CHAPTER THREE
“If you are trying to scare me by sneaking up on me, I must tell you, you’re doing a very bad job.” Dr. Natalie Lambert spoke without turning. Instead, she continued to examine the vial she was holding in front of the florescent light, shaking it vigorously to keep the particles afloat.
Nick was leaning on the doorframe, drawn in complete silence. Even without looking, she knew he must have that little-boy look on his face. The look that always made her knees unwillingly go soft. She had heard him in the corridor talking to her assistant, Grace Balthasar, and knew he was there in spite of his soundless movements. At times she wondered if that, too, was part of their predatory nature, a concept that made her shiver inside. Thinking of Nick as the hunter, inching on his prey step after step, getting closer to that beating source of blood. He would wait mutely in the shadows until the right moment came, then would leap in the air, go straight for the neck, and pierce the vein like a cobra as red-hot blood splashed into his eager mouth…. Vehemently, she pushed the images away from her mind. That wasn’t her Nick she insisted to herself; that was Count Dracula. Her Nick was cute and gentle and extremely caring, he was more human than anyone else she knew, never the monster he claimed to be. He was the guy who came to her whenever she needed someone to talk to, the guy who invited her to watch movies together and who got popcorn just to throw at her, and the guy who flashed his fangs to scare her at the emotional ending of King Kong. She silently smiled at the memory. Ok, maybe he wasn’t exactly Mr. Perfect, but he was…he was Nick. Who cared about the little oddities?
Nick pushed himself away from the doorframe and walked forward to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. She fought the impulse to lean against him, tried to focus on the contents of the vial, which she knew she was shaking a little too violently. Nick laid his chin on her right shoulder, looking at her work with interested eyes. She picked up another vial and dispensed the contents of the first into the second, then moved to attach a label to it, hence moving out of his grasp. Nick crossed his hands in front of his chest and asked, “Anything new on the Polson street victim?”
Natalie continued writing on the label and answered without raising her head, “Well, we know the cause of death, there is not much to tell in that field. The shot that was fired went straight through his heart. Definitely fired from a close range, and the blood on the pavement was also identified as his, meaning that he was shot on the spot. No murder weapon found yet.”
“Anything that can help us identify the perp?”
“From what I have found in his blood, the guy was a heavy drug user himself. He could have been waiting for the supplier to get his usual biz. He could also be the dealer waiting for an appointed customer when it all happened.”
“Or perhaps he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That could be true too, but I guess we have to wait for the preliminaries to learn more. Hey, you’re off for tonight, aren’t you?”
Nick nodded in answer. “Yeah, I’m going back to the loft. Got to straighten up some stuff before the big fiery ball comes out and tells me to jump in the hay.”
Natalie smiled and took both his hands in hers, looking him in the eyes.
“Ok, you be a good boy and go now. But would you promise to try that new snack I made for you before going to bed?”
Nick grimaced at the suggestion and tore away from her gaze. Nat’s eyes continued to follow his with an expectant expression of their own. After a few minutes of silence, he finally said, “Ok Nat, I’ll try, but I must tell you they’re the worst I ever had. Their taste is so bad I feel like scraping my tongue clean after I have one.”
“C’mon Nick, that’s unfair. You can at least try, can’t you? I mean, you’re the one who wants to be mortal, not I, but I ask you to do it this time for me, ok?”
Nick’s sky blue eyes returned to hers with an expression of fortitude as he moved his hand trough her wavy, chestnut hair. “It’s always been for you, my little Ms. Frankenstein. What else do I have to go for?”
As sweet as that sounded to her, her features turned hurt. Was he implying that he didn’t trust her cures? That he took them just to please her? She let go of his hands and stepped away, returning to her experiment left on the desk. Without letting any part of her feelings creep into her voice, she said, “I’m visiting a relative in town tomorrow so I may not be able to drop by. I guess we’ll see each other at the next shift.”
Nick planted a kiss on her right cheek and whispered cheerfully, “That’s perfectly fine. I’ll see you then, my dear, that is if I survive those snacks of yours.”
He left without a noise, not noticing her injured look, again. That was her Nick, the joy of her life, who showed up like a waft of smoke and went away like a gust of wind. Who was too naïve to ever know what happened in her heart.
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Nick pulled up the Caddy in the garage and shoved the keys in his pocket. Days after his little mess about with Schanke, he still had to smile whenever he looked at his clean polished car. He loved it when the Caddy was in good care.
He took the elevator up to the loft, counting in his mind the seconds that were left for him to get to the fridge. Today he would drain at least four bottles and get himself a hangover. He smiled at the mortal phrase; did his kind ever get a hangover if they drank too much? It was hard to tell now that his days of tempestuous drinking were centuries past. He strode toward his fridge and yanked the door open. <Yeah, you wish! Four bottles of blood! Not even in your wildest dreams; Nat will kill you for sure if she catches you with that. > He looked at the corner of the fridge, where Nat’s special new ‘snacks’ were stored, and scowled. <No, please! Not tonight. I really need some nourishment tonight after all that paper work and all the stress. I’m sorry Nat, but please, can it wait? > With an approving nod on Natalie’s behalf, he reached forward and grabbed the neck the closest bottle.
Just then he froze in place. The sense of someone standing behind him hit his awareness like a slap. There was someone else in his loft and he had just decided to reveal himself to the owner.
Nick knew there was no point in staying in that position any longer, that it wouldn’t change the inevitable. Holding the bottle firmly in his hand, he slowly rose and turned, looking straight into the cold eyes of the Enforcer.
“Hello, Arthur!” He looked away, trying his best not to show his fear; a feeling that started to rise and bubble inside him the moment he sensed the other’s presence. The power emanating from the bold vampire seeped into his soul like a poisonous mist.
For minutes, the Enforcer stayed frozen in place, his eyes piercing Nick like a cornered prey. He must have entered the loft through the skylight, waiting for him to arrive, and shielding his presence from his oblivious host until just the right moment. Of course, he thought, that was their way, to give themselves the edge of catching others off guard and watch them melt at their feet. Nick looked back at the glassy eyes of the dark creature, reading the lines of terror and destruction in their depths. Finally, the figure spoke. “It’s been a very long time, Nicholas. I see you’ve acquainted yourself very well to the changes of time.” He scanned the numerous high-tech appliances around the loft before his eyes returned to the other vampire. “Last time I saw you, you were just an oblivious child.”
Memories came rushing back at Nick. Acheron’s throne room formed before his eyes, LaCroix resting in a heavy chair, his diamond-covered hand held in front of him as each of the younger vampires came forth to kneel and place a kiss on his ring. Janette standing on the right side of the chair, watching the scene from behind their master with smooth eyes, mirrored his own tense pose standing on the left. He remembered their names, with crystal clarity, uttered from their master’s lips as each lowered their head to that majestic hand, planting the kiss and accepting the caress that followed. He remembered the dark-haired impish-looking vampire with the proud and determined look as he knelt down to kiss the proffered hand. His green eyes gazed at Nick when he raised his head from the kiss, an unreadable expression etched across them and a kind of fire that leaped toward him causing him to wince involuntarily. He didn’t know this man, had never seen him before. But there was so much recognition and hate in those eyes that made him want to close his own, just as he heard his master speak the name, “Arthur.”
Nick stared back at the vampire before him. The glacier in his eyes was gone. If he wasn’t a vampire, Nick would’ve said that time had taken its toll on him. He looked like a statue, they all did, but this one was harder to accept, remembering the passion he had held and the turmoil they both had suffered from those lifetimes ago. Arthur was older than he was, even older than Janette by several decades. Still, he looked somewhat juvenile because he had been in his late twenties when he was brought across. He had a well-groomed appearance, black hair combed back and styled in place, black suit and tie, a Samsonite leather briefcase: he almost looked like the young son of a mighty tycoon dressed up for his first business luncheon. No soul would have believed the power withheld in that youthful body, the wisdom and age hidden behind those green eyes. Nick knew him from before he joined the force, knew about his passionate spirit and the fearsome fire that burned inside him and could burn cities to the ground now that he was one of the fiends.
“Please make yourself comfortable.” He pointed toward the couch. “Can I get you something to drink?” He really didn’t know how to greet an Enforcer. If he weren’t trapped in his loft by the impending sunrise, he would’ve flown away rather than trying to make the other feel at home.
Arthur placed his briefcase to one side and sat on the couch. He crossed his legs lazily and continued to study his host. Nick took his silence as a yes and opened a separate compartment of his fridge that contained the ‘special’ beverages. He took two glasses and filled one with the bovine from the green bottle and the second with the special. Then he walked to the couch, carrying both, while the Enforcer’s eyes kept following him all the while. He sat on the chair next to the couch and placed the glass in front of his guest. Arthur picked it up and gazed at the liquid inside before taking a slow sip. His eyes closed at the taste, like a professional wine taster, and opened to stare again at the glass he was holding. “ Old and donated,” he commented in a flat tone. “Guess you don’t have the means to get the good stuff?”
His eyes returned to Nick with just the barest amusement evident in them. His fangs were visible through his lips as he spoke. Even retracted, they were a half-centimeter taller than the rest of his teeth, making Nick wonder about their actual size when they extended in the vampiric state. He knew the Enforcers were famous for their extremely long canines.
Nick swallowed his own drink and tried to calm his nerves. After long minutes of silence, he replied, “I must say I’m surprised you even accepted my invitation for this drink. Usually, you guys just roar and pounce instead of talking to the victims or asking them any sort of questions.”
Arthur’s eyes became dark. With a voice that was as cold as his drink, he replied, “The ones you are talking about are the agents, also called Destroyers. They are not made to talk, only to act out the will of the Council. I am an interrogator. I ask questions.” His last words bared an unspoken threat that wasn’t lost to his tense companion.
Nick leaned back against his chair, holding his drink with both hands. The cow’s blood tasted worse than ever and he felt dizzy drinking it. All he wanted was to be told what this was all about, and if there was a sentence, he wanted it to be carried out as soon as possible so he could go and rest, in peace or else. It really didn’t matter to him anymore.
Arthur finally broke the lengthy silence. He placed his glass on the coffee table and uttered two words apathetically, “Rosaline Mansfield.”
Nick looked up in surprise, the name ringing no familiar note in his mind. At his questioning gaze, the interrogator continued.
“The High Council of London investigated a series of articles written and published by her in a local tabloid, all in relation to vampires. In them she explains in detail how the secret society of bloodsuckers loiters in dark sectors with unknown embodiments and satisfies its needs by exploiting associate mortals for food and other means. She also illustrates how many of the members tend to live as regular human beings amongst the mortals, carrying lives and jobs like regular people but concealing their secret as part of their ever-so-venerated Code. All articles were signed and endorsed with special thanks to a particular Toronto pen pal by the name of Myra Schanke.” He punctuated the name meticulously.
Nick’s heart sank halfway through its single beat. He looked up in horror, not noticing the shining gold flecks starting to appear in the Enforcer’s eyes. Arthur’s features remained calm and passive but it was apparent that he was amused by Nick’s reaction to the name. When Nick didn’t say anything, he simply continued. “London sent me here to contact the board of Toronto Council and see what has been undertaken. Apparently there was no disturbance reported recently, so we prepared the case based on what London had provided us and a quick investigation followed. As it turned out, Myra was in fact a friend of Rosaline and they used to send each other letters for many years with subjects ranging from Martha Stuart to the monster of Loch Ness. But what interested us the most was that this Myra was married to a cop who had been recently seen prowling around the Community’s lairs, and whose partner was reportedly a vampire.” He finished by fixing him with irises now completely consumed in gold. Nick opened his mouth, but he knew his voice would fail him. A cold sheen of blood sweat started to gather on his brow.
Just then, Arthur’s eyes returned to normal and he leaned back against the couch, still examining his victim. Nick was reminded of his own interrogation tactics and if he hadn’t been so distressed, he might have laughed at the incongruity of his life. But he was too troubled to think about anything other than his partner and the danger that hovered above him and his family. And as always, it was his fault. His mere existence made people suffer and die before they even had a chance to know why, and the truth of it clenched at his heart like a gargoyle’s claw. He lowered his head and wished he had died long ago, before he had known what friendship meant and before he had dared to let it into his un-dead heart.
“I--” he started, but choked. Arthur immediately held up a hand for silence.
“You don’t have to answer me anything. Your time to answer questions will come very soon. I’m only here to hand you the summons for your interrogation.” He picked up his briefcase and put it on his lap. With a flick of his thumb, he opened the latch and took out a sheet of paper that strangely looked like a regular court order, except for the Council’s ornamented seal at the top of the first page. Nick held out an unsteady hand and took it.
He turned the first page and looked at the address printed on the second, indicating the location where his questioning would take place. The location seemed unfamiliar, somewhere in the Flemingdon Park area. He looked up, wondering if this was a secret hiding place for these procedures. Arthur looked at him from above his nose, reading the question in his eyes.
“It’s an abandoned dogfight club. I guess your counterfeit mortal life as a cop does not go back far enough to have encounters with this place. Even if it had, I doubt you would have heard of it. Our committee has a way with choosing appropriate places.”
He sat up as he finished speaking, putting his glass on the coffee table and picking up his briefcase. Nick was still staring at the sheet of paper when he realized his guest was leaving. With an effort, he finally managed to find a voice.
“What about Schanke?”
Arthur turned. “Detective Schanke and his wife will be dealt with in a separate practice. For now, their case does not concern you.”
“He is my partner.”
“He is a mortal, and will be handled like all mortals.”
“Which would be going after his hide and ripping his throat out along with his family’s.”
The Enforcer smiled, his authoritative manner still firmly in place as he regarded his host with mocking eyes. “Young man, these aren’t the dark ages anymore. Even we have to take precautions in the modern world as it is. It’s not easy to go and kill suspecting mortals without taking the risk of more exposure, though it might still be essential in extreme cases. We have to be careful not to produce unnecessary bodies before we are absolutely sure that they are in fact a danger to the Community. Your friends are perfectly safe for now, unless it is proven that they possess information unsuitable for their kind.” His smile disappeared and he resumed his serious bearing. “Prepare yourself for the questioning, Nicholas. It will take place at exactly the stated time. If you fail to appear, you will be dealt with accordingly, and I assure you it would be in a much less considerate manner. Make sure you don’t forget.”
Nick looked back defensively. For the first time that night, Arthur’s commanding manners got to him. What did they really think he was? A coward? Would they seriously believe he would worsen his partner’s condition by failing to appear in their court? Heck, if it weren’t for the approaching dawn and his guest’s unsolicited presence, he would have flown to Schanke’s house in no time. He fumed inside, but didn’t let any of it show. The last thing needed right now was the Enforcer’s rowdy irritation and the subsequent consequences. He stared at Arthur’s back without saying a word, hoping his silence was indication enough of his understanding of the deal. Now the only thing left was for the Enforcer to leave before the imminent sunrise came about to make it all but impossible. He couldn’t imagine spending the day with him.
Just as Nick thought his guest was about to leave, Arthur’s voice reached him with its vibrant edge. His back still turned, he asked softly, “They too are in this city, aren’t they?”
Nick blinked in surprise and confusion, not completely understanding the question. Arthur tilted his head slightly to one side and looked at him over his shoulder. “Janette, LaCroix? Are they here too?”
Nick nodded blandly. “Janette owns the club you and your friends visited the other night, the Raven. LaCroix runs a radio show, but is currently away. I guess he will be back soon, if you want to see him.”
Arthur turned his head. He stayed unmoving as he continued. “You visit them often?”
Nick stared at Arthur’s back and answered, “Not that often. I have a job, so do they. I see Janette on and off when I go to the Raven; I’m happy about that. LaCroix… well let’s say he’s the type of person you are bound to see if he’s around, no matter if you want it or not.”
Arthur finally turned, his green eyes showing something more than his previous jaded demeanor. “You still dislike him, don’t you? Still the recalcitrant offspring?” He gazed at him for a while before turning his back again.
Nick wasn’t sure how to answer that and finally decided not to. He looked down at the papers in his hand. “You could have sent them through the mail, couldn’t you? Here or the precinct, I would’ve gotten them anyway. There were not immediate reasons for you to come here, am I right?” His eyes stayed fixed on the black clad figure’s back.
“Give my regards to Janette,” was the only answer he got before a sudden whoosh of displaced air indicated his uninvited guest’s departure.
Nick leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes in exhaustion. So many years, so much time passed. And yet it seemed like there was something inside both of them that had remained untouched through all that time. His thoughts drifted to Janette, to LaCroix, Natalie and Schanke and all his pals at the ninety-sixth. Suddenly his life didn’t seem that miserable anymore, as he had always imagined it to be. He had so many friends and something that resembled a family in its own weird and twisted way. Arthur, on the other hand…
“Your life, too, will be a shattered image if you don’t do something about it soon,” a voice sounded in his head. He picked up the bottle and the glasses and walked to his kitchen, an irrepressible yawn escaping his mouth. “Tomorrow,” he said to himself. “I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”
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CHAPTER FOUR
He had a restless sleep, haunted by images of his friends attacked by faceless demons in business cut suits. He tossed and turned until dusk finally fell. He knew it was going to be a rough night and with the unsolved case and the ever-so-anxious Nat wanting to hear about the outcome of her new super snacks, ‘rough’ might be just the nice way of putting it.
Schanke was the first to greet him at the precinct. He was happy tonight and had obviously slept well. Scathingly, he thought how their roles were reversed after just 24 hours. It was his partner’s turn to mock him for his scruffy appearance. He ran his hand through his unruly hair and braced himself for what was to come as his merry partner approached the desk. What came was far worse than anything he had expected.
Schanke propped himself on his desk and blurted out, “Hey partner! What’s with the ‘ten-to-two’ look? Didn’t get much sleep, eh?”
Nick looked at him, confused. “What look?”
His partner snorted. “Ten minutes to two o’clock.” He made a sign of V with his two index fingers. “You know, like on the clock, the hands would look exactly like your brows right now.” He giggled.
Nick stared at him unblinking for a few minutes before he asked, “Anything new on the case?”
Schanke jumped off the desk and wiped his hands on his pants as he replied. “We have an ID on our John Doe. His name is Darryl Timanus, used to be a known candyman in that neighborhood and a few hundred blocks in every direction, with a lot of candy to spare the folks. He was even reported seen around Jenny’s high school area trying to sell his stuff to the kids. You know, when I think of it, I might say I’m actually glad the guy is off the streets.”
“What about helpful evidence?”
“Nothing yet, but we are still looking. Anyway, enough of the case, did you do enough thinking on my little dinner invitation? Are you going to honor Myra and me by coming to Schanke’s humble home?”
Nick looked up with a frightened look on his face. “What are you talking about, Schank? What invitation?”
Schanke leaned forward, half yelling in his ear, which was like stabs to his sensitive hearing. “Don’t tell me you forgot all about it. Don’t you remember what we talked about last night? Our party? You coming to join us for dinner? You said you are going to brood over it, but by the way you look right now, man, I would say you wrestled with it, or something.”
Nick shot him an annoying glance. If he only knew how much trouble he and Myra had caused him and what grave danger they all were in, perhaps he would’ve thought twice before being so cheery. Schanke rose from his desk and walked to his own, absently checking the papers.
“Well what’s the word, Knight? Will it be Tuesday or next Saturday? Myra is planning to invite her sister over and I have to tell you, as much as I find her annoying at times, her cooking is simply magnificato. Muahh! She makes the best tortillas ever, makes you want to eat the whole plate.” He smiled gleefully at the memory, oblivious to his friend’s grimace.
Nick thought about the horrible ordeal, about sitting at a dinner table with mannerly people around him, trying not to choke on the awful-tasting solid food. He closed his eyes in painful disdain and wished for a way out when all of a sudden a thought came to his mind. If he wanted to save his friends from the wrath of the Enforcers, this seemed like the perfect opportunity.
Even all things considered, he still needed a chance to talk to Myra Schanke and ask her about her correspondence with Rosaline Mansfield -- that information might prove vital to all of them. And with Schanke pushing the subject now, perhaps accepting this invitation was not such a bad idea, if he was able to stay away from the food. With that in mind, he raised his head to his expectant partner and said, “Tuesday is fine.”
Schanke shook his head in discontent before he actually heard what his partner had just said. Slowly, his eyes grew wide as he turned back to Knight, not quite trusting his own hearing.
“What did you say? Should I take that as a yes? You’re coming? You are actually coming? Seriously?”
Nick nodded. “Seriously.”
Schanke threw his hands in the air, joy and disbelief marking his every move. In seconds, he was out of his chair and on the phone dialing a number.
“Got to tell Myra. She will jump out of her skin from joy. For months she’s wanted to try her new recipes on someone other than me. Oh boy, is she gonna love it.”
Nick looked at him miserably.
His thoughts raced at a distressing speed. The events of the past couple of days had him strained and left with too many dilemmas. He knew he had to somehow get through this in order to find out what was going on. If Schanke or Myra had any suspicions about the Community, it was his job to ensure their safety before the Enforcers found anything about it. That meant he had to talk to them before the Enforcers did, which in turn meant he had to meet them sooner than the interrogator and help them disappear if by a chance his investigation resulted in the worst outcome. If that required him to chow down a few tortillas on the way, then so be it. And who knows, it might make chewing on Nat’s wonder snacks a lot easier later.
Schanke put down the phone and shot a glance at him. “Myra is more than happy and she said she’s also going to fool Janice into giving away the recipe for her secret legendary dessert. It will be a feast.”
A feast indeed, thought Nick. Had his partner anything other than weird food items planned for the occasion? With painful certainty, he realized that this was going to be even harder than the questioning scheduled by the Enforcers. He swallowed hard and pleaded in a shallow voice, almost involuntarily, “Schank! Is it possible to forget about the food?”
Schanke froze when he heard his words. Slowly, he returned to the desk and looked down at the other detective, part of his earlier joy still in place, but by the look in his eyes Nick could tell that most of it had gone down the drain because of his last utterance. His partner was looking down at him with unspoken discontent.
Finally, he said, “You’re not going to do this, Knight, are you? Not to Myra. I mean, I don’t mind if you permanently reject my repeated invitations for a souvlaki here, but this time you have to cut me some slack. For Myra, you know. She’s really looking forward to showing someone how good she can cook and she will be disappointed if you don’t eat. I swear, you will regret it partner.”
His gentle pleading touched a deep spot in Nick’s heart. He knew he couldn’t turn back anymore. There was no escape but to endure the worst, whatever that might be. However, a part of him was glad that this meant so much to his friend, a friend who was putting so much value on a silly concept such as his eating. It almost reminded him of Nat. He replied to that hopeful gaze with a positive nod and a hearty smile. “Sure, Schank! I’m looking forward to it.”
Schanke smacked the desk with his palm in a gesture of success and ran to make another phone call. As he picked the receiver, he looked back at a staring Nick, happiness once again evident in his eyes. While he was waiting for the call to be picked up, he pointed to the receiver and mouthed ‘Natalie.’ Nick smiled back weakly, trying to keep his diverse feelings in check. He could only hope the whole thing would turn out well.
His mind drifted as Schanke’s voice reached him from somewhere far away. “Yeah, Natalie. Hi, listen, you’re not gonna believe this. Nick just said yes to my invitation for Tuesday night and he’s going to eat, too… Uh-huh. What? I know it sounds crazy, but wait until you taste Myra’s cuisine and you’ll forget your mom’s cooking. And Janice is coming over, too. Remember, I told you about her tortillas. Mmm, you must try them, they taste soooo good…”
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1368 AD
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“Elle a très bon le goût” (She tastes so good.)
Acheron whispered the words as his hand trailed along the young maiden’s retreating arm. LaCroix smiled lazily from above the rim of his goblet. He examined the young girl who was now preparing more drinks for the guests. She didn’t look more than seventeen. Her blonde hair, slender form and very innocent blue eyes somehow reminded him of another French girl he had met a long time ago, when they had been to Brabant, a girl with the same innocence and purity and a smell that reminded him of something he loved. Taking a big gulp of his drink, LaCroix savagely banished the memory.
“You haven’t brought her over, I see,” LaCroix put in as he reached for another drink from the tray Germaine was holding out to him.
“No! But I have marked her. I know you can sense me in her; I wanted to make sure no one gets any wrong ideas. It’s hard to keep a human servant like her in this house, with all the vampires around, but now that she bears my mark, they all know better than to advance on her.”
LaCroix studied his host carefully before turning back to the mortal. “I still would have brought her across.” He surveyed his children sitting around the room with a hint of pride.
Acheron only shrugged. LaCroix knew the dilemma only too well; Acheron was an Enforcer lord. No matter how attached he became to his children, eventually they all had to join the force and he would never see their faces again. Keeping this one as a servant for a mortal lifetime rather than loosing her to the dark forces of the Council was obviously a preferable choice. He felt a tinge of sympathy for this lonely old lord.
The young maid moved around the room, offering her tray of bloodwine to the other guests. LaCroix followed her as she went from one vampire to the other, inspecting the guests with a proud eye. His children. They were the gift of all the centuries he had spent roaming through the world. Beautiful, aristocratic, intelligent creatures as well as boisterous predators. He studied them one by one as they accepted their drinks from the maid. Melissa was prettier than the last time he had seen her. Elias was standing next to her and was whispering something in her ear. A few feet away he saw Vincenzo as he was trying to charm Isabelle. So much like him, thought LaCroix, a true ladies’ man even in his un-life. And then there were Kaspar, Ivonino and Zavid, the three from the Baltic, still together. LaCroix had great respect for their old family and had risked a lot bringing all three siblings across. He remembered the nightmare of having three infant vampires at the same time and having to protect them through the turmoil of those years in the Baltic. He took a long sip from his glass and moved on, to Arthur. He hesitated for a moment as the slender Welshman chose a goblet from the tray and was about to look away when the boy raised his eyes, looking directly into his. There was nothing specifically evident in them, but LaCroix still didn’t like the way he stared. How much time had he spent educating this one? He looked back at the time he had spent in England. It had been very short, since he had to return to Paris quickly for some urgent matters. He had had Arthur for four decades then, but there was not much attention to be paid to the young fledgling since the times where full of turmoil and political disturbance. He also had another fledgling at that time, a beauty called Pericleia whose life was cut short by her carelessness. LaCroix had grieved over her loss greatly and had not been in the mood to indulge his other child that much. When the civil wars of 1050’s ended, LaCroix simply left Arthur in Wales and went back to France to follow his goals. Now that he thought about it, it seemed like he never had spent any time with him and didn’t really know much about how Arthur came along after he left and how he managed to outlive those turbulent and precarious years. He didn’t care much, either. Ardently, he glided his gaze across the room, utterly aware, to finally rest it upon the two vivid individuals he cherished the most among them all. His favorites of darkness and light, the queen of shadows Janette and the prince of radiance, Nicholas.
They were sitting together on a large wingback armchair. Nicholas was leaning against the back of the chair holding Janette in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He had her head tucked under his chin and every once in a while nuzzled and kissed her hair. LaCroix smiled blissfully to himself, wondering what had he done in his lengthy life to deserve such splendor. His favorites were true eye catchers, his pride and joy. And even as their eyes stared around the room, he knew how deep their minds were entangled in each other. They were like a majestic and stunning statue cut and shaped precisely to his taste, like the ones he ordered his sculptor to make for him in Pompeii—the man whom in this case he would have killed instead of just making blind to prevent him from producing another copy. They were made to fill the void in each other’s eternities with their infinite passion and their intense love, but most of all to be owned and treasured by their father and sire as he acknowledged to himself.
Acheron tenderly caressed Germaine’s slender arm once more before he told her to leave. As she trailed off, LaCroix noticed the numerous bite marks visible on her wrists and around her neck and thought about the time that was left until Acheron would finally use up this mortal completely. Acheron turned back to his guest and pulled him out of his thoughts with a pleased voice, saying, “Her blood tastes of excitement and anticipation. I have hosted many immortal families here in my palace, but yours is the first one during her lifetime and she’s overwhelmed by the number of beautiful and lavishly dressed people around her.”
LaCroix put his goblet on the table and steepled his fingers. “She is exquisite, my lord, I grant you that. However, I feel the importance of this evening is rather toward more imperative matters than the beauty and aroma of your mortal concubine.” He watched his host with icy cool eyes.
Acheron smiled from above his glass. Turning his head to survey the room, he sarcastically commented, “Ah yes. I see your beautiful children are all gathered here. I agree they must be far more exciting to talk about than mortal servants.”
There was an immediate silence following his words. Most vampires stopped their conversations to pay complete attention to what the elders were talking about. A subliminal feeling told them that what was about to be discussed was of severe importance to their fates and possibly their very existence. Vincenzo stopped flirting with the young Isabelle and the three siblings ended their heated conversation in their peculiar language.
Acheron leaned back, taking on a serious air. “You know, General, that I am a servant of the Code. For centuries I’ve provided the High Council with the training and education of its most loyal warriors. What the Enforcement has achieved to this day is somewhat because of the time and energy I spent to give them exactly what they needed: sharp, fearless and trusty fighters.”
LaCroix nodded in approval. Acheron continued. “I’m sure you’re aware that no matter how strong the assembly of Enforcement is, it is not invincible. Our warriors are the greatest, most powerful creatures walking the earth, but as the population of the vampire community grows, so should the number of Enforcers. We have to make sure there is at least one local regiment anywhere in the world where there is a community, to ensure their safety and security and the implementation of the Code. Therefore, once in every decade, I’m obligated to select and train one vampire from an elite family to join and serve the Enforcement, whereas the family is required to present its most competent member for this honorable and demanding position. This decade, the honor is given to your family, Lucien LaCroix, and I see you stand by it. Now I need to know what you say.” He spoke while studying the young crowd gathered in the room intensely, before his eyes came back to meet the pale ones of the master. LaCroix stayed silent.
Acheron called for his servants to bring them more ‘wine.’ He waited for the hustle and bustle to cease before turning back to his company. LaCroix was stirring the last of his drink, showing no care for the old lord’s recent speech. He lifted the same ice-cold apathetic gaze to Acheron, saying, “All well, my friend. I must say I’m truly, how do we say it, _elated_ by this honor appointed to my family. Now what exactly do you expect me to do with it, if I may ask?”
Acheron turned equally inexpressive eyes to LaCroix. “One of your children will be chosen to take the task. He or she will stay in this castle for an appointed time to receive the training and the education that is needed to become an Enforcer. A delegate from the Council of Paris will arrive here after the training is completed to test the pupil and ensure aptness for the duty. If the trainee passes the tests, he or she will accompany the agent to visit the High Council and stand the trials. If all the trials are passed as well, then the new Enforcer will be accepted to the force and become a Destroyer in Council’s preliminary guard. After that, it’s up to him to elevate his position in the legions, depending on his skills and his knowledge of the Code. If the one chosen is the best, there is a good chance that he will reach very high status within the force and win a solid and proud standing for his master. Therefore, I highly value the choice.” His eyes were now fixed on some point across the room.
LaCroix followed the gaze and saw Arthur on the other side, turning the same rebellious stare at him as he had before. He stole his eyes back to the Enforcer lord and said with a firm, rough voice that was unlike his usual velvety whisper, “Fair enough. Do you want me to make the choice?”
Acheron slowly turned his head back to him. His eyes had a slight shade of amber before he closed them and took a deep breath. He looked away before uttering his next words.
“The choice had already been made.”
LaCroix’s eyes flared for a second before he got his interior cool back in place. The idea of someone deciding in his matters, especially about his children, without him knowing about it, made him angry. Still, he was an ancient and so was Lord Acheron, and he knew it wasn’t wise to let emotions surface during an important deal such as this. He calmed down and exhaled. “And who, if I may ask, is this chosen one?”
The ancient lord looked straight in the icy-blue eyes.
“Nicholas de Brabant. Your youngest French get.”
Dead silence fell over the room. LaCroix became still as a Roman statue, still concealing his inner emotions. His children, however, felt the shudder that ran and spread ferociously through the link they shared with their master. Although for most of them, that link was severely weakened because of the many years of separation and the lack of blood sharing. Only his favorites still retained the strong mental connection with their sire and judging by their reaction, what went through that link as LaCroix reacted to those words was far more than a simple tingle of irritation. Janette shivered and turned to bury her face in her companion’s shoulder while Nicholas gasped in something that seemed much like intense pain.
LaCroix put his glass on the table and steepled his fingers in front of him with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. He studied his host for another while until he finally spoke two plain words.
“Why him?”
Acheron countered. “Why not? He is young, both in mortal and vampire years. He had been to the crusades, and therefore is accustomed to the battlefield, although I doubt his experiences as a simple mortal soldier would count much in his advancements as an Enforcer.”
“I wasn’t a simple soldier; I was a knight-errant of the Holy See of France.” Nicholas’ correcting voice came from where he sat in the corner of the room. LaCroix turned such a smoldering glare on him, it made him shrink in place and immediately regret his outburst. ‘Never speak in front of the elders unless you are spoken to’ was one of the first lessons LaCroix had taught him in his upbringing, and he had forgotten it in the most critical moment. There would be retribution for his disobedience, he was sure of that, and he hid his face in Janette’s uplifted curls.
LaCroix returned to their host, announcing coldly, “Nicholas is still a fledgling. His education is not yet finished and he still needs my protection in the Community.”
“I think you are overstressing it, General. He’s already past his first century and from what I’ve heard, most of it was spent in harsh discipline and continuous teachings on the aspects of the vampire life and the Code. I would say he is more prepared than any one of your other children. It’s a good time for you to let go of him and leave him to the further teachings of the Enforcers,” Acheron commented.
LaCroix was silent again, his fingers touching his lips and his eyes fixed at a point on the carpet as if in deep thought. He slowly raised his head, looking at the Enforcer lord as his features changed into irritated. When he spoke, his voice was the usual husky tone that made blood run cold through the veins of the boldest warriors.
“My Lord Acheron. It seems to me that you have spent too much solitary time locked in your castle and away from the rest of the world. Sometimes I wonder how you survive, staying so unacquainted with the affairs of the Community.”
He stood up and turned gracefully, walking toward where Nicholas and Janette where sitting. His stride was so pompous it gave him the aura of an emperor. He came to stand behind their chair and put both his hands possessively on the chair back, leaning slightly forward as he spoke.
“I always thought everyone in the Community knew about my family, my _true_ family. But like I said, you are forgiven, my lord. You had been away for too long and you don’t know about the affairs and the ties that bind us together. But I take the liberty to ask of you now, my lord, to look closely at the picture and see. This is us; this is Lucien LaCroix’s family. Nothing in the world can change its structure as long as I can prevent it.” The hands moved down to gently rest on Nicholas’ shoulders, the message transparently clear.
Acheron slightly shifted in his seat. A servant was standing behind his chair and was handing him a steel goblet of bloodwine, which he accepted inattentively. As he took minute sips from his drink, his eyes stayed on the master vampire’s poised form and his two beautiful children in front of him. LaCroix’s family, he contemptuously thought. So the old veteran turned out to be a harder nut to crack than he had thought. From his stance, it was obvious that he was not going to give up his golden child without a fight. And Acheron wanted the golden one, had wanted him before he had even laid eyes on him. He knew a precious piece without having to look at it, and this one was even delightful to look at. It was the naked truth, Nicholas was a valuable possession and LaCroix wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers easily. He lowered the goblet and set in on the table with a thud. Then he stood up.
“My dear friend. We shall discuss the matter in another more suitable time. Dawn is nearing and I’m sure you all are very tired and need to rest. Let’s go to our rooms and settle for the day. I’ll tell the servants to attend to your needs before you sleep.”
With that, he took one of the heavy-eyed ladies by the hand and led her out of the room. The others followed while LaCroix stayed boldly in his place, his fingers still touching his son’s shoulders. He was too poised to notice a pair of golden-green eyes turn to him as one particular vampire left the room, while Nicholas hugged Janette tightly to his chest and silently wished they had never come to this dreadful house.
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