Permission to archive with author's name attached granted. Special thanks to Susan Pierce for beta reading the first few segments of this story. Any typos should be blamed on me due to changes made after her proofing. Send all comments, constructive criticism and locations to find the juiciest ratsies to ALibbyp@aol.com. WARNING: This tale does contain some rather disturbing murder scenes involving children, but what kind aren't? Also some naughtiness by vampires. Not me characters, just borrowin' 'em for a bit an' all that jammy-jam. Copyright 1996 Libby Singleton YULETIDE BITES by Libby Singleton <<...So there was neither a watch for the gold chain nor his wife's beloved locks. While the chain could easily be traded for a wrist watch and hair does eventually grow back - on most of us, anyway - the advertised promises of Christmas morning happiness are always replaced with tears and broken toys. <> TJ Buck pulled the heavy quilt over his head. The story on the radio was sort of neat until the voice drifting in from living room started talking about broken toys. TJ didn't like that part at all. Just as he was falling asleep, the boy felt the vibrations of footsteps enter his room. "Daddy?" he asked eagerly, starting to rise up. Maybe he was about to be treated to a special midnight snack or some other sort of surprise, just him and his Dad. Before his eyes could focus in the darkened room, something soft but strong knocked him back to his bed. He kicked and hit, trying to force the object away so he could breathe. Soon, he felt himself falling into a strange, heavy sleep, a really weird kind of darkness. Daddy? <<...Why not just slip a few lumps of coal in an old sock...>> "Before you ask," Natalie whispered when Nick squatted down beside her, "the radio was already on. LaCroix's Christmas spirit seems to fit all this so no one has bothered to turn it off." She gestured with her pen to the three small body bags on the floor in front of her. "Meet the Buck sisters, ages two, four and five. That was T.J., age eight, who greeted you from the stretcher on his way out the door." "Can you tell what happened?" he asked softly, hesitantly. The scene obviously had no less effect on him than on the mortals in the house. "I'm guessing they were smothered with a large pillow the uniforms found over T.J.'s face. A neighbor noticed the front door open, but their dad's car gone. He stepped in to make sure the kids were okay...they weren't." "An understatement if I've ever heard one," Tracy said, switching off the radio. "Sorry, but that Nightcrawler guy is really a creep sometimes. I know you're a fan, Nick, so you really oughta see this." Nick and Nat stood. Nick took a notebook Tracy offered him and started to thumb through it. "Looks like quotes from the past few broadcasts." "Past few weeks is more like it," Tracy said, pointing out a date. "Whoever kept this diary noted he called in last Tuesday night. Bet this belongs to our missing dad, says something about wife dying, leaving him with the kids. Can barely make out his handwriting." "I think I know the call," Nick admitted. "He was upset about his wife being found dead from an overdose. She'd left him with the kids about a month ago. The Nightcrawler said something about moving on to a new life, one focusing on the children." "He said that?" Nat asked. "More or less...something about ties of blood being more permanent than those of love, no matter how ungrateful the children become," Nick mumbled. "You know how he goes off on these tangents. I guess we'll need tapes or transcripts of these broadcasts." "Since you're the fan, Nick, I'll finish up here if Natalie can give me a lift back to headquarters," Tracy offered. "No problem," Nat said. After Tracy wandered off towards the back of the house, Natalie whispered, "Golly, Nick, maybe you can even get his autograph." "Very funny," he muttered. Nick found Vachon and Urs waiting for him when he left LaCroix's sound booth. The tapes obtained the previous night were of little help and he only did the follow up interview because the Captain had insisted. "Hey, Nick, can we talk to you a minute, from the booth?" Vachon asked. The Spaniard sounded unusually wound up. "Sure," he said, following him to the foot of the stage. Since the band was between sets, the crowd, both mortal and vampire had, drifted back to the bar to refill drinks. "Something the matter?" "That's what we were going to ask you," Vachon said. "It's LaCroix," Urs said, her tone very gentle and sincere. "He's really been, well ... the only way I can describe it is 'violent' the past few days. Like he's taking the death of those children hard or something. That's not like him." Nick knew what was bothering Urs: the children were mortal, so LaCroix shouldn't care less. He'd inquired about TJ's latest condition, but more out of curiosity than worry. "Its not the kids, though I sense...something. It'll blow over, always does. He gets moody at times." "Listen, Nick," Vachon said seriously. "He threw Screed down the stairs to the basement yesterday. I know Screed's carouche, but all he did was try to pick up a dancer, one of us, and not even one of the old man's favorites. LaCroix overheard and told him to go find one of his own kind, you know, vermin. Then he nearly threw Urs through a wall." Urs stepped between Vachon and Nick, placing a hand on her master's shoulder. "It was an accident. We were making love. I could tell he was trying to hide something..." "He's always hiding something," Nick interrupted. "He's not usually so obvious about it, even during sex. I tasted something in his blood that really saddened him, then he threw me away very suddenly, breaking my bite before I could get a good sense of what it was." "You hit the wall, hard. I felt it all the way over at my place," Vachon said sharply. "He seemed so quiet, almost embarrassed afterwards. I tried to talk to him, get him to open up a little. Nick, you know how stubborn LaCroix is. He told me to leave." "I'm sorry," Nick said, not really sure how to respond. "He's fond of you." "I know," Urs touched Nick's arm slightly, reassuringly. "He's got a reputation for being a rather rough lover with some of the other dancers, but he's always been a gentleman with me, never forcing anything I didn't want to do. He loves you, Nick. He's shared that with me through his blood. Maybe he'd talk to you." "I doubt it. He's never been real open. Though I guess I can give it a try. I'll swing by when I get off duty. No promises." Urs kissed him. "Thanks. Better get back to work." Nick watched her trot back to her assigned dancing platform. He admired the innocence and kindness she seemed to have managed to keep as a vampire. "I think her gentleness is good for LaCroix." "That may be, Nick, but you're the one always talking to me about responsibility," Vachon said. "Urs and Screed were brought across by me. I know I probably wouldn't have a chance against LaCroix, but I owe them my protection. My own ignorance made Screed a carouche, and my selfishness made Urs one of us. If it comes to staying to keep an eye on Tracy Vetters, or leaving for the safety of my...children, Screed and Urs will win." "Hopefully, it won't come to that," Nick said, hoping he sounded reassuring. "I need to get back to work." "Nothing personal, Nick." "Yeah, I know." He walked slowly back to the Caddy, purposely allowing his thoughts to connect with the link he and LaCroix shared. There was a brief second of sadness, of loneliness...even a hint of regret, before the connection was shoved aside by LaCroix. The contact had been long enough for Nick to realize the reason of the older vampire's mood. Daniel. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> "Such things will happen, Daniel. Your body is merely adjusting to its new condition and there are certain impurities in mortal blood we cannot digest," LaCroix said soothingly. For all his bad points, Nick had to admit his master was good with those newly brought across, even those this early into their mortal years. "We also tend to sleep more soundly, which doesn't help matters, I'm sure. However, the bedding is yours to take care of." "Yes, sir," Daniel mumbled, still ashamed of his accident. Then suddenly he grinned, the mischievous glint the boy had kept from his mortality appearing in his eyes. "Did Nickie ever wet the bed?" "For centuries..." Knowing by the jab that LaCroix was aware of his presence, Nick stepped into the room. "Good evening, Daniel. Ready for a Latin lesson? Or will it be Greek tonight?" "LaCroix is taking me hunting. He said we might even go over to the continent, to a real battle!" "You can't be serious, LaCroix," Nick said. "He's much too young to be exposed to your sick obsessions." "I am ! I want to go with LaCroix! I will!" "You heard the boy, Nicholas. He wants to go with me," LaCroix said with mock resignation. "Modern children, can one do?" "We agreed he should be educated in the classics," Nick argued. "With blood so easily obtainable now from other sources, why is it so important he learn to hunt?" "I've seen the rise and fall of many societies. Not everything is permanent, least of all "bottled" blood. I do agree about his education ... however, he has all eternity to learn languages, music and art. Daniel will come with me this night." Nick reached out and grabbed LaCroix's arm as his master started to leave. "A battlefield is no place for a child!" LaCroix turned slowly. Nick flinched as his master's eyes met his own. "Yes, Daniel is a child, but no longer of the type to which you are referring. He is child, Nicholas, as are you. There are lessons I must teach him, and quite obviously much I've yet to teach you." A fierce backhand sent Nick flying over the bed, head first against the wall. Vampire or not, it hurt and he was forced to lay paralyzed for a moment before he could even look up. "LaCroix! What has happened?" he heard Janette say. "Nickie talked back, he did," Daniel said rather gleefully as Nick climbed to his feet. "You say that with so much pleasure, Daniel. I thought you liked Nicholas." "Oh, yes." The boy went flying into Janette's waiting arms. "I'm sorry, Nickie. Guess I need to start being good so ol' Santa Claus will come, ay?" Daniel winked in his direction. "Who?" LaCroix asked. "You know, Father Christmas." "I don't think he visits our kind," Janette said. "Besides, you have plenty of toys." "He didn't come to me after me Mum died last year either," Daniel snapped, his eyes beginning to glow. "I'm thinking maybe the bloke ain't what he's cracked up to be." "You still believe?" Nick asked. "Whadda mean 'still believe'?" Janette bent down to look Daniel in the eyes. "Maybe Nichola was never good enough for Santa to bring him any goodies, hmmm?" "Could be, huh, Princess!" LaCroix snorted, earning him a dirty look from the woman. "Well, then, Daniel, if she is your princess, Nicholas your knight in shining armor, Santa the bringer of toys to good boys, then what am I?" When Daniel went towards LaCroix, Nick moved to intercept but a slight shake of Janette's head stopped him. The boy took LaCroix's hand in his own, kissing the ring the ancient vampire always wore on his little finger. "You're me father, of course!" The truth stung Nick's heart. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Nick was jarred back to the present when he walked into his Caddy. A sharp, fangs-bared glare silenced the club's vampire door-guard's laughter. "Damn child-proof caps," Captain Joe Reese muttered as the lid to the aspirin bottle finally popped off. He took two, chewing instead of swallowing them whole. A sip of cold coffee followed, leaving him wondering which tasted worse. "According to Natalie's report, the children were definitely smothered. She did get a tissue sample from under the four-year-old's fingernail, but the kid had the beginning of chicken pox, so its probably is from the girl scratching herself. The sample's been sent in for DNA analysis." He took another sip of his coffee. Cold or not, he needed the caffeine. "I had the chicken pox at Christmas. Wasn't much fun," Tracy said softly. "I always seem to get sick around major holidays." "Better than being dead," Reese said sharply. He regretted the harshness, but holiday tragedy or not, it was important the detectives keep their mind on the facts, something he was having enough trouble doing himself. "Nick, have you listened to those tapes again?" "Yeah, twice more. Nothing that would be of any help. Just the faint echo of the radio in the background and one of the kids calling out for 'Daddy.' The Nightcrawler's been cooperating, but said he gets calls like this all the time. People get depressed, can't sleep, turn on the radio and call him..." "And get even more depressed," Reese said. "Stay in touch with him in case anything comes up." "Sure," Knight muttered. He sounded distant, distracted, which was nothing new. Reese had learned to ignore it unless he felt the detective was not focusing on the case. "That's it for now," he said. "Except I'd like to see you a moment longer, Tracy." Knight rose, hesitating a bit before leaving, glancing at Tracy. A good sign of partner loyalty in a pair Reese had originally feared might be a mismatch. "If this is about the paper work, I promise it'll be on your desk by..." "That's okay, this is a big case you're working on right now. I just wanted to discuss you booking off on Christmas Eve." "But I'm not." "Exactly my point, Tracy. I think you should. You push too hard sometimes, never giving yourself a vacation or break. Knight doesn't have any family and always volunteers to work. Let him. Take a day or two off." "I don't know why my father put you up to this, he worked holidays," she said, the exasperation clear in her tone. "I haven't talked to the Commissioner recently," Reese stressed. "I'm giving you the same advice I'm giving several others, go relax, visit your family." "Captain, frankly I'd rather work. You've probably heard my parents...well, they're getting a divorce. If I go see one, I'll offend the other. It's a tough situation." "I understand. Then I'd suggest you spend the holidays with friends or just resting. I'll make this an order if I have to." Tracy smiled with resignation. "You're probably right. I could use some rest, I guess." "Good. As for now, go out there and give Toronto a present a few days early, go catch the asshole who killed these kids." As soon as she'd left his office, he took two more aspirins out of the bottle. < translate into miracles just because it is the 25th of December.>> "Has there ever been a study done to determine if there's a rise in suicides among LaCroix's listeners around holidays?" Natalie asked, as she stripped off her protective gloves, then washed her hands. "He's really in one hell of a bad mood, isn't he?" Surprised at the lack of a reply, she saw Nick was staring off into space. "Nick? Nick? Anyone home in there?" She tapped a fist gently on his head. "Huh?" "LaCroix. Bad mood. Even worse than usual." "Yeah. Some of the...others have pointed it out to me." "You can't sense it?" Natalie asked hopefully. "Of course I can. I guess I just tried to ignore it. Wasn't hard since he was doing a good job of blocking our bond. I tried talking to him last night, but all he'd do is lecture me on my eating habits...Nat, you remember me telling you about Daniel?" "Sure. He's the boy LaCroix brought across during the first World War. You never did finish telling me the story." "World War . LaCroix hasn't mentioned Daniel since then. A few months ago, I was cleaning out some stuff and offered him a few photos of them together. He wouldn't even look." "Why am I not surprised," Natalie said. "Sounded to me like he just made the kid a vampire to get under your skin. Didn't you say he claimed it was an experiment?" Nick shrugged. "At first I'm sure that's what he really thought, to see if it was possible for us to have the 'real family' Janette wanted. Then LaCroix started to bond with Daniel." "Bet was fun for the kid." "It's hard to believe, but LaCroix started spoiling him rotten. Anything Daniel wanted, Daniel got, including undivided attention. In a way, LaCroix was actually a very good father to him, in the vampire sense, anyway." "And the pressure was off you." "More or less. At the time, I thought I was upset about what he'd made Daniel. In retrospect, I have to admit I was a bit jealous of him. Of course as it turned out..." The phone ringing startled Natalie. "Hold that thought, Nick," she requested, reaching to pick up the receiver. "Dr. Lambert." "Hey, this is Fred at the lab..." the familiar voice said hesitantly. "You're not going to believe this...There was a slight accident and, well, the Buck sample was contaminated. We can't run the test." Natalie let out a scream of frustration, all curiosity about Daniel gone. LaCroix tried to read the rest of the newspaper, but his eyes kept drifting back to the headline on the front page: 'Child still in grave condition.' Not that he truly cared about this particular mortal child over any other. The problem was his thoughts kept involuntarily drifting back to Daniel. Though this TJ was several years younger, there was a resemblance between his own lost boy and the school photograph. Same unruly hair which would only stay down when thoroughly greased back, very similar mischievous smiles. Of course the time of year didn't help either, nor the fact the newspaper had published TJ's letter to Santa Claus written as a school project. The ancient vampire disliked the fact he couldn't seem to control his own thoughts and memories. It wasn't like him at all. Why, he'd managed to keep thoughts of another child vampire, his own daughter Divia, buried deep for nearly 2000 years. Divia. No. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and shook his head until his mind was clear. Better. Much better. In time, he'd be able to do the same with Daniel. Perhaps even wipe the boy from his thoughts, considering the very short time Daniel had belonged to him. A light flashed on his sound booth's control panel, indicating he was supposed to be back on the air. He ignored it. The station was used to his eccentricities and would quickly fill in the empty air time. Meanwhile, he'd meditate, enjoying the snack contained in the glass he held - a young vintage, sweet with the high sugar content of an uncontrolled diabetic. Daniel would have enjoyed it. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The boy could not escape his lessons forever, but there was no lack of trying. LaCroix exited his bath one night, intending to spend the night alone. There were certain activities he enjoyed with his female prey he did not wish Daniel to witness, at least not yet - though he no doubt would become aware of that particular part of the vampiric nature sooner or later despite his body's immaturity. However, a quick mental check of all three of his children's whereabouts and moods raised an alarm LaCroix seldom felt. Daniel was not in the house and was on a feeding frenzy. In his haste to track the child, LaCroix nearly collided with Nicholas approaching the upstairs windows from which they usually took flight. "I know," he said before his elder son spoke. The chaos tweaking the family bond was so strong there was no doubt Nicholas was also sensing Daniel. "He said he wanted to get a book from my library for his Latin lesson, then never came back," Nicholas explained. "Janette immediately went looking for him." " Obviously she didn't find..." The knowledge his youngest was in pain suddenly hit LaCroix like the morning sun. The urgency to get to Daniel, to protect him, was pure instinct and he did not try to fight it. The pain strengthened his bond with the boy, allowing him to hone in on Daniel's location. Nicholas followed, barely keeping up with his more powerful master. There was not enough blood left in the eight or so bodies for LaCroix to think of the scene as a blood bath. However, Daniel was viciously tearing at the throat of a now deceased caroler despite the burns on his face and hands being caused by a crucifix. Fortunately, the light rain which had started falling and the lateness of the hour had apparently combined with the threat of air raids to cease foot traffic so there were no live mortals about. Within a fraction of a second, LaCroix was yanking the boy off the corpse, or attempting to. He shook Daniel violently until he loosened his bite, spinning around to snarl at his master. LaCroix slapped the boy, not with the same full force he used on Nicholas, but hard enough to knock the child back to his senses. Yet, Daniel still spat and hissed, trying to get back to his meal. The barest embers of panic began to spark in LaCroix's stomach. He raised the child in the air, once again shaking him with as much force as he dared. "You snap out of this fury, Daniel! You've overfed and are suffering the consequences!" he snarled. "He's out of control, LaCroix!" Nicholas said, squeezing his shoulder firmly. "He is too young to control himself." LaCroix jerked away from Nicholas' touch, hugging the child tightly, attempting to control Daniel's struggles. "Then I will him! He will learn, Nicholas. Daniel learn." "And what if he doesn't? The Enforcers will..." "Need I remind you I have dealt with the Enforcers?" The memory was all too fresh in LaCroix's mind, dating from the previous century when a mortal had managed to take a photograph of him flying over a Civil War battlefield. Nicholas had typically refused to take of the mortal himself. To save his son, he'd offered himself to the Enforcers. Unfortunately, the offer was taken. "I have no desire to ever face them again. Daniel is merely...umph" - the boy managed a kick to his groin area. LaCroix tossed Daniel across the bodies in ever heightening anger at his own inability to calm his child. The boy landed only feet away from Janette. LaCroix was so absorbed with Daniel and Nicholas, he had not felt or seen her arrival. "Daniel!" she said, reaching down to help him up. The child growled at her, then dove for the neck of the nearest body. "What have you done?" Her tone was full of anguish. Janette looked up at LaCroix, her beautiful eyes seeking comfort, for him to answer in the boy's place. How could he speak what he refused to believe himself? Nicholas moved to her side, embracing her tenderly, though he, too, was now gazing at his master. "Daniel is trying to feed from the lifeless." His tone was soft, matter-of-fact, though LaCroix could sense the accusation. "If you cannot do what be done..." LaCroix looked around for anything to use as a stake. He heard Janette's quiet sobbing of "No. Not my Daniel" and Nicholas' soothing hushes and kisses. "Damn you, Nicholas," he growled to himself. "Princess? Don't cry, Princess." Daniel tried to stand, but stumbled. LaCroix sighed, allowing himself a slight smile. Out of control vampires did not recover so quickly. He scooped the boy up; the child was simply too tired to support himself. "You've been very, very naughty." >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Perhaps the term 'naughty' had been a slight understatement, LaCroix thought as he took another sip from his glass. Sheer luck had kept the bodies from being seen before Nicholas and Janette had disposed of them. He'd carried Daniel back to their home, bathing the exhausted child himself to remove the dried blood and grime. The clothes were so filthy they were burned. Of course, he'd also thoroughly lectured Daniel about the dangers of what he'd done. The boy's only explanation had been, "I was 'ungry." Normally, putting new strings on his guitar relaxed Vachon, gave him time to think. Not this time. He'd already broken two new E-strings and just couldn't concentrate on the task. Urs was insisting on staying at The Raven. He supposed he could force her to leave, make her live with him for a while. No, Vachon decided, that just wasn't his style and he sure didn't want to do anything to set off LaCroix's temper. Urs might not know her own strength, but she'd managed to take care of herself in the past. Then Tracy had swung by on her way to the office. She was usually good for a laugh or two, sometimes unintentional. Even she had been in a piss-poor mood. "'Ey, V-man!" Screed shouted as he entered the room. "Saw sweet Baby Jane a bit ago. Said you had something for ol' Screed." "Yeah, that package on the chair." The carouche pounced on the object like it was his dinner, ripping the plain red paper off. "Wha's this? A book with a lot o' scribblin'?" Vachon took the book from Screed, showing him the cover. The rat eater had never learned to read. "'A Pictorial History of Ocean Selling Vessels', that means there's a lot of pictures. She wanted to give you something for taking care of that rat in her apartment." "Told the sweet chicky weren't no problem. Fattest squeaker I ever laid me peepers on, it were." Screed retrieved the book and flipped it open. "Lookie here, V-man! Usta be on a ship like this meself. Ain't worth nothin' at the Vegas bettin' tables, but it'll take me back to me sailin' days," he said wistfully. "Say, whatcha gonna get the sweet morsel?" "Get her?" "For a holiday 'membrace, just to show you care and all that, mate." "A Christmas present? Screed, we aren't exactly the type to celebrate a religious holiday." "Ain't like its Easter with all them crosses. Like to burn me bum just turning 'round. Now sweet Baby Jane, she's a mortal maiden, Vachy, and seemin' rather blue, aye?" So Screed had noticed too. Vachon nodded. "Yeah, family problems. Her parents have split and assumed she'd be spending the holiday with the other. Both made plans to be out of town with friends. I don't think any kind of trinket from me would help there." He felt awkward when Tracy talked about her police commissioner father. Modern troubles were so far removed from those of his own mortal life, he just couldn't relate. "I've got to get to the Raven. You can come along, but stay away from LaCroix." "No problemo there, matey. Next time I go headin' down to the basement, it'll be under me own power, it will." <> "Good grief, Nick, listen to that guy. He's ruining everyone of my favorite Christmas stories," Tracy complained. "I'm surprised he hasn't touched the Nativity." So was Nick. He'd heard LaCroix's opinions on that matter and it would have caused riots in the street. Maybe his master knew better, too much attention to the radio program would bring the Enforcers into Toronto in a matter of hours. "I'll turn it off." His reach for the dial was stopped by Tracy. "No, that's okay. He's matching my mood tonight." Tracy shifted slightly, "Mind if I ask a personal question?" "Not at all." He always got nervous when a mortal asked him that. He turned the radio down a bit. "You don't have any family, right?" "No, not to speak of." "How do you manage to get through the holidays? I mean, I know you usually work, but surely you've got free time. Don't you feel like you're missing out?" "Sometimes. But I've got friends. Last year I spent a few hours at Schanke's, helping him put some of his daughter's gifts together." It wasn't pleasant to remember that Jennie didn't have a father this year. At least his late partner's family was coping well. Myra was even beginning to date a man Nick rather liked. "All my friends either have plans or don't celebrate Christmas." They rode in silence for a while, listening to LaCroix who had dissolved into a rant about what Grinch should have done to the Whovians. <> <> <> Nick exchanged glances with Tracy. There was a real bite in LaCroix's voice, he wanted to play with this caller. He turned the radio back up to normal volume. <> The caller was sobbing. <> <> <> <> LaCroix was being sarcastic. << Didn't think I'd be gone for more than an hour. Started drinking, I knew I shouldn't have. Oh, God. My children.>> LaCroix remained silent, allowing the man's chocking sobs to be heard clearly. If Tracy hadn't been in the Caddy, Nick would've pulled over and taken to the air to reach the sound booth to make sure LaCroix signaled CERK to do a phone trace. <> Nick reached out through his bond, hoping to signal LaCroix to convince the man to do so. What he received back was a feeling of confidence and assurance. <> Moments later the call came over the police radio announcing the suspect could be found at a local convenience store. Reese was home helping his wife put together a bicycle when the call came, Theo Buck was in custody. For once she urged him to rush back to the station, worrying aloud that something might go wrong, that this killer might be set free if he wasn't there to supervise. Problem was, he didn't think Buck was guilty. Not after witnessing the questioning through the observation window. True, the man had left very young children alone in the middle of the night, which in itself was a crime. However, Buck kept dissolving into such hysterics, Nick would have to stop the procedure to calm him enough to talk. "Captain!" Natalie Lambert called down the hall, rushing towards him waving a manilla folder. "We've got the DNA test back." "I thought the sample had been contaminated." "Just so happened Grace didn't send in all that we'd collected. We didn't think there was enough left for a viable test, but Fred at the lab managed a miracle." "And?" "The test shows it was a relative, but the father. Probably a sibling." "Now, Natalie, how can that be possible? You saying one of those kids killed the others then themselves?" "Not exactly. Fred and I think there may be a sibling involved." Reese took the folder and read the report word-for-word. The temptation to just glance over it had to be fought. Since the father faced other charges, he probably wouldn't walk. However, the press would have a field day if announced Theo Buck was no longer a suspect. Reese always "made sure" before he did anything, every good cop did, but he wanted to check and double check his facts in this instance. Keeping the folder, he left Natalie still gazing through the window as he rushed around to enter the room without knocking. He slammed the report down on the table. "Would you mind telling me why you didn't get a babysitter?" Although Reese looked the suspect straight in the eye, he caught the motion of Nick picking up the folder and opening it. "Captain, he's already said he didn't have any money," Tracy replied. "I'm asking you, Detective, I'm asking him." He gazed deeply into Buck's tear filled eyes. "Wasn't there a relative you could have asked to watch them as a favor for just an hour or so. The kids had just lost their mother, surely someone in the family, or maybe a friend, would have stayed with them under the circumstances." Buck's body shook as he shrugged slightly. "Been so wrapped up in my wife's drug problems, really haven't had time to make friends here. We came from Montreal, hoping to get away from her dealers, hoping new surroundings would help. Don't really have any relatives, except for my stepson, Carl. Carl Thompson." "Your wive's son?" Nick asked. "Yeah, had him when she was fifteen. We never really did get along. Always seemed jealous of the babies too." "Did he have a key to your house here?" Reese asked. There had been no signs of forced entry. "No. Not that I wouldn't have given him one if he'd asked. It's just that when we left Montreal, he said he never wanted to see us again. Since he's eighteen, he's old enough to decide for himself." Buck's tone was becoming steadier, the sobs less often. Reese could tell he was beginning to catch on. "I don't know why he would do this...Besides, I'm sure I locked the door. Positive. How would he have gotten inside?" "Do you keep a spare key hidden somewhere?" Tracy asked. Reese had figured Nick would catch onto that point quicker. "Yeah, under a rock at the side of the house. Not one of those fake plastic ones, a real one, figured it was safer." "Where did you keep your spare key in Montreal?" Tracy continued. "Under a rock..." Buck covered his face with his hands. "The same rock. We brought it with us. Thought it'd be easier for the kids to remember." Nick handed the folder over to Tracy. "Do you know where he lives now?" he asked. Buck shrugged, lifting his head to return Nick's gaze. "Some run down rooming house last I heard. The address is in my wallet, I think." "Do you have a recent photograph?" "Should be one at home." "Knight, go see if you can find one," Reese ordered. "I want an APB put out for this kid here and the Montreal police notified. He may have gone back. Get his photograph out to every news organization you can think off. See if the Nightcrawler won't broadcast a description. Tracy, get family services up here to talk with Mr. Buck." He turned to the man. "You understand there'll still be charges against you. Leaving children alone is against the law." "...And stupid," Buck muttered. "Well, I may not be able to let you go, but maybe we can arrange a visit with TJ." He turned back to the detectives who were just staring at him. "Let's get moving, people!" he snapped. They immediately obeyed. Maybe he'd get home in time to help his wife find a good hiding place for that bicycle. Nick waited outside LaCroix's sound booth until his master signaled him to enter. A slight smile greeted him, one that faded when he handed over the copy of the photograph. "This is the person your captain is requesting I describe on my program?" LaCroix challenged. "This is not a most wanted television show, Nicholas." "Would you do it for me? Please?" Nick asked, touching the older vampire's hand slightly. LaCroix would know it was a game to get him to cooperate, but hopefully would play along. "So you can continue your mortal masquerade?" He sighed with exaggeration. "I suppose if I don't, could be charged with interfering in a police investigation." Nick responded with a non-committal shrug along with a half smile of his own. "It might be amusing to see them try, don't you think?" LaCroix leaned back in his chair, grinning a challenge. "No." "What ever happened to your sense of adventure, Nicholas?" He swivelled in his chair to face the microphone, then hit a button on the control panel. "Welcome back, my friends. The Nightcrawler is glad to see you waited despite the unending begging of the advertisers. Tonight a special visitor, Detective ..." LaCroix looked over his shoulder to smirk in his son's direction... "Knight of the Toronto Police Department's Homicide Division, has brought by a photograph of the suspect in the unfortunate incident involving the Buck children. Meet Carl Thompson, the half-brother of the now deceased." Nick reached over LaCroix's shoulder and flipped the photograph so he'd see the information printed on the back. "He is eighteen, approximately six feet in height, brown eyes and hair...Really, Detective Knight, how is anyone suppose to find this evil person with such drab facts?" LaCroix turned the photograph back over. "He appears undernourished, with an extremely thin neck although his arteries protrude nicely, and is in desperate need of a good dermatologist. "This, gentle listeners, brings us full circle to tonight's topic. Is it a wonderful life? Ask the unfortunate Buck children what they think. Someone would be wise to show their step brother what life would be without his existence. No doubt a touching family scene of a father helping his children open numerous Christmas toys - if there were any funds left after 'Mom' brought her supply of drugs..." Nick could take no more. Not bothering to wait until another commercial or CD was played, he left the sound booth, managing to audibly slam the door after him. "Please excuse any background noise..." he mentally heard LaCroix continue. "There is merely an angel trying to earn his wings." >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> "The workmanship is exquisite," LaCroix said, handing Nick a centurion. "Each individual soldier is handcrafted, each face unique. There are very few inaccuracies in uniform or weaponry." LaCroix spun the wheels on a chariot. "This set is quite a work of art for a mere toy, don't you think? At least it will serve to educate our Daniel as well as entertain. A few lessons in strategy and military tactics would suit him." "Really, LaCroix, doesn't Daniel have enough toys?" Their house was becoming positively overrun with playthings, the majority purchased by the older vampire. "You never spoiled Janette or I in this manner." "Forgive me, Nicholas. Was there a special toy you want? A rocking horse perhaps? Or a tricycle? A rattle? The prospect of playing Santa Claus is beginning to amuse me." "Santa Claus? LaCroix, what has gotten into you?" "I might inquire the same of you. I thought you'd certainly agree it would be entertaining to surprise the child." "Of course, but isn't he a bit too old to believe in Santa Claus? Not to mention his recent horrible behavior - unrestrained killing, overfeeding, attacking where he could be seen, temper tantrums..." LaCroix shrugged slightly. "There is another little boy in this house who should grow up and start behaving as well." "I don't know what you are talking about," Nick said in what he hoped was a neutral manner. "I'm referring to your search for mortality after we agreed while you were under my roof, in home, this ridiculous quest would cease." How in the world had he found out? Nick hadn't even told Janette. He could sense LaCroix was merely teasing at the moment, any attempt at an excuse or explanation could send the ancient vampire into angry hysterics so Nick merely stared down at his feet.. His silence worked. LaCroix's tone was gloating. "Yes, I know about the old woman and her alleged expertise in ancient Celtic cures. You..." "LaCroix, LaCroix, she's gonna kill me, she is!" Daniel's shouted, the sound of his running footsteps coming down the hall. Nick and LaCroix scrambled to put the toys back in the box. "Daniel, I'm not going to hurt you. Don't you want to hear about Napoleon's sister?" Nick heard Janette say. The boy, quickly followed by Janette, entered the room just as LaCroix had placed the lid over the toys. The woman managed to grab Daniel's arm. "Le' me go! Le' me go, whore!" Nick yanked the child from Janette's arms and pulled him close. Janette seemed posed to slap Daniel, but merely lifted the child's chin with one finger. "Gentleman use such terms when referring to ladies. ." She turned toward LaCroix. "He didn't like his history lesson." "I want you to teach me, LaCroix, 'bout battles an' all. I don't care about bitches stinkin' o' fish!" "The use of such language will not be tolerated, Daniel," LaCroix said sternly. "Perhaps I have let your lessons go far too long. No hunting tonight. You will take your meal from a bottle while Janette and Nicholas instruct you not only in Latin and Greek, but French and mathematics as well." "You like them better than me! You hate me!" Nick let go, kneeling down to gaze into boy's eyes. "That's not so. He cares very much for you." He tried to put as much reassurance into the statement as he could muster though his heart was not in it. There was no need to look up to know LaCroix now stood over his two sons. "Nicholas is correct for once, my young Daniel. Do you not remember my vow to provide and protect you?" Daniel looked up, his expression defiant. Nick shook his head slightly, trying to warn the boy. LaCroix's tolerance of the child's outburst had grown from amusement to annoyance. "Do you? Don't make me ask again." "You're worse than a Nazi bastard!" "Daniel!" Janette said. "Don't..." LaCroix slapped Daniel with full force, knocking him several feet across the floor. He turned away from the sight. "The boy is obviously cranky and tired," LaCroix snarled. " get him back to bed, Janette. ." Daniel was crying now in pain, the sobs could have come from a mortal boy. He started to speak as Nick helped him to his feet, but remained silent when Nick raised a finger to his lips. "Go with Janette. I'll come and bring your dinner later." Janette hurried Daniel from the room, glancing worriedly in LaCroix's direction, then at Nick. "Be careful," she mouthed. Nick waited until they would be down the hall before approaching his master in hopes of calming him. "Daniel is merely getting use to his new condition, like you've said. As for me, I'll quit seeing the old woman. The potions were foul tasting anyway." And weren't working. LaCroix moved to a window, pulling open the drapes to stare at the stars. "Remarkable how easily a child's innocence can be destroyed. A bit more discipline is called for, I think. As for your old woman, yes, you stop seeing her, of that I'm sure. Her potions were not the only thing about her 'foul tasting'." Nick was struck dumb as his master turned, slapped his shoulder in a buddy-like fashion, and giggled as he left the room. >>>>>>>>>>>>> Though LaCroix's warped sense of fatherhood brought Daniel across, Nick knew he had only himself to blame. He should've seen the action coming in Janette's talk of "having a normal family" and LaCroix's silent but continuous observation of the child when Daniel was still a mortal. "'ey, Detect-a-tive Nickie, me goodest mate outside o' the V-man!" "I'm no 'mate' of yours, Screed," Nick snapped, stepping around the carouche to continue his walk to the Raven's exit. "Okay, be that way, treat poor ol' Screed bad just cause 'e nips the rat nectar stead o' rampagin' cross the countryside doin' way with mortal-types. Or takin' after the old man now, are ya? No more cowsie wowsie sippin'. Want me to move closer to them stairs so you can send me down 'em right proper, aye?" Nick stopped and turned. Screed really did look crestfallen, and to his surprise, had a book tightly tucked under one arm. Despite the fact he normally drank cow's blood, Nick disliked being compared to a carouche. They tended to be wild, dirty, uncivilized beasts. Screed, however well he fit the stereotype, was higher functioning than the norm and Nick rather enjoyed his colorful temperament. "Sorry, had something on my mind." He smiled. Screed grinned back, relaxing noticeably in stance. "Needin' a favor, mate, I am. Runnin' a bit short o' funds and in this sit-e-ation, runnin' to Vachy ain't me best option." Giving Screed money was not high on Nick's favorite past times, especially since this man was not the sort who'd spend it on clothing or housing. Because it was no long possible to hunt mortals on a regular basis, vampires did need cash to buy bottled blood, though that wasn't necessary for one who craved rats. Most likely, Screed would blow it in Vegas or less legal local gambling. "Nickie, if you're wonderin' 'bout me intentions, don't worry your arse. I ain't askin' for a handout. Ya gotcha own abode, Chat-toe Knighty-Knight, and betcha got squeakers, I do. Ain't healthy for yar mortal buds. Black plague and all that, aye? Nasty business for thems that kin die. Screed the Ratsie Terminator atcha service." Screed held out his free hand. "Right, mate?" Nick was so amused he couldn't say no. "Haven't seen any lately, but, sure, you can look." "Me work's guaranteed, it is. I'll bring in me own if I need to, get me a tin whistle an' play the Pie-man Piper, ol' Screed will." Blowing her nose for the umpteenth time since waking up the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Tracy said a silent prayer of thanks for her forced vacation. Buck case or not, she would've had to book off because of this cold, flu or whatever it was, anyway. Resisting the temptation to call in and check up on things, she plopped herself down on the sofa and used the remote to turn on the television. When her shift had ended the previous night, there'd been plenty of leads on Carl Thompson, though nothing was panning out. Oh well, the way she was shivering from fever, Nick was more than welcome to the creep if he showed up. She was flipping between two Christmas specials when the phone rang. "Hello?" "This is your mother." "Oh, hi, Mom, Merry Christmas." "The same to you, dear. Are you sick? You sound awful." "Yeah, just a cold or something. I'll be okay." "Isn't there anyone you can call to come check on you? If you'd take more time off work, maybe you'd have a boyfriend who would at least see to your meals when you're sick." "Mom, I'm fine. I've got lots of soup and plenty of cookies left over from the office party. I won't starve." "I just hate that you're alone this Christmas, but couldn't back out on Beverly. The only reason a nice young lady like you doesn't..." Tracy began flipping channels again with the television on mute, only half listening to her mother's on going anti-cop lecture so she'd know when a reply was needed. How she wished she could tell her, "I've got someone I'm interested in and I think the feeling is mutual only he's a vampire and doesn't celebrate religious holidays even though as a mortal he was Catholic which would make you happy because it'd piss Dad off." She wondered how her mother would react to a vampire son-in-law. Probably lecture him on how worried she was when he flew, knowing something could knock him out of the sky causing him to become impaled on a wooden picket fence. Face it, she thought, Mom will just never understand me. "Listen, Mom, I'm really getting kind of tired so if you don't mind, I'd like to try to get some sleep. Merry Christmas. I love you." "I love you too, dear. Maybe your partner can bring you some cold medicine..." "Have some already. Bye, Mom." She hung up and pulled the blanket tightly around her. Family Christmases were not necessarily a good thing. The steaming water of LaCroix's whirlpool bath gave the illusion of warmth as he read over the Christmas story he planned to discuss on this night's show. It was simple and childish, sickenly sentimental. A perfect climax to the series. Though he took his time dressing, there was still an hour before the Raven opened. He ruled out a quick hunt of the city's alleyways, he had better bottled vintages than the trash he'd find there. After pouring himself such a drink, he settled in his chair to simply relax a few minutes before venturing into the bar area. Shutting his eyes, his let his thoughts drift to Nicholas, thus tightening their bond. His son was just now groggily dragging himself out of bed, still not awake enough to fight the intrusion though very annoyed at something, or someone, for once not himself. A slight tapping at the door disturbed LaCroix's meditation. He took another sip of his drink, relishing the taste of many wonderful stories written by a shy, lonely man but never shared with the world, lost to all once LaCroix finished the bottle. A true waste of talent. The man should have attempted to publish his works. "Yes?" he finally said. Urs stuck her head in the door. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Such a young, beautiful goddess. Intelligent too, though hardly in the way his Fleur had been. Urs was more street than book smart. When he'd set up his telescope one night in an attempt to interest her in the stars, Urs seemed bored of his lesson after only half an hour. A shame, she'd have made a good companion otherwise. LaCroix stood. "Of course not, my dear. Please, come and sit." He poured her a drink. "This is very good! Thanks," she said after sampling the beverage. "I'm glad you like it," he replied simply, settling back in his own chair. From her nervous posture on the edge of the sofa, he determined Urs was here for a purpose. If she fretted over him not having asked her for sex lately, he'd skirt the issue. His recent memories of Daniel were not something to share. As soon as they were back under control, she'd again be invited to his bed. He took another sip, not willing to show any unworthy anticipation of the coming conversation. Finally, growing impatient, he raised his eyebrows inquisitively when she looked up from her drink. "We were listening to the radio a little while ago," she stated. He waited a few seconds for her to continue. "Your point being?" he inquired when she remained silent. "TJ, the little boy who survived that horrible murder...well, they said he opened his eyes this morning. He may have brain damage, but will probably live." Urs moved from the sofa to sit at LaCroix's feet, looking up into his eyes. "Everyone says you don't really care about him, or his sisters, even with the Nightcrawler connection. I don't believe them." "You don't?" LaCroix took her empty glass as he stood, then walked across the room to place it with his along side the bottle. He spoke with his back to Urs. "While to die so young, before experiencing many of the joys of life, is a tragedy, these children were mortal. Mortals die, often at a very young age. Why should I mourn for them? And what sort of life will the damaged child have? Perhaps the Fates did him no favor with his survival." A delicate hand gently touched his arm. LaCroix looked over his shoulder to find Urs smiling, her expression one of ...understanding? The gesture confused him to the point he could think of nothing further to say. "The radio report said a fund is being started to pay for TJ's rehabilitation since his dad didn't have medical insurance. Sam, that new mortal bartender, is taking up a collection. Just about everyone's donating, even our kind." Urs rubbed his arm, stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss, then left him. Why tell him of this? LaCroix was stretched a bit beyond even bafflement by Urs' behavior. Was the alleged charity of this mortal holiday season mutating to become infectious to vampires? Ah, well, the nonsense would all be over in a few days and hopefully his thoughts of his own Christmas horror story with it. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> "Whatdayamean Santa ain't coming!" Daniel screeched at LaCroix. "There is no Santa Claus," he replied firmly. "I've had enough of this nonsense." "I hate you." There was pure venom in his voice. The child looked at Janette and Nicholas. " of you!" "Well, then you will not mind spending some time alone, in your room." "No!" "Yes, now!" The concentration and force required for the command was remarkable. At least it worked, though Daniel kicked the wall all the way to his bedroom. There'd no doubt be several holes left. LaCroix sipped from the goblet he held, allowing himself a chuckle. "That was funny," Janette protested. "Oh, my dear, you've yet to see the punch line, as it were. When he calms down, as he always does, our young Daniel will find several packages from this mysterious man called Santa." "Your little prank goes beyond cruelty, LaCroix!" Nicholas said harshly. "You never could take a joke, Nicholas. Think of his joy when he sees his presents." "That may be so, but right now I'm sensing his anger and hurt. I'm going to him." LaCroix's elder son left the room quickly, no doubt to avoid being stopped by his master. "Perhaps he is right, LaCroix," Janette said, rubbing his shoulders. "Daniel is only a child, with a child's sensibilities. At least Nichola is capable of recognizing one of your pranks as such after it has been completed. I'm not so sure Daniel will understand." LaCroix took another sip. "Cruelty is part of life, Janette." "With the war, the death of his mother, maybe Daniel has had too much already." " Children should learn of life's cruelty young and have the lesson repeated often." "LaCroix, Daniel's gone again! The hallway window is open!" Nicholas called from the door. The search took the better part of an hour. Every time LaCroix honed in on Daniel's location, the child seemed to move, finally settling in a house nearby LaCroix's own, occupied by the wife and daughter of a Captain in the British Navy. Captain Smythe was well-known in the area for having refused to send his three young children to the country where'd they supposedly be safe from air raids. He landed a block away, running with mortal speed to the front door which he found locked. Sensing Daniel's frenzy, LaCroix chose to use his vampiric strength to tear the door from its hinges. He found the three young children huddled together in the corner of the family room, fully decorated for the holiday, complete with numerous fragrant candles. The pale body of Mrs. Smythe lay in a twisted heap nearby. LaCroix could still smell blood within her, though her heart had stopped making it impossible to totally drain her. There was no chance of her coming across though, as it appeared her neck was broken at the beginning of the feeding process. Daniel had used too much force pulling it back to expose the veins. As for the boy, he had a man dressed in a Santa suit forced against the wall. LaCroix recognized Captain Smythe despite the fake white beard. The mortal was shivering with fear as his eyes slowly locked onto LaCroix's. "Help me," the man whispered very hoarsely. "Shut up!" Daniel snarled, backhanding the man with such force LaCroix heard the snap of bone as vertebrae snapped. The body went limp. Dead like his wife. "Wake up!" the boy said, violently shaking the body. "You ain't brought me gifts yet, you bastard!" LaCroix sensed Janette and Nicholas' arrival behind him, though he did not bother to acknowledge their presence. "He's dead, Daniel!" he said forcefully. "You will calm yourself immediately!" "Not until I get me gifts. I want them now!" He felt Nicholas' hand on his shoulder as his elder son whispered frantically, "If this isn't proof he's out of control, what is?!" LaCroix spun around, face to face with Nicholas. "He's merely having another temper tantrum..." The sound of a splintering crash caused them both to turn to see Janette holding the remnants of a wooden chair she'd apparently smashed against the brick mantle of a fireplace. "It must be done," Janette said, barely audible by even vampiric ears over Daniel's hysterics. Pure instinct urged LaCroix forward to protect his youngest, yet somehow Nicholas found the strength to restrain him as Janette raise the stake over Daniel's back. "She's right," Nicholas said. "She's right." "I'm sorry, my little prince," Janette mumbled as she brought the stake down and through the heart. She immediately fled from the house. A long sigh escaped LaCroix involuntarily. He had, of course, experienced Daniel's last moment of agony, his final emotion of betrayal and confusion about why his Princess had done this. Dawn was less than an hour away now, there was no time to mourn. "We must take care of the witnesses, Nicholas." "No," his son ordered. "There's been enough killing tonight." Normally LaCroix would have argued. However, under the circumstances, he tended to agree. He knelt down by the three sobbing children, raising his index finger to make sure they were looking directly into his eyes. "What you just saw tonight did not happen. Your parents were killed in a fire caused, unfortunately, by a candle falling against the curtains. Nicholas saw the flames and managed to rescue you, unfortunately it was too late for your parents. Do you understand?" "Yes, sir," all three children mumbled, the blank look of hypnotism on their faces. "As for the body of the child, he was an orphan named Daniel whom your parents took in for the spirit of the season." >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Nicholas had helped him dispose of as much evidence of Daniel's final rampage as possible before the house was set on fire. The war's chaos prevented a thorough investigation so the incident was quickly written off as nothing more than a tragic accident. The next night, Nicholas had left them without a good bye, upset not only about Daniel, but also due to Janette turning to her master for comfort instead of him. She seemed to have sensed LaCroix's own sense of loss though he never spoke of it or shared it with her while making love. Not able to bare the thoughts solitude allowed, LaCroix went through the door separating his private apartment from the club. To his surprise, the employees and a smattering of early customers were silent. "Is there something wrong?" "I know that voice! You're the Nightcrawler, aren't you? The station said you broadcast from here." "Carl Thompson, I presume. Your picture does you justice." "So will my gun if you don't raise your hands." Realizing the young man was not lying, LaCroix chose to comply. There were several mortals in the area and he had no desire to reveal his nature when bullets began passing harmlessly through him. Besides, this could be an amusing interlude to all the blasted season cheer. "Come on, Captain, at least let me give it a try," Nick pleaded. "Thompson did ask for the cop who gave the photograph to the Nightcrawler." Reese sighed. "Nick, it's just plain stupid if you ask me. This is no time to play hero. Someday your grandstanding is going to backfire." "I'll play it safe, just try to get him to exchange me for at the hostages." Hopefully, at least the mortals, Nick added silently. "That guy's serious, Captain." "I know. That's what worries me. Any pervert who would kill his siblings would do anything." "That's why I'm volunteering." Actually, Nick knew from his link with LaCroix that blood had already spilled in some fashion. Though no gunfire had been heard, he could sense his master smelling the fresh source of food. They'd once hunted in this fashion, knowing when they other had found a victim. "Okay," Reese agreed hesitantly. "Hell of a way to spend Christmas Eve." Nick responded by handing over his gun. Reese signaled several other officers over and began discussing the logistics of the plan. Raising his hand, he pointed toward The Raven's door. "Nick. Be careful." As an officer used a bullhorn to announce Nick's approach, he walked slowly, arms spread slightly, towards the sidewalk. The door swung open. Vachon greeted him with a nod, saying nothing. Inside there were about twenty patrons and employees. Some were stretched out on the floor, face down. Others were seated at the bar, their hands folded in their laps except for one mortal woman who held a blood soaked tissue up to her nose. Thompson had LaCroix's neck in an armlock, the gun pointed to the side of his head. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Detective Nick Knight, I'm the one who distributed your photograph to the media. Why don't you let everybody go now. I'll stay." "Why? Because I don't want to!" Thompson's tone lacked any reason whatsoever. "I'm in control here. People are paying attention to for once! Right? ?" He pounded the barrel of the gun against LaCroix. "I don't see how anyone could ignore you," LaCroix said it a totally normal manner. Nick could tell LaCroix found the situation entertaining, at least for the moment. As soon as he was bored, LaCroix would most likely end the stand off himself, probably with more violence than Thompson would. "My mother ignored me, after she married that bastard and started breeding like a pig. Bunch of bastard, good for nothing brats! Theo wouldn't leave her alone, let her be. He killed her, you know, made her live on the streets. Kept forcing her into drug rehab when she didn't want to go." "How awful," LaCroix said mockingly. "Shut up!" Nick could hear soft sobs start from one of the mortal men on the floor. Enough was enough. "Carl, look at me," he said hypnotically. "You will drop the gun and let us go." "I will drop the gun," Thompson echoed very softly. He shook his head, "No!" Great. A resister. Always at the worst possible times. Nick let his eyes meet LaCroix's just long enough to mentally ask for help. The older vampire was a better hypnotist. LaCroix tried to turn his head slightly. "Perhaps the good detective is right." "Stay still or I'll kill everyone!" "That would be quite a sight, I'm sure." LaCroix's voice was controlled, soothing. Nick had heard the tone many times himself. "However, you couldn't possibly have this much ammunition and no doubt your police friends outside would open fire upon hearing your first shot. I'm sure the Detective Knight has a vehicle at his disposal. You could take both him myself as a shield. I freely volunteer in order to protect my staff and customers." "You're up to something," Thompson growled. "You're the one holding the gun to my head." "Okay, but everybody stays here until we're away...Do you understand? " There was a general murmur of frantic approval from the hostages. "Oh, yes, I'm quite sure they do," LaCroix emphasized. Nick was told to walk in front of LaCroix. Although no words were exchanged between the vampires, he knew his master planned for them to get away from prying eyes where they could use their powers to overwhelm Thompson. While LaCroix probably was thinking of nothing more than a fresh meal in compensation for the invasion of his bar, Nick had hopes he could still formally arrest the suspect. That argument would have to wait for the time being. "Open the door, but try to run." Nick complied, peering out to see a heavy snow had began falling. He could still make out the numerous police, including sharp shooters. Beyond the police line stood at least five television cameras, complete with high powered lights. "Go out slowly." He shut his eyes and started forward. Suddenly, he was hit with a wave of distress and pain from LaCroix, a fraction of a second later what he knew was his master's body fell on him, forcing him onto the snow slick sidewalk, as a gunshot rang out. The abrupt odor of mortal blood was nearly overwhelming. > "I never knew 'The Night Before Christmas' could sound so macabre," Natalie laughed as she poured herself another egg nog. She'd caught up with him after the crime scene had started to clear. Reese insisted Nick book off for the rest of his shift, so the vampire cop invited her over to open her gift from him. "Guess he's lucky to even be on the air tonight. At that close range, the pressure from the gun could have taken his head off. Good thing he ducked." She sat down on the couch next to Nick, though not too close. She really didn't want to smell the cow's blood in his own cup. "That's only what he told police. When those camera lights hit his eyes, he fainted," Nick smirked. "Once he was dead weight, Thompson dropped him. I don't know if he meant to fire or not. Doesn't matter, I guess. His arm was angled so that he shot himself instead of LaCroix." The resulting scene had been positively gruesome, thought that fact no longer stuck out in her mind. "LaCroix? ?" Shrugging, he laughed. "He'd deny it, of course. That's why I had my eyes shut when I came out the door, those lights , especially if you're not expecting them. Living among mortals, I've picked up a few tricks." <<...shook like a bowl full of jelly...>> Natalie ran her hands down the beautiful pearl necklace she now wore. Nick swore they were fake, though antique, but she had her doubts. All she'd given him were a couple of compact disks. Nick stood and walked over to the fireplace, setting his empty glass on the mantle. Despite the lingering smile, he seemed preoccupied. "Nat, I want you to know I'm going over to the Raven before dawn." Natalie opened her mouth to protest. "No, hear me out, please. There's something I want to do for LaCroix. When got shot in the head last month, he helped me out a lot, filling in all those blanks in my memory." Natalie sighed. LaCroix had used a mixture of hypnosis and tales of Nick's past, his past, to trigger the recovery, something she could not have done. The ancient vampire seemed to have regained ground in his relationship with his creation. Several times she'd driven past the Raven during daylight to find the Caddy parked in front. "Sometimes I'm not real sure you truly want to be mortal again, Nick." "You know I do, Nat," he said. "It's just...I'm worried about LaCroix. He seemed upset after the shooting tonight, even after he was allowed to reopen.." "You think he'd be use to a little blood and gore, well, of blood..." "That wasn't the problem. He told me this Christmas was nearly as bad as when 'we' lost Daniel." Nat shuddered. She'd finally heard the end of Daniel's story. Poor kid. "When the treatments are successful, he's going to lose you too. How do you know he's not using this an excuse to lure you back?" <<...dash away, dash away, dash away all...>> "You wouldn't understand." "Because I'm not a vampire?" she snapped. "Yes," he said, using his eyes to do a realistic imitation of a Cocker Spaniel. "I sense his pain. I'm not the only one who has to live with unpleasant memories. He's just usually better at hiding them. Maybe this time he needs to with Daniel, remember him, bury the fact he once lived. Besides, I'm hoping to be in and out before he notices." "And how are you going to manage that feat? You can't go to the bathroom without him knowing." "Don't worry, I've got a conspirator." <<...Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. <> Natalie threw a pillow from the couch, hitting the sound system dead center. Urs was always a little nervous before singing. Not that she didn't trust her voice, she hadn't missed a note in over a century. What unnerved her was the power her songs had over men. Normally, they'd practically swoon at her feet. This time she knew she faced a real challenge. However, she couldn't say "no" when Nick had asked her to a least give this a try. She chose a song she'd written herself in the early part of the century. Vachon described it as a sexy lullaby, capable of luring the biggest baby to bed and her along with him. Starting on stage, she rubbed her hands over Javier as he accompanied her on acoustic guitar. Fortunately, they'd rehearsed this song many times over the decades so he was able to concentrate on his playing. She slinked off stage, lifting her mini skirt just enough to tease the men. Trying to focus on the former hostages along with the officers who'd been invited to return after their shifts were finished, she moved through the captivated crowd towards the bar, touching as many men as possible. She observed LaCroix, careful not to be obvious. At one point, his eyes were coloring with the barest hint of a yellow glow. He squeezed them shut briefly, when he opened them, all evidence of his vampirism was gone. Then as she approached the man on the barstool next to him, the ancient vampire raised a hand to his mouth, pretending to scratch beneath his nose. What he really was doing, Urs knew, was hiding his extending fangs from mortal eyes. Crossing in front of him to the man sitting on the other side, her hand stroked across LaCroix's knees. When she spun around to look him straight in the eyes, he crossed his legs quickly. Urs' smile broadened for she knew she had him right where she wanted him. Moving to LaCroix at the song's climax, she brushed her fingers across his slightly gapped lips. He gripped her hand firmly, forcing it aside, yet leaned close to her right ear, whispering, "We ...spend time. Now." The crowd, mortal and vampire alike, parted as LaCroix led her swiftly towards his private apartment. Although far from complete, Urs was enjoying this challenge! Screed paced up and down the stairs to Tracy's apart several times, singing "I'm gettin' nothing' for Christmas" to himself. He'd planned to ask the V-man to come with him, but when he'd got to the Raven, there were still too many cops around for his taste. They made him nervous, reminded him of Enforcers. Bad enough he couldn't get her a proper gift, at least of jewelry or perfume or expensive chocolate candy like you were suppose to get a lady. He'd done right good at Nick's house, spending the previous early morning hours hunting down five large ratsies the detective hadn't even heard scurrying about in his garage. As usual, Nick paid good, until he started subtracting the cost of broken stuff. How could one vase be worth $200? Too expensive to even piss in. As soon as the sun set, Nick had thrown Screed out of his loft - from an upper floor window. Screed had headed down towards the local mall with the $25 he had left. He easily could've lifted something, but with Tracy being a cop and all, buying a gift would make it that much more special. When he could find someone in a store willing to help him, they told him that wasn't enough to buy anything so he should just leave. That is all except one store. He'd be sure to go back there the next time he had money, or wanted a nibble a bit more gourmet than sewer rats. "Mate, you're immortal and don't need to be ex-or-cising," he said, forcing himself up to her door. He knocked. No response. He knocked again, a little louder. Never could tell about mortal hearing. Still no response. He banged so hard the wall shook. The door just down the way opened. An ugly woman with blue stuff on her face and her hair in curlers shook a fist in Screed's direction. "I'm calling the police." "Go ahead, ya fugly sow, an' see if ol'..." Screed found himself being dragged into Tracy's apartment. He didn't know mortals could be so strong. "What the hell are you doing, Screed?" Tracy whispered harshly. She stuck her head out the door, waving at her neighbor. "Sorry about that, Mrs. Bisely, forgot my friend was coming." She shut the door. "Are you trying to get me thrown out of here? Where's Vachon?" "Done to the Raven, 'e is. Hot things goin' down tonight..." "Listen, Screed, I've got a bad cold and really don't want to hear about it. Wait a minute, in that cage?" "Just a prezzy from you're friendly local ratboy." He held the cage out to the woman. "Even paid for it meself. Not hot goods for you." She hesitated, then took it. "A rat? You're giving me a rat? For Christmas?" "It ain't no Christmas gifty like it ain't no squeaker, Baby Jane. Man at the pet store said it was a fancy hamster. Don't them meself, hair gets stuck between the ol' fangies, know whadda mean, nudge nudge, wink wink." "Uh, yeah. Thanks." "No problemo, missy matey." Screed held up his book. "Noticed you'd been lookin' a bit lonely, Ol' Screed knows that feelin', he does. Other vampires laugh n' call me names 'n won't let me join in vampy games n' all that jammy jam. Just a little membrance for thinkin' nuf o' me to give me this. V-man's gonna read the scribbles to me soon as he can." "Good, I'm glad," she said, sitting the cage down on the floor. "Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm sick and really don't feel like company, especially at five in the morning. Can you see yourself out of the building by yourself...quietly?" She opened the door. "Sure thingee, Baby Janie. Be as quiet as a mousie, I will. Happy No-'ell and all o' that." As soon as he was out into the hallway, the door shut. Screed felt pretty good, she'd obviously really liked the gift. He was only a few steps down the hall when he heard Tracy's door open. "Screed?" "At your service, I am." He followed her back into the apartment. "You know, I'm up and don't think I could get back to sleep. Would you like me to read some of the book to you? I'm kind of hoarse, but think I can manage." "Gettin' kinda close to the ol' sun, ya know. Don't want to explode like a sausage too long in the microwave." Tracy shrugged. "You planning to keep that promise to Vachon not to bite me?" "Swear on me honor, if I had any." "I kind of in the dumps about spending Christmas alone. We don't have to really celebrate, but I could read to you, then when you get tired, you can sleep in my bed and I'll take the couch. Since I work nights, the drapes block out the sun." "Ya wouldn't torture your ol' pal Screed with no bathin', would cha?" "Well...no. Guess I can always wash the sheets." Screed grinned broadly, handing over his book. "Got a deal, Baby Jane. The V-man don't know what 'e's missin', aye?" As he awoke, LaCroix focused his eyes slowly. So he hadn't been dreaming, his trousers really were hanging from the chandelier above his bed. He vaguely remembered reluctantly agreeing to try something Screed had taught Urs. Remarkable that a mere carouche could be so imaginative. Gently sliding Urs off his chest, he stood, allowing himself to study the sleeping goddess for a moment. Too bad there was not a living artist worthy of capturing her nude form in sculpture. Her body was as near to perfection as he'd experienced. Urs drew in a breath, opening her eyes very slightly. "I'll go downstairs," she mumbled, beginning to sit up. Retrieving his black silk shirt from where it'd been tossed, he helped her ease into it, then buttoned it for her. All his partners understood they were to return to their beds in the basement when he was finished. She kissed him briefly on the lips. "Perhaps this evening," he said. She smiled hopefully, then left. Glancing at a clock proved it was only noon. Yet he felt restless. There'd been a bit too much wine in the blood cocktails he'd mixed to share with Urs, hunger was already stirring within him. Giving in to the annoyance caused by the alcohol his body could not digest, he entered the bathroom and emptied his bladder. He considered a bath, though it might be more entertaining to invite Urs to join him tonight. As he was slipping on his robe, a realization hit him. Nicholas. LaCroix immediately checked the other bedroom to find the bed had not been slept in. Focusing on the link, he headed towards his den, stopping just through the door when he saw the mess. Scraps of wrapping paper and stray bows littered the room, while glass balls decorated his halogen lamps. The divider concealing his wine rack now blinked with numerous white lights. There was a stack of presents beneath his rubber plant. A stocking hung over the edge of a chair. Nicholas was stretched out on the sofa. LaCroix sighed. Nicholas had obviously been here for quite some time. Only being enthralled with Urs' skills had kept him from noticing. The two undoubtably conspired. How she managed to keep this from him during their session? No matter, tricked or not, the experience had been exhilarating. LaCroix picked up a piece of stray ribbon and dangled it over Nicholas' nose, making sure it just brushed it. The younger vampire swatted. "What is the matter, my child?" LaCroix asked in his son's native medieval French. "Did we have to sleep in a barn this day?" he replied very, very groggily in the same tongue. "There's too many flies." "Sometimes we must rest our heads wherever the sun cannot reach us. Be awake now, Janette is already up and waiting for tonight's hunt." Nicholas moaned in protest, starting to rise up without opening his eyes. LaCroix stepped back as he fell off the sofa, hit the floor, and immediately jumped to his feet, eyes wild with confusion. "I'd planned to be gone before dawn," he said in English. "Guess I fell asleep." "Obviously." LaCroix gestured around the room. "Care to explain this mess?" "I wanted to surprise you." His son looked incredibly hopeful. "You've certainly succeeded." He walked over to pick up and examine a small, flat package. "Isn't this paper meant for a child's birthday? Or are green elephants dressed in vests and pointed cardboard hats a Christmas symbol I'm not aware of?" "The only thing open was a convenience store. That's what they had," Nicholas explained sheepishly. "Go ahead, open it." "Well, well, well. So are St. Nicholas! Though I seemed to recall he was born in the fourth century, not the thirteenth. Probably getting forgetful due to my advanced years, though the legend now makes sense. An ageless being who can only deliver gifts at night. Reindeer which can fly...Pray tell, Jolly Old St. Nicholas, how you manage the milk and cookies?" ", please!" Sighing, he opened the gift neatly by peeling away the tape on one end. Humoring Nicholas was becoming a trying past-time. A picture frame slide from the paper. LaCroix turned it over. Staring back at him was himself in the uniform he'd worn briefly during World War II. Beside him, dressed identically, was Daniel. "Damn you, Nicholas!" he shouted. His need to suppress the thoughts of the boy while sharing blood with Daniel had forced the memories away. Now they were back, complete with the pain which tightened his chest. "I don't understand..." "What is there understand?! Daniel is not something I care to dwell upon. A failed experiment, nothing more. I told you to destroy all the photographs." Nicholas' face took an all-to-familiar expression of total morose. "Did you really think I'd appreciate this?" "I...I know you'd been thinking of him. Sometimes facing bad memories helps ease their hurt." "The words of mortal psychoanalysts do not apply to us!" LaCroix tossed the frame over his shoulder. It hit the floor with a reassuring shatter. Reaching out, he lifted Nicholas by the shirt collar, pushing him backwards until he slammed into the room divider with such force many of the lights shattered, causing the rest to go dark. "There are things I decide to forget. Daniel most of all. He was my son, my eternal little boy." Instead of the teary eyed reaction LaCroix had expected, Nick began to vamp out though he didn't fight his master's grip. "He was too young! I tried to tell you from the beginning. Even if his transformation had been successful, he'd never have grown up. An eternal child would need eternal care, he would never have been capable of totally caring for himself!" "Exactly, Nicholas! He'd be able to leave me." LaCroix dropped Nicholas, turning quickly around, immediately regretting what he'd just admitted in the heat of his anger. The damage, however, was done. "You run from me at every opportunity." And Janette, too, has left. "Daniel was young enough to appreciate all I could give him." "You were buying his love with toys!" "I was his everlasting loyalty!" A hand rubbed his shoulder as Nicholas moved to his side, he jerked free. When he turned back to face his son, the younger vampire's eyes were full of something...soft. "I'm sorry." "For what?" he snapped. "For not living up to your expectations. I be what you want me to be, LaCroix, will never be the kind of...son...you want." "You'll also never be mortal again." "I don't believe that." Nicholas' tone was quite conversational. LaCroix had expected the argument to heat up. "Anyway, you're up, I'm here, why not open the rest of your presents?" He was curious to see what the packages held. In 2000 years, the thrill of being surprised with gifts had never eased. First though, LaCroix picked up the frame he'd thrown. The shattered glass had not damaged the photograph. Daniel had been a sturdy, intelligent boy. In a time long past, in a mortal situation, he was the sort of boy LaCroix would have gladly adopted and raised to follow his footsteps in the Emperor's army. "I'm sure we can find another frame," Nicholas said reassuringly. He took the photograph from his master, replacing it with a good size box. LaCroix sat down on the sofa and was a little less neat about opening this one. Amazing. "These were to have been Daniel's gift from Santa," he muttered, taking a chariot out of the box. "I thought they were lost when the air raid destroyed the house." "After you left to escort Janette to the States, I returned and dug through the rubble. I...I have to admit, I thought I might never see you again and wanted something to remember you by. That's where I got the photo too." Nicholas' words were sincere, though a tad sentimental. LaCroix rewarded him with a smile. "I have nothing for you...though I have located a harpsichord. An original. I'd considered it for your birthday, however..." "No, really, it's okay. I understand why we don't celebrate Christmas. Besides, I'm a little old for Santa. This was meant to cheer you up." It'd worked, though it would not do to admit this to Nicholas. "I insist you at least let me make a sizable donation to the Buck boy's trust fund in your honor." Such an action would also please Urs. "Deal." "Now, to the matter at hand - what is in those other packages, St. Nicholas?" His son had chosen well considering he'd been limited to a convenience store. Numerous publications on science and history as well as a particularly racy men's magazine. Several historically based fiction books he could read and tear apart for accuracy. A coffee mug decorated with a scene of the Eiffel Tower. Three compact disks of classic music. A yellow rose made from a pair of women's panties (perhaps they'd fit Urs). "Is that all?" His son now sat on the floor gathering the used wrapping paper into a trash bag. "And to think you once lectured me on greed." "This a bit different, Nicholas." LaCroix hesitated, actually having to stop and formulate what he wished to say. "This has been a special day for me." "Yeah? I wasn't sure how'd you take it." "Not necessarily the gifts, my Nicholas, rather the fact you spent it with me." "Since I got shot, I've spent quite a few days here." "Each one special." A statement sure to play on the boy's conscious. Bait, as it were. A red object on the chair caught his attention. "We forgot the stocking. Surely Santa would not give me a tangerine and nuts." Nicholas tried to block his way. "Let's save it for later." "Hopefully, my current wave of foolishness will pass quickly." "It's getting late in the day. I'm tired, LaCroix." "You know which bedroom I consider yours." "Uh, I really didn't get a chance to fill your stocking..." A firm glare silenced the younger vampire. Why was he suddenly so upset and even a little fearful? There most certainly was something in the stocking. LaCroix reached in, pulling out several lumps of coal. "!" END