She knew he was baiting her,
but she wouldn't bite. 
     "Why don't you come and see for yourself?"
     She shook her head. "No. I won't. I want him left alone."
     LaCroix raised his eyebrows. "Alone? Oh, I don't think he's
alone at all. But suit yourself."
     And he swept through the window without another word, leaving
her to wonder what he had meant. And just knowing that she was
playing into his hands by even thinking about it, irked her to no
end.

     The blaring music of The Raven seemed almost unreal to Nick as
the alcohol dulled his senses--and his pain. He'd almost forgotten
how good it was to drink, the calming effect it had always had upon
him. The only thing close had been the blood--but no, there was
nothing like a good stiff drink. And how many new varieties they'd
come up with in the last few centuries! As a youth he'd drunken
himself silly on wine, ale and mead. Now there were different types
of vodka, gin, scotch, liqueurs, even something called
Goldschlager, a cinnamon schnapps liqueur with actual bits of 24
Karat gold! Tonight he'd tasted a few of each, and found that after
seven hundred years, his tolerance was not quite what it used to
be.
     He barely noticed Janette slink over to the table, sliding
into the seat beside him. "Soif, Nicolas?"
     "No, not thirsty anymore--it just tastes good," he replied,
motioning for Alma to bring him another Goldschlager.
     "You know, that stuff could kill you now," she said, her eyes
filled with real concern.
     He reached up to touch her cheek, surprised at how cool it
was, and gave her a kiss. "Thanks for worrying about me, but I
think I've lived quite long enough. Anything now is borrowed time."
     She shook her head, her expression serious. "No, Nicolas.
That's not what you wanted when you became mortal--not what Natalie
wanted for you--"
     He pulled away at the mention of her name, looking away from
Janette and back to his drink.
     "Nick, it's been a year and a half. I know how much you cared
about her, but there's nothing you can do. If you learned anything
in all these years, hasn't it been that we lose those we love and
life goes on?"
     He looked at her bitterly. "Well, I guess you were right,
Janette, when you told me that taking my life seriously, caring
about those around me, would only get me hurt. Are you satisfied?"
     "No, my love, I'm not," she said quickly. "I never wanted to
see you hurt."
     "It just wasn't fair, Janette," he began, the tears coming to
his eyes. "For less than a day--I was happy. She and I were happy.
I began to think we actually had a future together--"
     "I know," she said, putting her arms around him.
     And for a few moments he let her hold him, comfort him. And
when he separated from her, he was ashamed that the alcohol had
brought his emotions to the surface. This wasn't the time or the
place.
     "It's all right," she said, as if sensing his thoughts. "Nick,
I can't lie and tell you that I don't wish you were still one of
us. Then I could be there for you. But you're not, and I can't, at
least not in the way I'd like to. If you want to remain human,
you've got to go on with your life. For yourself, as much as for
Natalie, and what she wanted for you."
     He smiled. "You sound like Schanke."
     "Oh, thank you very much. I try to be nice, and you insult
me."
     "No, it's just that Schanke keeps telling me the same thing.
He's been pushing me to get involved with a woman at work."
     Janette stiffened slightly as she always did at such
prospects. "Do you like her?" she asked.
     He sighed. "I suppose so. We've gone out, and I've spent some
time with her. But I've avoided letting it get--you know."
     She raised her eyebrows. "You?"
     He gave her a nasty look.
     She smiled. "Nick, if you care for her, and if she can bring
you some happiness--"
     He looked at her in surprise. "Is this you telling me to go
off and get involved with another woman?"
     "Nicolas, I told you once before--if it's what makes you
happy, that's what I want for you."
     He nodded appreciatively, giving her another kiss. He knew she
was sincere. "Thank you."
     She leaned back against him for a while as they talked of
other things--his work, her club, and the inevitable.
     "I find it very hard to believe that LaCroix hasn't paid me a
visit."
     Janette agreed. "It worries me, Nicolas. He seems to have
accepted your becoming mortal so easily. It's not like him at all."
     "Have you seen him a lot in the past year?"
     She shook her head as she took a sip of her own drink. "No.
From time to time. But he's pretty much isolated himself from our
society. I've heard he made someone else, a new companion. But no
one knows anything about it. He left the country for a while, but
he's been back for over a month now." She set down her glass,
turning to him. "Nick, please. Be careful. I don't believe he can
ever give up on you completely--and now, I don't know how you'd
protect yourself."
     He patted her hand. "Don't worry. I'm prepared for him. And I
have been for a year and a half."


     For the past three nights, LaCroix had left her alone. And she
couldn't imagine why. Did he expect her to try to see Nick? He had
to know better than that. Even if she'd wanted to, her fear that he
would follow would have stopped her.
     He'd even made sure she'd had a fresh supply of cow's blood;
but here, his motives were clear to her. Unlike Nick, who'd spent
over seven hundred years of learning to control the Vampire within
him, Natalie was still young and undisciplined. Her urges were
sometimes too strong to bear. And try as she did to satisfy her
hunger with the blood of animals, she could not. So strong had her
desire to feed become, that she feared leaving her room for even a
short time. LaCroix knew this, she could tell. And he realized that
the longer she abstained from human blood, the more urgent her
hunger would become.
     That was why she couldn't see Nick. Though she feared for him,
though she wanted to know that he was all right, though she wanted
to protect him from LaCroix--she wanted to protect him from
herself.
     She had no choice. She'd have to trust in LaCroix, and the
bargain they had made... 


Then....

     It had been two weeks since her return from Denmark, and Nick
had gotten progressively worse. Unable to digest either food or
blood, he'd finally allowed her to try feeding him intravenously.
But even that had made him deathly ill, as his body rejected any
and every form of nourishment.  He'd had to take a leave of
absence--work was out of the question. Natalie, too, had taken time
off to be with him, and had temporarily moved into his apartment.
Nick hadn't objected. In fact, though he still refused to admit the
severity of his condition, she knew that he had accepted it.
     He was dying. It was an unspoken truth which they both knew.
And he wanted her with him as much as she wanted to be there. 
     Today, he'd barely had the strength to get out of bed. She'd
urged him to rest, and he'd agreed as long as she would lie next to
him. It wasn't a difficult request. She was exhausted herself,
sleeping only when he was able to catch a few moments of rest. And
despite his weakened conditioned, he still looked so irresistible
in the black silk pajamas...She snuggled beside him only too
gladly, loving the feel of his arms around her.
     She was asleep before she knew it. And when she awoke, she
could feel his hands gently caressing her as he held her, his lips,
so warm now, lightly kissing her forehead. She looked up at him.
"How do you feel?" she whispered.
     His smile was wistful as he replied, "Like I wish I hadn't
waited so long to hold you like this."
     She wanted to tell him they'd have time together. But she
didn't believe it, and she knew he wouldn't either. It was all she
could do to keep from crying as she said his name, then reached up
to kiss him on the lips.  He seemed almost too weak to respond. She
cursed herself silently as the tears began to flow down her cheeks.
     He wiped them away. His eyes were filled with pain, not for
himself, but for her, for them, as he said, "I'm sorry, Nat. I'm
sorry to put you through this. And I'm sorry--"
     "I'm the one who should be sorry, Nick," she said softly.
"That I couldn't help you."
     "Shhh. You did everything you could," he reassured her, then
pulled her closer, into his embrace.
     And as she lost herself in the warmth of him, she cried
harder. And she wanted to scream, No! I didn't!
     And at that moment, she knew that she couldn't bear to lose
him. Whatever it was LaCroix wanted, she would do.

     She'd told Nick she needed to check on Sydney, and had left a
couple of hours before dawn. As she drove in her car towards the
radio station, she turned on CERK, although she knew the voice she
would hear. In fact, Nick's life might depend upon him being there.
     "Hello, gentle listeners. It's time for another visit with the
Night Crawler..."
     It was Natalie's skin that crawled with the sound of his
voice. But at least he was there.
     "This next song is for a dear friend of mine, like a son,
actually...he's been very ill lately...in fact, I'd say his time is
running out..."
     Natalie fumed at his words, stepping down on the accelerator.
     She stormed into the broadcast room, too angry to be afraid.
LaCroix looked up at her and smiled, although there was no surprise
in his expression. He began a tape, flicking off his microphone as
he rose slowly to  face her. It annoyed Natalie to know that he was
taking his time.
     "What a lovely surprise, Doctor Lambert. Is there something I
can do for you?"
     "You can stop using your radio show to taunt Nick, for one,"
she said brusquely.
     "I didn't lie," he said dryly. "His time is running out." He
paused as if to examine her response. "Isn't it?"
     "Yes, it is," she admitted. "So you know what I want. Just
tell me what I have  to do to get it." 
     LaCroix came closer, reaching a hand up to brush her cheek.
She tried not to flinch, and betray the real fear she was beginning
to feel.
     "Such anger, Natalie," LaCroix commented. "Is that any way to
start a relationship?"
     She stared at him in confusion. "What is it you want of me?"
she said, almost afraid to hear his reply.
     "You, Natalie," he said, caressing her neck. "One companion
for another. I will release Nicholas...but you will come to me
freely, and I will bring you over."
     Natalie could feel her cheeks burning, and her legs grow weak.
This couldn't be real. All the things she'd imagined he might want-
-her services as a coroner, her assistance, her body, even her
life. She would have gladly given any of these things for Nick. But
she'd not for one moment imagined that he would ask for her  very
soul.
     "Think of it, Natalie. Eternal life.  A gift, really. Not a
very high price to pay for Nicholas' life."
     Nick's life. She thought of him lying there, near death. He'd
followed her advice, and it had failed. And he was slowly dying
because she couldn't help him. 
     She loved him. More than she'd ever loved anyone. And she
would give anything to save him. Even if it meant condemning
herself to the very existence that he had loathed, and was
literally dying to escape.
     "You can take some time to think about it, if you like,"
LaCroix said genially.
     But there was no time to think, to consider, to waste. And the
bastard damn well knew it.    
     "All right," she  blurted, before she lost her courage to do
so. "But Nick must never know. Ever. He has to think I've died. And
you must leave him alone. Let him live his life in peace.
Otherwise, there's no deal."
     "Agreed," he said, nodding his satisfaction, all the while
favoring her with that sickening smile.
     "And you must give me time--to make sure it works, to see that
he's all right." And to be with him, she didn't add aloud.
     LaCroix's smile faded. "Twenty-four hours. Take it or leave
it."
     He was doing this to torture her, she knew. She had heard
enough from Nick to know that he derived pleasure from the
suffering of others. But she didn't have a choice, did she? Time
was running out. "Okay."
     "Excellent!" LaCroix smiled again, extending his hand. "Then
we have a bargain."
     Reluctantly she shook on it, knowing that LaCroix's word was
probably as a reliable as the weather. But would there be any other
salvation for Nick? She'd have to gamble on LaCroix's keeping his
promise.
     "So, Doctor--when do we begin?"
     Natalie opened her purse, producing a syringe, and enough   
vials to collect the blood she would need. "Now."
     LaCroix nodded appreciatively. "You will be a very interesting
companion indeed."
     And as he extended his arm to her, pulling up his sleeve to
expose the pale white skin beneath, Natalie tried to stop her hands
from shaking long enough to draw his blood.


     Luckily, Nick's windows faced southeast. Natalie let herself
into his loft just minutes before the sky began to grow lighter,
announcing the arrival of the sun. The blinds had not been closed
for two days now, as Nick had not even had the strength to venture
downstairs. Carefully, she opened the window, letting in the cold
air. The old ledge was unusually wide, but for that reason would
suit her purpose just fine.
     She poured LaCroix's blood into a saucepan, heating it over
the fire. The smell was awful, and the chopped up garlic didn't
make it any less putrid. Finally, as it came to a boil, she poured
the mixture into a silver chalice, taking care to get every last
drop.
     She placed the chalice on the ledge, securing it with tape
lest the wind should threaten to knock it over. And she watched as
the sky turned crimson, then pink. Slowly, the rays of the rising
sun crept towards the mixture, and she watched for any reaction.
And as the light hit the goblet filled with LaCroix's blood, she
took in a breath. The blood had begun almost instantly to boil. She
could easily see now why sunlight was so deadly to these creatures.
     Creatures. A creature she would soon become. But she wouldn't
think of that now.
     Quietly, she made her way up the stairs. Nick's eyes opened as
she entered the room, and he smiled weakly. She could tell at once
that his hair was wet, and he'd discarded his pajamas for his
brocade robe. "I had to take a shower," he told her in explanation
as she sat beside him. "But I felt too dizzy--I had to get back in
bed."
     She lay back down beside him. "You should have waited for me.
I could have helped you." 
     His eyes glinted despite his fatigue. "That's a tempting
offer. I'll hold you to it next time." He reached out his arms to
her, and she cuddled against him, loving the soft scent of soap on
his skin. He kissed her with as much passion as he could muster,
then played with her hair as she settled her head against the soft
hairs of his exposed chest. 
     "How do you feel?" she asked for the umpteenth time. It seemed
so critical now to keep him going until the cure would be ready.
     "Weak," he said absently. "Tired. My whole body aches. And no
matter how many blankets you cover me with, I still feel cold."
     She looked  up at him, and reached to touch his forehead. Cool
for a human, and yet burning hot compared to his normal
temperature. She settled back down to listen to his heart, beating
two or three times each minute. Much more often than the once every
ten minutes he was used to, but still below the threshold of human
life. Not vampire, not human. Just struggling somewhere in between.
    "I don't know if I should give you cold or hot," she fretted.
"It's so hard to tell if we want you to get warmer or colder--"   
     "Nat," he interrupted. "It doesn't matter..."
     She looked up at him sharply, but his eyes were filled with a
calm resignation.
     "Natalie, you know there's nothing we can do now. And I don't
have much time left."
     "Stop talking like that!" she admonished.
     He took his face in her hands. "Natalie, we have to face it.
Let's just try to enjoy the time we have left."
     "No!" she insisted, her face wet with tears. "Nick, you've got
to hold on. There's--something--I'm working on. I know it will make
you better."
     "Natalie--"
     "It'll be ready at sunset! Just ten hours. I won't let you
give up, not before you let me try."
     "Okay, okay," he said softly, bringing her face up to his.
Their lips met, and he kissed her until he could feel that she had
calmed down.
     As she separated from him, she looked into his eyes. She
wanted to tell him she loved him, that it would be all right soon,
that he would have all he'd ever wanted--but she couldn't. If he
ever knew what she planned, he would refuse the cure. And she
couldn't let that happen.
     "Is there anything I can get you?" she asked quietly, wishing
there were some way to ease his pain. "Another blanket, maybe?"
     "Just hold me, Nat. Keep me warm. And stay here with me until-
-"
     She cut him off with a kiss, then wrapped her arms around him
to keep him safe until sunset.

     She awoke after what seemed an eternity, a peaceful sleep in
his arms. Worried that it was too late, she looked at her watch. 
Only four-thirty. Still a few minutes until sundown. Careful not to
disturb him, she slipped out of the room, and down the stairs.
      For a moment, she imagined that the goblet might not be
there, taken by LaCroix in a cruel trick. But then she remembered
that it had been daylight, and even LaCroix could not venture
outside when the sun was high in the sky. Gingerly, she reached for
it, and looked inside.
      The blood was thick, coagulated, and it looked as if half had
boiled away. But enough remained. She closed her eyes in a silent
prayer, then headed towards the stairs.
      "Nat?" his voice was calling weakly as she reached the top.
      "I'm right here, Nick," she said as she sat beside him.
      "I didn't know where you went," he said with effort.
      "To get something to help you." She took his hand in hers,
then carefully placed the goblet there, still holding it to help
him support it.
      "What is it?" he asked, looking at the contents in confusion.
      "Just drink it. Trust me." And even as she asked for his
trust, she realized that that was precisely what had brought him to
this point to begin with. But it was so important now that he do
what she asked!
      She smiled slightly to see that his belief in her was still
unwavering. He let her bring the chalice to his lips and took a
sip...
      "UGH!" he cried, pushing it away. "Nat, that's awful! Please,
it'll just make me ill."
      "Listen to me," she commanded him. "You have to drink this.
I don't care how bad it tastes. I'm trying to save your life!"
      He looked at her in surprise, as if not understanding why she
seemed so angry. But the urgency in her voice was enough for him.
He nodded, letting her bring the goblet to his lips once more.
      And suddenly, he began to transform. His eyes glowed yellow,
then red, as his teeth protruded, drawing blood from his own lip.
Natalie stared in horror as his face filled with pain, and he let
out a low growl. My God, what have I done to him! And as his body
began to convulse, she lay hers upon him, restraining him,
comforting him, screaming a silent prayer from the depths of
her soul that this was part of what was supposed to happen.
      And in an instant, it was gone, as quickly as it had set upon
him. Natalie felt his body relax beneath hers, and she slowly sat
up to look upon his face...
      And her tears flowed freely. For the amber-red eyes had
returned to their sky blue, and his cheeks, so long sunken and
pale, were rosy and full of life.
      He was looking at her in a daze, as if he didn't realize what
had happened. She squeezed the hand that she had held throughout
his entire ordeal, then searched for a pulse... seventy-eight...
seventy-nine... eighty...
      His lips slowly formed the question. "What...?" and she took
his hand, placing it on his own chest. She held her hand over it,
smiling through her tears as he felt his own heartbeat.
      "Nat, am I...?'
      "You're human," she told him triumphantly, though her voice
was choked with emotion.
      "But how?" he asked, still too astonished to believe what was
happening to him.
      "It doesn't matter," she whispered in his ear, before her
lips crushed against his.
      And at this moment, it really didn't.


     Nick sat up impatiently in bed while she ran through the usual
barrage of tests--blood pressure, temperature, heart rate. She
shook her head in amazement as she set down the equipment. "It's
unbelievable. You're totally normal."
     "Does that mean you'll let me eat now?"
     She laughed. "You're hungry? After that God-awful drink?"
     "Remember, I haven't eaten in weeks. And I don't think I've
been this hungry for seven centuries." He shot up out of bed with
an energy she hadn't seen in him in a month.
     "Just take it easy, okay?" she said resting her hand on his
arm. "Your body's been through a lot in the last few days. You
probably need to rest."
     Nick wrapped his hands around her waist. The contact made her
weak. "I'm okay, Nat. Thanks to you."
     "So, I suppose you want me to cook you dinner now?" she asked
softly.
     "No," he replied, his expression tender. "I owe you dinner.
Remember?"


     She'd gone back to her house to find an appropriate dress,
and, more importantly, to check on Sydney. And as she held the
chubby gray and white feline in her arms, burying her face in his
fur, she knew it would be the last time she'd see him. And it was
probably at that moment that the weight of what she was about to do
crushed down upon her. 
     The euphoria of seeing Nick well again, human again, had
allowed her to, at least temporarily, forget about what she had
vowed to do. But she knew that her time with Nick was slipping
away. She'd have to make the most of it. For the next few hours
would have to last Nick a lifetime--and her an eternity.
     She set Sydney down reluctantly, undressed and hopped into the
shower. She had the perfect dress in mind--black and tight-fitting,
with a low neckline and high hem line. Not her usual, but she'd
bought it on a whim, hoping someday she'd have a chance to wear it.
The same went for the black lace panties and bra. When was the last
time she'd expected someone to see them? She could feel her own
inadvertent arousal as she imagined Nick exploring her, for the
first time unhindered by the beast whose threat had always held him
back. She wanted him so badly! And she knew for the first time in
her life that he wanted her too, he'd always wanted her, but been
afraid to hurt her. Would he want to take her tonight? She shook
off the thought that made her burn with desire for him. No matter
how much she needed to be with him, she knew she couldn't. For once
he had truly loved her, once she'd felt him inside of her, she
would never have the strength to walk away. And she knew she had
to. Or LaCroix would see to it that his first day as a human would
be his last. She'd done this for Nick. She couldn't indulge her own
wants and desires, even if she knew he shared them.
     She dressed quickly, applied the makeup she'd taken so little
care with over the last few weeks of Nick's illness, and blew out
her hair until it was just right. He liked it down. He'd told her
so.
     Rummaging through a drawer, she quickly chose three pictures--
one of her with her parents and Richard, one with Nick, the last of
Sydney--and slipped them into her purse. They wouldn't be missed,
and they were all she would take with her, as remembrances of her
life. She picked up Sydney, giving him one last kiss. She'd left
him food and water and a clean litter box. "I wonder who'll take
you, Sydney?" she asked the purring cat. "Maybe Grace, or Sarah--
maybe even Nick."
     She whispered, "I love you," and set him down, leaving him to
look at her questioningly as she left him, and her life here, for
the last time.



     "Nat, you look great," he said as he kissed her on the cheek.
The expression on Nick's face told her it had been worth the time
she'd spent getting ready.  "I only wish you'd let me pick you up--
I mean, this is a date, isn't it?"
     She smiled at his chivalry. "I told you we'd only go out
tonight if you rested first." She looked him over, but the
physician in her only confirmed what the woman in her already knew-
-he looked fantastic. His face was full of color, and the fatigue
had left his body. And as he stood next to her in the tan suit, and
blue shirt that matched his eyes, he seemed healthier than ever.
"How do you feel?" she asked anyway, still needing to hear him say
it.
     "I feel...human," he said, still incredulous, then added, with
a twinkle in his eye, "and hungry...like I haven't eaten well in
centuries."
     "Then far be it from me to keep you waiting," she replied,
slipping her hand into his.



     The restaurant was the most expensive in Toronto, and Natalie
was glad that she knew Nick's resources were unlimited. She'd never
seen someone eat so much in her life. Shrimp cocktail, stuffed
artichoke, Caesar salad, filet mignon, baked potatoes, bread...She
sat now in front of a tall chocolate mousse topped with whipped
cream, wondering if she'd ever be able to finish it. She'd begun to
attempt it as the waiter brought over the after-dinner brandy Nick
had ordered, a nine hundred dollar bottle of Remy Martin Louis
XIII, and poured their glasses. Nick lifted hers, offering it to
her, then raised his own. "Shall we make a toast?"
     "To indigestion?" she asked with a pained expression. "God,
Nick, I haven't eaten this much in ages. I'll be busting out of my
dress soon."
     He raised his eyebrows, his smile silently telling her that he
wouldn't mind the prospect at all.
     Her cheeks flushed. "Okay, I'll make a toast. To your new
life." She lifted her glass to meet his, but he held it back.
     "No," he said, looking into her eyes. "To our new life."
     For a moment, she could do nothing more than struggle to
conceal the anguish that wished to engulf her. Fortunately, Nick
moved to kiss her, breaking the gaze that would have broken her.
And as his lips tasted hers, she tried desperately not to tremble
with the pain of her own short-lived joy.
     He came away from her, and his expression was one of
puzzlement. She silently cursed her own inability to hide her
emotions from him, as he asked, "Nat, is everything okay?"
     She forced a smile. And as she concentrated on nothing but her
intense love for him at that moment, she replied with complete
honesty, "Yes. Everything is perfect."

     And it was.  The potent brandy seemed to make all her despair
over what was to come seem centuries away. Tonight and tomorrow
would be endless; she'd live a lifetime with him that she could
cherish for an eternity.
     Nick was human. And terribly in love with her. He didn't need
to say it for her to know; his mortality had freed him from his
repression. Every touch, every gesture, overflowed with the emotion
he'd held back for so long.
     They'd come back to  the loft just before midnight. The door
slid shut behind them, and he took her into his arms, kissing her
deeply. Her pocketbook dropped to the floor as she laced her hands
around his neck, reveling in the feel of his new warmth as their 
bodies pressed together. And as she felt his desire, her own
escalated to an unbearable pitch.
     She'd known that she loved him. But now she knew that she
wanted him more desperately than she'd ever wanted anyone.
     "Let's go upstairs," he whispered in her ear. She shivered as
his lips found her neck, hesitating only slightly before making
their way to her breasts. He'd already begun to unzip her dress,
exposing the lace bra she'd expected no one to see. In a moment,
his hands were there rubbing her, caressing her, releasing her for
his mouth to explore. She gasped with pleasure as he tickled her
with his tongue.
     "Yes," she said softly.
     He looked up at her, kissed her, then led her towards the
stairs. 
     But when they'd made their way halfway up, he stopped
suddenly, grabbing the rail. 
     "Nick--what is it?" she asked worriedly, taking his arm to
steady him.
     He paused a moment, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I
don't know--I got dizzy--all of a sudden. My head--and my stomach--
"
     "It's all right," she said helping him up the rest of the way.
"Come on..."
     She led him to the bed, not exactly the way she'd planned to,
and made him lie down. He looked up at her with concern.
     "Natalie, what is this? The room is spinning--I see--two of
you--You don't think the cure isn't really--"
     She smiled at him tenderly. "It's not the cure, Nick. It's the
alcohol. And the food. You're drunk. And if you get sick now, it'll
be because you ate like a pig."
     He looked up at her sheepishly. "I never thought--I'm not used
to--"
     "Well, you're going to have to get used to it, and remember
when to stop--otherwise you'll make yourself sick--not to mention
fat."
     He shook his head, although from the look on his face, even
that hurt. "I haven't felt like this since the first night I got
drunk--when I was a kid." 
     "Well, that's good," she told him. "It means you really are
human."
     He smiled at the realization. 
     "But you're going to have to take it easy. Your body's not
used to this."
     He reached up to touch her cheek. "Really bad timing, isn't
it? I'm so sorry, Nat. If you knew how much I wanted--"
     She nodded, and in his state he could not even see the sadness
in her eyes as she whispered, "Me too. But you have to rest now."
     "Only if you lie here with me. Let me at least hold you,
please..."
     She complied only too gladly. He pulled her close, and soon
they both fell into a deep sleep.
     At one point, Natalie awoke to find his head resting against
her bare chest. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair.
How exquisite it would have been! But she knew it had been for the
best. Because sober once more, she knew that if he had made love to
her, she'd never be able to let go. She closed her eyes, but willed
herself to stay awake. She didn't want to miss a moment of this.


     When she did awake it was to the touch of his kiss on her
lips, and his hands gently tucking the covers about her. She opened
her eyes to see him sitting across from her, looking down at her
with a smile on his face. "Good morning."
     "Good morning," she mumbled sleepily. He'd obviously been up
and about; his hair was still wet from his shower, and he'd donned
his red brocade robe. Then, as the drowsiness lifted, it hit her.
"Morning? Nick, is the sun up?"
     "Not yet," he replied, playing with her hand. "Soon. But I
wanted to wait for you, anyway. To share it with me."
     She sat up in bed and he hugged her to him. "How do you feel?"
she asked.
     "A little hung-over," he said with a look of amusement on his
face. "But like you said, it's a good sign. It means I'm human." He
kissed her.
     "You'd better take better care of yourself today," she warned,
resting against him. And every day I'm not with you, she added
silently.  
     "I will," he promised. "I don't want anything to cut short our
evening tonight."
     Natalie stiffened as the reality of what would happen today at
sundown hit her; she cursed herself silently for doing so, because
he'd clearly felt it.  
     "Nat, what is it?" he asked, coming away to look at her. "Are
you upset with me?"
     "No," she reassured him, laying back against his chest, and
burying her head there. She didn't have the strength at this moment
to lie to him. "I'm just tired. Maybe I need a shower to wake me
up."
     "Anything you want," he responded as he wrapped his arms
around her. "This is a special day. Our first real day together in
the sun."
     And as he held her just like that, running his fingers through
her hair, she willed herself to take hold of her emotions. Don't
ruin this day, Nat. For him, or for yourself. It's the only one
you'll have. And as much as the horror of that threatened to
paralyze her, she found the courage to smile up at him. "Come on.
We've got a date with the sun."


     She'd showered and dressed quickly, donning the jeans and
sweatshirt that were so different from her attire of last night.
When she came downstairs,  she found that he'd changed into a pair
of jeans himself, and that light blue T-shirt that matched his
eyes. He was waiting by the window, the remote in his hand. 
     "Are you sure we just can't go outside?" he complained like an
anxious little child. 
     "Positive," she replied, coming to stand beside him. "You have
to take this all slow, remember? In fact, you should probably wear
your sunglasses. Your eyes will be sensitive to the light."
     "I will, but later, " he told her. "I just want to see it with
my own eyes for the first time."
     She nodded, excited for him as he raised the remote, pointing
it towards the heavy shades that had protected him, no, imprisoned
him, for so long. He hesitated a moment, looked at her, and she
slipped her hand into his. He squeezed it, then turned his
attention back to the windows as the shades began to open.
     It was still darkness. Yet in the east, Venus was brilliantly
awaiting the glowing orb that would drown it in its luminescence.
As they watched, the cold sky began to turn a shade of crimson, as
the sun crept slowly over the horizon. Nick stood entranced,
staring defiantly at the brightening sky, as he had not dared in
eight centuries.
     "All the colors of the rainbow," he whispered to Natalie, and
she was sure that God had planned this exquisite sunrise just for
them--his first in centuries, and her last. 
     When the sky had turned blue, he stepped forward, letting the
warming rays wash over him.
     "How do you feel?" she asked softly when the sunlight had
reached his face.
     He turned to her, his eyes moist. "Like going outside. Come
on, Nat..." And pulling her by the hand, he nearly ran to the door,
like a little boy about to witness his first snowfall. And as they
left the warehouse that had been his refuge, his prison, for all
these years, he stretched out his arms, closed his eyes and lifted
his head to the sky. "Tell me I'm really here, Nat. That there's no
smoke coming out of my skin--"
     "You're really outside," she assured him. "And no, you're not
setting off any smoke alarms any more."
     He laughed at the pure joy of it, looking around at everything
for the first time in the light. "I forgot how beautiful the world
is..."
     "Hmmm--this neighborhood? Maybe we should take a ride in the
countryside, or by the water--"
     He turned to her. "We'll go everywhere. I want to see
everything in the light..." He paused, looking at her strangely--as
if for the first time.
     "What is it?"
     He brought his hands up to her face. "Natalie, I always knew
you were beautiful. But in the sunlight..."
     Her cheeks grew hot, as his words and his touch warmed her
more than the sun ever could. And as he brought her face to his, he
kissed her passionately, then swirled her about in his excitement.
And she knew then that she would have no regrets. She'd never seen
him so alive, so happy. She had freed him. And that was worth any
price.

Now....

     She smiled now to think of that day, each detail of which was
permanently emblazoned on her mind. An advantage of her vampiric
state, she supposed, perhaps the only one, was that she would never
forget the moments she'd spent with Nick, were she to live an
eternity. Just as if it had been yesterday she could see their
picnic in the park, feel his touch as he'd held her close, his
kiss... She remembered their walk through downtown Toronto,
visiting all the stores that he'd never seen because they closed
before dusk. Her heart had beat rapidly as he'd taken her into the
little jewelry store, asking her to pick something as a remembrance
of today. She'd told him it wasn't necessary, so he'd just chosen
something himself--a large gold heart lined in  sparkling diamonds,
probably over ten karats in total. She'd gasped at the price--
almost $25,000--and refused vehemently to let him buy it. But he'd
insisted, and hadn't blinked an eye when he'd pulled out a credit
card to pay.
     She remembered his warm breath on her neck as he'd fastened it
on her, his light kiss as he'd nuzzled her. How the desire had
coursed through her then! And even now, as she thought back on it,
the memories came alive, and she burned for him...
     Natalie poured another glass of blood, hoping it would calm
her hunger, and her passion, both of which became so inextricably
intertwined whenever she thought of Nick. Absently, she ran her
fingers over the diamond heart, as she had a thousand times since
the last day she'd seen Nick. On a long gold chain, it fell between
her breasts, hidden from LaCroix, and close to her heart. Perhaps
he'd seen the chain, but never questioned it. She would rather die
than let him take it from her.
      What was it they said about all good things coming to an end?
The end for her and Nick had been too abrupt, too soon. Yet it was
the price she'd known she would pay for his happiness.
     Happiness.
     How much happiness had she brought him that night? Only
pain...

     
Then....

     Too soon, she thought to herself with panic as she looked at
her watch. Dusk was rapidly approaching, and with it the end of
what had unquestionably been the happiest day of her life. They'd
come back to the loft when he'd begun to feel his strength giving
way, and as they sat now on the couch, in each other's arms, she'd
tried to close her eyes and imagine that she could stay here
forever. But as the sun had begun to set, she knew that it was
over. How could she ever leave him? How could she bear to lie to
him as she walked out of his life?
     "Do you like your present?" he asked, disturbing her reverie.
     She smiled. "I love it." And I love you, she wanted to tell
him. There were so many things she wanted to tell him but couldn't.
So she merely whispered, "I'll wear it forever." And she would. 
     A few more moments stolen. His hand running through her hair.
His lips tasting her. His arms, such safety in his arms. The room
grew darker.
     "Nick," she finally said softly. "I have to go."
     "Why? Where?" It was inconceivable that she should have to
leave him.
     "Sydney--I want to check on him--I've been away so long--and
if I'm going to ...stay here..."
     Luckily he questioned her no further. He was much too
exhausted and at peace to realize that something was amiss. He
walked her to the door, then helped her with her coat.
     She'd taken nothing with her--how could she? Just the photos
she'd slipped into her bag, and the clothes she was wearing. She'd
decided to look her professional best--the beige skirt and jacket,
with the light blue blouse she often wore to work. She was glad to
leave the black dress behind. She'd bought it for Nick, not
LaCroix. And she shuddered at the thought of him finding her the
least bit attractive.  
     Nick had taken her into his arms, and she fought back the
tears as she kissed him urgently.
     "Are you all right, Nat?" he asked, looking too closely into
her eyes.
     She forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a long
day."
     He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. His
eyes were playful as he said, "Remember, we still have a lot of
celebrating to do tonight." Luckily, his kisses left no room for
response.
     She turned to leave finally, but he called her back.
     "Nat..."
     As she looked back at him, she prayed she could hold herself
together just a few more moments. She waited for him to speak,
seeing something in his expression that he wanted to say.
     "Nick?"
     Whatever it was, he shook it off. "Just hurry back, okay?"
     She promised she would, trying not to choke on the words.
     Only when she had reached the outside did she allow herself to
cry. And then the tears that she'd held back all day came down in
a cascade of emotion. She sat in her car for a full ten minutes
before putting the key in the ignition. It occurred to her that she
wasn't even sure where she was supposed to go. To the radio
station? She'd have to compose herself. She couldn't go to him in
such a state, let him see her like this...
     A cold hand touched her shoulder, chilling her even through
her clothes, giving her a start. But she didn't have to turn her
head to know who was there.
     "There, there, my dear," he said in her ear. "You mustn't cry.
Why, a whole new life is about to begin..."
     But Natalie knew that any life she had ever had or cared about
was over.

     LaCroix had arranged everything. He'd instructed her to
drive to a deserted stretch of road where a pale man, clearly a
vampire, had awaited them. There, they'd switched cars. On the
way to his hotel room, LaCroix had explained that her car would
be found demolished, the body of a young woman charred beyond
recognition in the blaze. She'd insisted on knowing everything--
was an innocent person to die to perpetrate this ruse? But no.
He'd assured her that the woman was no more than another victim
to be disposed of--and this was as good a way as any.
     She stood now in his room at the Toronto Hilton, a huge
suite that he'd indefinitely rented with his immense resources.
Her heart beat rapidly as she tried to calm herself. This had
been her choice. This was the reason Nick was human now. Yet
resigned as she was to her fate, the thought of what LaCroix was
about to do to her terrified her.
     "Nicholas seems to be getting on quite well," he said all
too pleasantly. "I trust you enjoyed your day?"
     She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing any detail
of her last moments with Nick. She merely replied, "You promised
to stay away from him. I trust that that's still part of our
deal?"
     "Why, of course. I am true to my word. Now, is there
anything I can have brought to you? A drink perhaps. You seem
nervous."
     "Just get on with it," she said steadily, her face betraying
her hatred for him.
     "As you like." He stood from the bed where he'd been
sitting,  and held out his hand as if to call her to him.
     Natalie stepped towards him, determined to conceal her fear,
her pain. But she was afraid she would fail miserably. She
slipped off her jacket, then slowly unbuttoned the top of her
blouse enough to expose her neck. She shivered as he came to
stand behind her, touching her neck lightly with his icy fingers.
     She felt his breath at the back of her neck as he brought
his lips there. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to bite
her...
     But instead, he began kissing her! She took in a short
breath in surprise, in revulsion. He's playing with me, trying to
scare me, she thought to herself. She trembled with trepidation
as his hand reached to the front of her blouse, effortlessly
ripping it open. He pulled in down to expose her shoulder,
caressing her with his hand as his lips continued to taste her
skin. His hand moved down to her breast, as he began to fondle
her roughly.
     Her face grew crimson in a mixture of embarrassment and
anger. "Is this really necessary?"
     "I thought I'd make this as pleasurable as possible..."
he said with an feigned innocence that sickened her.
     "For whom?" she retorted. "There's nothing you could do to
me that I would enjoy."
     "What a pity," he said sarcastically, then, in a voice that
became as aggressive as his caress, added, "For my pleasure
then."
     "You enjoy controlling people," she said boldly. "Degrading
them..."
     He spun her around to face him. His eyes were glowing amber
as he said, "Let me make this perfectly clear to you, Dr.
Lambert. I am about to give you the gift of eternal life...power
beyond your dreams. From this moment on, you are mine, to do with
as I please. If you find that degrading..." he said, grabbing
onto her once more, just to demonstrate that he could, "then that
is your problem entirely."
     With that he threw his lips against hers, forcing her into a
kiss. She tried to back away but he held her firmly against him,
even as she felt his teeth beginning to protrude, drawing blood
from her lips. His eyes were a blazing red as he came away from
her, his expression manic as he growled, "If this is how you want
it, then have it your way..."
     And before she could react, his mouth was on her neck, his
teeth biting into her flesh. So sudden was the attack, and so
searing the pain that her scream was lost as it reached her lips.
Her heart cried out in panic as she felt her very life essence
being drawn from her body with the rush of blood. Soon, she was
too close to unconsciousness to feel the pain that had been
excruciating just moments before. And she knew she was dying.
     As in a dream, she could feel him lifting her up, placing
her on the bed.
     "Your blood is so sweet, Natalie," she could hear him say.
"Nicholas is a fool for not having taken you all this time. How
he managed to restrain himself, I will never understand."
     No, you couldn't understand, she thought to herself.
Suddenly his breath was at her neck once more. She wouldn't look.
She'd keep her eyes closed, pray for release...
     "You're dying, Natalie," he said softly, matter-of-factly.
     With the last bit of strength she could muster, she
whispered, "Then let...me...die..."
     She could feel his hand on her cheek. "Ah, but what a waste
that would be. And it would alter our bargain..."
     She forced her eyes open slowly to look up at him. His face
had returned to normal, yet the evil remained.
     "He's human, now, you know. Destroying him would be like
swatting a fly--"
     "No..." she managed.
     "Then tell me you want me to bring you over, Natalie," he
said insistently. "Beg me..."
     There was no time to think, no question of what she had to
do. Despite the fear, the revulsion of him, there had never been
a question.
     "Yes...please...please..."
     And she knew she'd just signed away her soul. But she'd
bought Nick his. LaCroix's smile was sickening as he said, "Good.
That's more like it."
     She watched as he ripped open his wrist with his teeth, then
brought it to her lips. How will I ever be able to do this? she
thought dismally.
     But to her horror, as she tasted his blood, she knew at once
that it would be very easy. For her thirst was unbearable, her
hunger to fill her depleted veins with his life-force
uncontrollable. And the taste was so sweet, so rich, so
invigorating...She found her strength rapidly returning as she
grabbed onto his arm, holding it against her mouth as she sought
more and more...
     Suddenly, he pulled his arm away from her. She reached for
it desperately, but  he said firmly, "Enough." She lay back in a
confused daze as he found a wine bottle and drank its contents
down. He took another, and offered it to her. It wasn't the same,
it couldn't compare to the thrill of taking it from him, but it
satisfied her thirst.
     "Now rest, my childe," he said in a fatherly tone, caressing
her hair.
     In the stupor that had clouded her mind to everything but
her hunger, Natalie fell into a deep sleep.


     She awoke feeling thirsty. The room was dark, yet she could
see with a clarity she'd never imagined possible. Instinctively,
she reached for the bottle he had left at her side, drinking it
down...
     And as her head cleared, it all came back to her. She threw
the bottle to the floor in disgust, her fingers trembling as she
touched her mouth, then examined the blood she found there. It
was human. She had drunk human blood and enjoyed it.
     Worse, she had drunk LaCroix's blood and craved more.
     She'd prepared herself for this, or so she'd thought. She'd
resigned to the fact that she would have to drink animal blood to
survive. She'd fooled herself into thinking that she would not
fall prey to the same weakness as Nick had, the same desires.
     But she realized now just how naive she'd been.  She had not
even considered that she might find control even more difficult
than Nick had. She couldn't even now fathom what the extent of
her physical urges would be.
     She looked at the broken bottle on the floor, wishing she
hadn't wasted the nourishment inside. But she vowed at that
moment that she would never drink human blood again. She'd find
animal's blood--she knew Nick's sources. And she would survive,
as he had for so long. Survive until she could find a cure for
herself.
     The memory of LaCroix and the way he had desecrated her came
rushing before her. Even with all Nick had told her, she had not
imagined the humiliation he might put her through. But Nick is
okay. That's all that matters... And as she thought of him, and
began to wonder what he was doing right now, her tears flowed
freely.
     The blood tears stained her blouse, and she cried harder.

Now....

     Natalie thought now of the indignities that LaCroix had
visited upon her. Starving her until he'd driven her to kill the
homeless man. Taking her disguised to her own wake, forcing her
to watch from the sidelines as Nick had cried openly over her
closed casket. She'd wanted to run to him, tell him that she was
all right.
     But she wasn't. She was just as good as dead. Better he
should think that she was.
     She'd done this for Nick, to give him the happiness he'd
always deserved. A small part of her had begged LaCroix to bring
her over precisely so that she could be there to keep an eye on
him, to assure that he would stay away from Nick. Yet she
realized dismally that she had no power to fight LaCroix--and no
power to protect Nick.
     Now, LaCroix had gone to Nick, watched him. She wouldn't let
LaCroix touch him, even if she were to die trying to safeguard
his life.
     She'd sworn to stay away from Nick. Yet she knew now that
she had to see him. She had to know that he was all right, and
that he was truly happy.
     She'd go out with LaCroix, just as he wanted. And the next
time he stalked Nick, she would be there to make sure, in any way
possible, that no harm came to him.
     Nothing else mattered to her now as much as this.

 Then....

     As soon as the door slid shut behind Natalie, he missed her.
He'd gotten so used to having her constantly close by over the
past few weeks. But more than that...
     He loved her desperately. How long had it taken him to admit
that to himself? And when he finally had confessed his love to her,
on that Valentine's Day that seemed ages ago, LaCroix's treachery
had left Nick no choice but to take the memory from her, pretending
that nothing had passed between them. He'd done it to protect her,
to save her life, to spare her the pain of knowing that what had
finally been acknowledged between them could never be, as long as
LaCroix lived. The anguish of it had privately consumed him, but
he'd vowed never to let her know how close they had come to being
happy together.
     But things were so different now. His newfound mortality had
offered him hope of a future, and a life he wanted to share with no
one but her. His condition, as she liked to call it, no longer
existed--and his bond with LaCroix was broken. And while he still
feared that LaCroix might attempt to intrude on his happiness, he'd
already begun to devise ways to protect himself, and Natalie,
should the need arise.
     Yes, the time for him to confess his love to her once more had
arrived, although he was sure that by now, she must know.
     He'd wanted so badly to tell her last night, just as much as
he'd wanted to make love to her. How his body had ached for her!
Just thinking of her now sent a wave of arousal through him. And it
delighted him so, to freely feel those urges without fear that the
vampire would emerge! He'd cursed himself over and over for his
indulgences that had ruined an otherwise perfect evening.
     Then, he'd wanted to tell her this afternoon, when the sun
was shining in her hair, when he'd placed the diamond heart
around her neck. And just as she'd left tonight, he'd wanted to
say, "I love you, Nat"; but the moment would have to be perfect.
     Tonight would be that perfect night. Candlelight dinner, a
quiet evening alone, and he would tell her. Then he'd make love
to her as he'd never made love to anyone before.
     He lay down on the couch to wait for her, thinking once more
of the black dress, the taste of her lips, the softness of her
skin...
     The door slid open. He'd fallen asleep. He raised himself
lazily from the couch, a smile ready for her...
     But it wasn't Nat. It was Schanke, and by the grim look on
his face, he knew at once that something was wrong. "What is it,
Schank?" he asked, jumping up to meet him.
     Schanke's eyes were moist, and Nick's heart began to pound
as he realized that he'd never seen his partner in such a state.
"You'd better sit down, Nick." Schanke's voice was choked with
emotion.
     "Tell me," he commanded, refusing to budge.
     Schanke came close enough to put a hand on his partner's
shoulder. "Nick, it's real bad. Natalie...there's been an
accident."
     "What?!"
     "Her car...ran off the road...the gas tank must have been
punctured because it went up--"
     "Where is she!?" he demanded frantically.
     Schanke looked down. "She's gone, Nick."
     Nick could feel his entire body beginning to shake. "No,
Schank, it can't be--"
     "They IDed the car--it's hers."
     "But did they find her? Did anyone identify her? Why didn't
someone call me to--"
     Schanke looked into his eyes. "Nick--there's nothing left to
identify--"
     "Then they can't prove it was her--maybe someone stole her
car, maybe--" He stopped, knowing he was grasping for straws. But
he didn't care. He grabbed for the phone, punching in memory
one, her home number. "Maybe she's home--that's where she was
headed when she left--"
     Her machine picked up. And as he listened to her voice, her
sweet voice, a chill ran through him. If this was true if Schanke
was right, he'd never hear her voice again, never hold her...
     The recording beeped, and he threw the phone across the
room. "She's not dead, Schank, do you hear me?! She's not dead!"
And he felt his tears hot on his cheeks as he slowly fell into
the chair and Schanke put a hand on his arm to let him know he
was there.
     And that was when the numbness began.


     A few days later, when Sarah held a small memorial service
for her, the numbness was still there. Schanke and Myra were at
his side as he stood before the coffin. They wouldn't let him see
the  charred remains of what had been the woman he would never
cease to love. He'd ranted and raved until the Captain had
reluctantly allowed him to see the pictures from forensics.
     "That's not Natalie," he had whispered over and over. And as
he stood now in front of the closed casket, he said it again.
"That's not her. It can't be. That's why they won't let me see,
Schank. They know that I'll know right away."
     Schanke and Myra had looked at each other helplessly. He
knew they didn't believe him. But it couldn't be Natalie. God
wouldn't do this to them--how could He tear them apart just when
their life together was about to begin?
     "Nick, we're going to get the car. Do you want to wait
here...be alone for a few minutes?"
     He nodded absently, then knelt before the casket. And
somewhere deep inside a small voice told him, Yes, this is her.
And you've lost her. This is your punishment. You never deserved
to be so happy. It was then that his tears flowed uncontrollably.
     A hand on his shoulder brought him from his private grief.
He looked up, expecting to see Schanke...
     ...into the eyes of LaCroix. He stood slowly, facing the man
who under any other circumstances might have evoked fear. But
what could he possibly fear now that he had lost the only thing
that had meaning in his life? "What do you want?" he asked
wearily, heedless of the tears on his face.
     "To express my sympathy, of course," LaCroix responded in
complete seriousness. "I know how much you loved her."
     "Get the hell away from me," Nick told him, turning back to
the casket. If LaCroix killed him right then, he wouldn't care.
So what was there to fear?
     "Just remember, Nicholas. Ashes to ashes. You'll join her
some day. That's the nature of being mortal."
     The sooner the better, Nick thought silently to himself.
When he turned around once more, LaCroix was gone.


Now....

     Nick felt a weight on his chest, as if someone were walking
across his body. His eyes opened, and Sydney was staring at him.
He smiled in spite of himself, petting the cat between the eyes,
in that perfect spot that made him purr the loudest.
     "You know I was thinking about her, don't you Sydney?" he
said as the gray and white feline lay down on his chest, burying
his head in Nick's neck. He patted him on the stomach. "You
always know."
     He remembered that day when he'd decided to take Sydney.
He'd gone to visit him each day since Natalie's death, knowing
that Nat would want him to. And that day that Sarah had asked her
to come to the apartment, to go through her things...
     "Nick, is there anything you want, to, uh, remember her by?"
     At first he'd thought not. Then he'd seen so many of the
things that Nat had loved. Her tiny gold heart that she'd worn
around her neck until recently, a ring he'd given her, some
pictures...He'd cried as he'd gone through them, as he hadn't
cried in hundreds of years. And each photo that he found of her
he slipped into his pocket, knowing that in the months, even
years to come, it would bring warm memories and tears to his eyes
just to look at them. Finally, as he'd put together a small
package of things to take home, Sydney had come over to him, much
friendlier  since they'd bonded over the last two weeks.
     "Sarah?" he'd called. "What are you going to do with
Sydney?"
     "I don't know, Nick. I'd like to take him, but I've got two
dogs. Maybe Grace?"
     He'd taken the cat in his arms as he'd offered, "Why don't
you let me take him? Nat... loved him a lot. It's the least I can
do for her."
      And that was how Sydney had come to live with him. Nick had
never regretted his decision. If anything, the companionship had
kept him from going insane with his grief. For he talked to
Sydney every day--and he was positive that the cat knew exactly
what he was saying.
     "What do you  think I should do, Sydney? Everyone thinks I
should go out with that girl--but how can I, when all I can think
about is Natalie?"
     "MEOW!" Sydney replied.
     Nick sighed. If only he understood what that meant. Maybe
then he'd know what to do....

     It was just before dawn when LaCroix came in, the blood of
the kill fresh on his lips.  He looked at her with the same disdain
as always.  "So, have you had an exciting night as always?" he
sneered at her. His eyes, still amber, no longer frightened her,
and he knew it.
     "Actually, no," she told him. "I've been thinking that I'd
take you up on your offer to go out tomorrow night."
     He smiled malevolently, stepping up to tower over her. "You
can't fool me," he warned. "Why don't you tell me the real reason
you've suddenly decided to come out of seclusion. You want to see
him, don't you?"
     She looked up at him defiantly. "I know you can read my
thoughts, so I won't bother. Yes, I want to see him. I need to know
he's all right."
     LaCroix raised his eyebrow. "Are you saying you want to let
him know that you're alive?"
     "No," she said immediately. "You know that goes against our
agreement. I just want to watch him, from afar--see that he's
happy. That's the only way I can move on with my own life."
     "Very well, then.  Tomorrow night." He ran his fingers through
her hair, a habit he was fond of that gave her chills. "And after
you've seen that your precious Nicholas is doing well without you,
perhaps you'll join me in the hunt."
     Natalie didn't answer. She knew she didn't have to. He knew
how she felt, and any protestations would only incur his anger. And
lying, she'd learned, was impossible. Without another word, she
turned towards her room, falling down on the bed in exhaustion.
     The thought that she would see him tomorrow calmed her, and
sleep came easily.


     "So, so...?"
     Schanke's presence had become a real nuisance since he'd taken
on the role of matchmaker.  Always asking, digging, pushing...
     "So, how did it go? Did anything happen? Any action? I've
heard she's really hot to--"
     "Schank, enough already, okay?" Nick tried to ignore him as he
typed a report, but true to form, his partner persisted.
     "Come on, Nick, I'm the one who set you two up. The least you
can do is tell me if you like her--"
     Nick looked up at him. "I like her, okay? She's nice. But
that's all."
     Schanke came right up to his desk as he asked, "Okay, so
when's the next date?"
     Nick slapped his papers down on the desk. "I don't know. But
as soon as I do, I'll let you know."
     "Hey, do I sense a little hostility here? Because I could
just but out--"
     "Do that," Nick replied tersely.
     "--but I won't, because I'm your friend, and I can't stand
seeing you so depressed."
     Nick sighed. It was no use. Schanke would be Schanke, and
there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, he really didn't
mean any harm.... "Look, Schank, it's just that I need some
time..."
     "What you need is female companionship. When was the last time
you spent an evening with a woman?"
     He laughed. "Last night."
     "Am I missing something?"
     He shook his head. "No. It was just Janette. I spent some time
at the Raven, and then she came home with me for a while."
     Schanke raised his eyebrow. "Ah-hah, so there is something
going on with you and--"
     "No, no, we're just friends. She's not...my type. Not anymore,
at least."
     Schanke pulled up a chair, his tone confidential as he said,
"So why don't you give Dina a chance? She's really got the hots for
you.  I can tell these things, trust me--"
     He cut himself off suddenly as the woman in question passed
by.
     "Hi, Nick," she said, as if ignoring his partner altogether.
"I was wondering if you had any plans tonight. I noticed on the
duty roster that we're both off tomorrow, and, well, I really feel
like getting out, but I hate to go alone."
     Nick hesitated a moment before he felt Schanke kick his leg.
Surely taking her out tonight would be worth it just to get Schanke
off his back. Besides, she was very pretty...
     "Sure, Dina, I'm free tonight."
     He wasn't sure who smiled wider, Dina or Schanke.


     Natalie awoke to find LaCroix already dressed and ready to
leave the hotel.
     "Wait, I thought I was going with you tonight!"
     Now that she had determined to see Nick, she was wary of any
time LaCroix tried to go off alone.
     "In time, Natalie. I need to get a fresh supply of blood from
the Raven. Unless you'd like to come?"
     He knew damn well she wouldn't. She couldn't let Janette see
her. She wouldn't waste a heartbeat in telling Nick that she was
alive. She settled back onto the couch. "Okay. I'll wait here. But
when you come back--"
     LaCroix gave her a lovely fake smile. "I wouldn't miss it for
the world."



     Nick and Dina had gone to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner. The
conversation was pleasant, although at times forced. Police talk
came easily--but Nick knew in his heart he didn't have much in
common with this woman. Her tastes, her values, were all late-
twentieth century. And he realized right then that he would always
have a problem developing a meaningful relationship with a woman
who didn't really know who and what he had been. So much of his
life was entwined in his past--he couldn't help always coming back
to the experiences he had lived in his long life. That was the
person he was, even though the vampire was no longer part of him.
It had been so easy with Nat--she had known his life, his soul,
even if sometimes he'd purposely withheld from her the more
gruesome parts of his past. Perhaps it was because he'd cared so
much what she thought of him--he hadn't wanted her to know the full
horror of it. And yet, he knew that she'd always known the things
he'd been afraid to tell her. And she'd loved him anyway....
     He looked into Dina's eyes as she went on about something or
the other. It saddened him to see none of the depth there that he
wanted to see. He could never share his secret with her. She would
never understand. Even if she could, could he ever build a
closeness with anyone as he had had with Natalie?
     He didn't know if he even wanted to.
     Dina had seen him staring into her eyes, and interpreted it as
something else altogether. "Did anyone ever tell you you've got the
most gorgeous blue eyes?" she said bringing her face close to his.
     "Not in the last century or so," he quipped, and she laughed
as if it were a joke.
     "Nick, what do you say we go dancing?" Her hand was on his,
and she began to caress it softly. "A friend of mine told me that
this place called the Raven is really phat..."
     He laughed to hear a vampire hang-out described in such a way.
"If you like gothic, I suppose."
     "I love the whole gothic scene," she told him, and by her
dark brown lipstick, black eyeliner, and dyed jet-black hair
against the paleness of her white skin, he realized it must be so.
If only she'd known she'd been attracted to a former vampire!
     At first he hesitated. The Raven could be a dangerous place.
Yet he'd been there several times in the last year, and had felt
perfectly at home. Perhaps it was because he knew that Janette
would never let harm come to him, or anyone with him. "Okay, sure,"
he said. "Let's go there."
     "You  know the place?' she asked excitedly, as if somehow that
made him  look better in her eyes.
     "Yeah, the owner's a friend of mine."
     He paid the check, and they took off in his car.
     It would be good to go to the Raven. It was one of the few
places he truly felt comfortable these days. And besides, the
alcohol sounded like a great idea right now.

     The blaring music made conversation difficult, and Nick was
glad for that. He'd tried his best to be good company, but it just
wasn't in him. And the alcohol certainly did help to put him at
ease--but a major side affect was that it brought his depression,
ever-lurking, to the surface. He tried to drown it in more, and
soon the room began to take on that surreal look it had had the
night before.
     Janette hadn't come over to them, just watched from afar. He
smiled to himself every time he saw her looking their way. She was
clearly checking Dina out, and wouldn't approach until she'd made
a judgement one way or the other. Other times, this would have
annoyed him, but something made him find it awfully amusing
tonight. Dina didn't seem to notice, too absorbed in the atmosphere
and drink.
     "Do you want to dance?' she asked at one point. He took her
hand and followed her to the dance floor. But when the number
changed to a slow dance, he went to sit, and she pulled him back.
"Oh no, I'm not gonna let you off so easily." Before he knew it
she had put her arms around his neck; and as he held her trim
waist, she pressed against him seductively, moving her body with
the rhythm of the song.
     "Hello, Nicolas..." The song had ended and Janette was upon
them as if she had come out of nowhere. Actually, Nick was
grateful for the excuse to release Dina, whose provocative
movements had made him highly uncomfortable.  Dina looked on
defiantly at Janette as the latter reached up to give Nick a kiss
on the lips. In his inebriated state, he responded with the usual
passion that still earmarked their relationship.
     "Dina, this is Janette, an old friend. Janette, this is
Dina. We work together."
     "Nice to meet you," Dina said with a cordial smile.
     Janette didn't waste the effort of a smile. "The pleasure is
mine. Now didn't you say you were looking for the ladies' room?"
     Dina's stare was confused as Janette looked into her eyes.
"Yes..."
     Janette pointed her in the right direction, saving her smile
for Nick after the other woman had walked off in a daze.
     "That wasn't very nice," Nick scolded her, although somehow
he found still found it all amusing.
     "Dance with me," she commanded, and he complied, not because
she had made the suggestion, but because he wanted to. "So, this
is that woman you were talking about..."
     "I thought you were all for the idea?"
     "I was, until I saw her. Nicolas, she must be twenty five
years old!"
     He sighed wearily. "I am going to always have trouble
finding a woman my age."
     She rolled her eyes. "You were thirty-four when you were
brought over. So try to use that as a guide, all right?"
     He brought her closer to whisper in her ear. "I think you're
just jealous."
     She glared at him. "Nonsense. I just don't approve of her.
At least Natalie was somewhat pretty, and intelligent. This
one..."
     She stopped as his face clouded over at the mention of her
name. "I'm sorry, Nick. But I liked Natalie. I really did."
     "I know," he said quietly, touching her cheek.
     "She was good for you. I just wish you would find someone
more like her."
     He stopped dancing, as the depression came flooding back.
"There isn't anyone like her, Janette. And there never will be."
     He gave her a kiss and went back to his table.
     Time for another drink.

     Janette went back to the bar, more concerned about Nick than
ever. It was true. She had liked Natalie. She had made Nick
happy, and if she had lived, Nick would have had the kind of life
he'd always wanted. But this woman was all wrong for him. And the
worst part was, Nicolas knew it too.
     "Jealous, my dear?" She spun around to see LaCroix.
Preoccupied, she hadn't sensed his approach. She took a deep
breath, fearing that the inevitable confrontation  was about to
take place. She couldn't deal with that now. And Nick was
certainly in no condition to.
     "Leave him alone, LaCroix, please."
     "Our friend seems to be enjoying himself. Is this woman
someone I should know about?"
     Janette shook her head. "She means nothing to him. He's
still trying to work out his grief over what happened to
Natalie."
     LaCroix nodded with feigned sympathy. "Poor Nicholas. Still
in mourning. He certainly does seem to be abusing the alcohol. I
don't remember him being such a heavy drinker when we found him."
     Janette looked him in the eyes, with a boldness she would
never have had courage for if she hadn't been so concerned for
Nick. "LaCroix, I beg you--let him be. He has to find his own
peace. He's lost to us--and even to himself."
     LaCroix raise his eyebrows. "It would seem to me that he
needs us now more than ever. Being human hasn't turned out
exactly as he thought."
     "That's only because of Natalie's death," Janette retorted,
becoming scared now of what LaCroix was scheming.
     "Yes," he said absently. "What a tragedy."
     "I hear you have a new companion..." she ventured, trying to
change the subject. "Why haven't you brought her around?"
     "Oh, she's not quite ready," he replied glancing at Nick.
"But she will be soon." He turned back to Janette. "Don't worry--
I won't seek Nicholas. But the time may come when he wishes to
see me. Let him know I have a suite at the downtown Hilton, under
the name of Burroughs."
     Janette nodded and LaCroix was gone. And she had a terrible
feeling that he had some major plan in the works that was about
to unfold.



     Once more, he'd been in no shape to drive home. Despite her
experience with hypnotic suggestion, Dina's mind was far clearer,
and before he knew it, she had pulled up to his warehouse. He
didn't protest. He certainly wouldn't be able to get himself back
from her place, and he could always call for a cab for her.
     "Come on, I'm dying to see your apartment," she said,
leading him by the hand.  "Schanke told me all about it--"
     He was really beginning to resent Don Schanke at this
moment, but he was too drunk to respond. He was glad he hadn't
changed the door combination in a while, because he'd never have
been able to remember it.  The door slid open, and Dina took his
hand as they went inside.
     And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew this was
going to be a mistake.

     Neither Dina nor Nick had seen the pale creature watching
from across the street. His eyes glowed red in his satisfaction.
This could not be working out more perfectly if he had planned it
himself.
     "Have fun, Nicholas," he said in a mocking tone. "And
remember--we'll be watching you."


     Natalie was waiting anxiously by the door when he returned.
She'd finished off the last of her supply of cow's blood, and
gladly took the bottle LaCroix offered her. She had to have her
fill. It would be the only way to maintain self-control.
     "Come, sweet Natalie," he said all too pleasantly. "Let's
see what your Nicholas has been up to."


     Dina loved his apartment--the high ceilings, antiques,
paintings...Before he could stop her, she'd picked up everything
at least once, quite inquisitive as to how he'd collected so many
things in his brief lifetime. "How old are you, anyway?" she
asked. "Schanke wasn't sure--"
     If only she knew just how little Schanke really knew about
him. "Thirty-four," he blurted without a thought, because Janette
had told him so. Then it occurred to him that he'd been aging
normally for a year. "Thirty-five," he corrected himself.
     She looked at him curiously. "When's your birthday?"
     His memory wasn't that good. It'd been a long time since
he'd celebrated. "Sometime in March, I think," he answered
truthfully.
     Dina shook her head. "You really are out of it," she
commented.
     Suddenly, she spotted it. The white sheet covering it caught
her eyes, and before Nick could grab her arm, she'd uncovered the
painting of Natalie.
     "Did you do this?" she asked in awe. "That's great! Who is
she?"
     He hesitated. No one had seen this, and it angered him that
his privacy had been invaded thus. "Someone--I was very close
to."
     She looked at the painting again, than back at him.
"Natalie?" she guessed.
     Damn Schanke! "Yes," he said, his annoyance apparent, as he
took the sheet to recover the painting. He hesitated a moment.
Once again, the alcohol made her eyes seem almost alive. He
covered it then, more to protect Natalie from seeing this woman
here than from anything else. Guilt overwhelmed him.
     "Nick, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's just that Don
told me about her."
     "What did he tell you?" he snapped.
     She put a hand on his arm to calm him. "Just that she was
very important to you--and she was killed last year."
     He tried to control his emotions as the memories came
rushing back, as they always came rushing  back.  "Did he tell
you that I loved her?" he asked in a hushed whisper.
     She came closer to him, dangerously close. "I know you did.
I can see that." Her hand had gone up to his cheek, but he gently
grabbed her wrist, holding it back.
     "Look, Dina, I'm sorry. But you've got to know the truth--
I'm not over this. I won't be for a very long time."
     "That's okay," she said, lacing her fingers around his neck.
"We all carry pain, Nick. Just let me have a chance to try to
help you get over yours..." And with that she brought her lips to
his, kissing him passionately as she pressed her body against
his, the same way as she had done on the dance floor. And beyond
his control, his body began to respond...
     "I haven't seen the upstairs yet," she whispered in his ear.
"What's there?"
     "Just the bedroom," he responded, as she kissed his neck,
although somehow, he knew Schanke had already told her that.
     "Show me," she said, taking his hand.

     Dina's eyes lit up as she saw his bed, neatly made with the
red and black satin sheets and comforter that were his favorites.
She sat down, running her fingers along the pillow. "Satin. I like
that. Very sexy."
     She reached out he hand and he took it, letting her pull him
down to sit beside her. "I never really thought about it," he said.
     "Nothing like lying naked on satin," she told him as she
nuzzled at his neck. "You really should try it sometime." With her
arms around him, she gently pushed him down to lie with her.
     His head was spinning, his senses confused from the drink. He
could feel his own arousal, try as he might to fight it. Everything
was happening so quickly, as in a dream...
     "Dina," he breathed heavily  as she began to unbutton his
shirt. "I don't...want this now. I'm not ready..."
     She giggled in response as her hand went to the bulge in his
pants. "Yes you are, Nick. You want me. Don't you see?"
     And he did want her. But how could he possibly explain to her
that it was a purely physical need, a result of almost 800 years of
abstinence from the kind of sexual contact that mortals enjoyed? A
sexual desire borne of the year and a half of frustration over the
unconsummated love that he and Natalie had almost shared, but of
which they'd been deprived.
     No, his heart and his soul did not want this. But his physical
urges were too strong, his will too weakened by the alcohol in his
system to resist what she was offering him so freely.
     Her fingers fluttered lightly down his chest, his stomach,
working now on his belt, his zipper. He gasped as she released him,
fondling him, sending waves of desire through his body.
     "Oh yeah, you want me all right..." she said huskily as she
toyed with him.
     His lips crushed against hers, and she thrust her tongue into
his mouth, exploring him. His hands took on a life of their own,
ravaging her soft flesh. He reached under the black tank top she'd
been wearing, only to confirm what he had suspected all night--that
she wore nothing beneath. She moaned in pleasure as he caressed her
breasts, finally pulling away her shirt, leaving her exposed for
his mouth to discover.
     "Do you see how much I want you..." she whispered. "Touch me,
Nick..." And with that she guided his hand between her thighs.
     He reached up, shocked to find nothing but her warm wetness.
The pure decadence of it excited him, making his desire almost too
much to bear.
     Yet with it came guilt. This was wrong. A betrayal. To
Natalie. To himself. And even to Dina.
     Dina was talking to him now, asking something about condoms.
"I don't have..." he managed. How to explain that he'd never even
used one?
     With a kiss, she told him she'd be right back, and he lay
against the pillows, closing his eyes. Still the room reeled about
him. Now was the time to stop it. I can't do this...
     But then she was back, touching him again, taking him in her
mouth. And just as he felt he would explode from the sensation, she
moved away. He could feel her placing the condom on him now, then
laying down to face him.
     "I'll make you forget everything," she promised, bringing her
lips to his again.
     And as he looked into her eyes, he knew just how wrong this
was. She couldn't make him forget. No one could. And sex with her
would never assuage his unfulfilled desire to make love to Natalie.
     "You will forget," she said, reading his eyes. "Just give me
a chance to show you..." And she lay back on the satin pillows,
beckoning him to take her.
     He felt as if he would burst for want of her. And as she
pulled him on top of her, he knew all restraint was lost. His body
was acting on its own now, heedless of what he knew was a mistake.
He'd lost control as he hadn't since he'd been a vampire. Helpless,
he closed his eyes and did the unthinkable...
     In his mind he saw Natalie. Natalie before him, her flowing
brown hair on his pillow, her large blue eyes sparkling with her
love for him. He saw her as she was that night, with the lacy black
bra that he'd nearly ripped away. He imagined it was Natalie who
lay beneath him, Natalie whom he entered. And the thought of her
empowered him as he thrust urgently into her again an again. And
when she cried out with his eruption, it was Natalie's voice he
heard, and Natalie's arms which held him tightly...

    If only he'd known that Natalie had been there...watching.
LaCroix had brought her here, on the pretext of making sure that
Nick was all right. But what she'd witnessed had torn her apart,
filled her with a rage so uncontrollable that it frightened her.
     There was Nick before her now, touching this woman in ways
she'd only dreamed he might touch her. And as the woman explored
him, teased him, sharing intimacies with him that Natalie and Nick
had never know together, she turned away. "I...can't watch this..."
she said steadily, although blood tears streaked her cheeks.
     But LaCroix held her there, suspended in air outside Nick's
bedroom window, turning her head so that she would be forced to see
every detail of Nick's lovemaking with this woman.
     "He seems to rather enjoy it, doesn't he?" LaCroix asked in
amusement.
     "Please," she begged weakly.
     "No, Natalie, look. See what you've...given him. You made him
human so that he could enjoy these mortal pleasures with harlots
such as that one..."
     "Stop..." she pleaded, trying to look away, but he held her
head tightly in his grasp.
     "Did he ever do that to you, Natalie? Pleasure you that
way...? See the intensity of his lovemaking...the passion as he
thrusts himself into her...Did he ever give any of that passion to
you, the one who loved him enough to give up her soul for him?!"
     Despair and jealousy raged within her. But with it a fury that
LaCroix, and this sight before her, were slowly awakening.
     "Does she deserve this from him, Natalie?" LaCroix continued
to taunt, though his tone was one of sympathy towards her. "Does
she deserve the love he never gave to you?"
     "No!" she growled, breaking free from his grasp. And when she
looked at him, her eyes were glowing a deep red, her fangs
extended, her face contorted in her  anguish and fury.
     LaCroix would not make her watch this. She couldn't. She
couldn't bear to see this woman with Nick in a way that she had
never been. And her rage was matched only by her intense love for
him, and desire.
     Her hunger for him.
     In anger she broke from LaCroix, flying to the street below.
     He did not follow. It was too entertaining to watch what was
going on inside the loft. In any case, the wheels had been set into
motion. All he could do was wait for his plan to unfold.



     With his release had come sobriety, and a realization of what
he had done. The woman lying beside him was a stranger, nothing to
him. And he had used her as an embodiment to his fantasy of the
woman he could never have.
     The worst part was that she knew it. For all her protestations
to the contrary, Nick knew that she'd truly hoped to overwhelm him
so that he would forget Natalie. But she had to know now that it
could never come to pass. He tried to put his arms around her, hold
her as he knew he should. But the feeling was not there, and could
never be. The guilt was as unbearable as his lust had been, and he
swore to himself that he would never use another woman in this way
again.
     "It's my fault, Nick," she said, as if sensing his thoughts.
"I went after you--in a big way. I wanted you. But that wasn't me
you were making love to."
     He had no