The elevator came to a halt, and trying not to lose any of her papers, Natalie grabbed the door and jerked it open. She peeked inside and was surprised to see the loft’s interior dark. A dying candle was burning on its stand on the piano and there were a few bottles rolling on the floor. Nick was sitting on his black couch, a half empty bottle in his hand, his head resting on the back of the couch in exhaustion. He didn’t seem to notice her approach. She put the papers on the kitchen table and slowly started picking up the empty bottles from the floor. All thoughts of the case or Schanke’s party gone from her mind, she was just worried now. It was obvious to her that Nick was angsting over something and he hadn’t told her about it, which was very disturbing. Since he hadn’t even shown any outward signs of distress in her presence, whatever it was must be either extremely stupid or highly vampish community top secret. She put the bottles on the coffee table and then laid a hand on his sweat-soaked forehead, brushing back some stray locks. He woke with a start, golden eyes shooting open as he took in a sharp breath and lost his grip on the bottle. Natalie caught it before it could spill over the furniture. Nick looked at her, confused, all features of the vampire put on view. For a moment he didn’t seem to recognize her, until finally recollection dawned in his face and his eyes turned into their normal sapphire blue. She barely heard him whisper.
“Nat! …Is it you?”
Nat put the last bottle on the table making sure it was in a stable position. “Yes, of course it’s me. Who did you think it was?”
“What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? I’m here to give you the latest test results on that Timanus guy, remember?”
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and sighed groggily. “Ah, yes! Sorry, I totally forgot. What time is it?”
“Surely not a time to drink yourself to oblivion.” She pointed at the bottles lined up in front of them on the table.
Nick looked away; his face showed his reluctance toward carrying this conversation any further. He stood up and took the bottles to the kitchen, all the while feeling Nat’s disapproving gaze follow him around.
Nat’s face turned from worried into irritated in seconds as she witnessed his dismissal. With an annoyed shrug, she went to where her papers were and picked them up before she started talking in a strictly professional voice. “Body is examined, drive-by is ruled out, as it is evident that the victim was shot at point-blank. Time of death, sometime around 10:30 PM, which is exactly two hours thirty-five minutes before the body was found. Bullet was from a .32 caliber. No external tissues of another individual found, neither on the body nor under the nails. Suicide is probable.” She finished with an expert throw of the papers on the table and turned to walk away.
A strong hand grasped her arm, holding her in place, then turning her slowly around. Nat tried to ignore the pair of pleading eyes that were desperately searching hers and when she finally gave up and looked at them she found them as deep and disturbed as a stormy autumn sky. A stab of concern coursed through her heart once again, seeing the vulnerability displayed in those eyes. A centuries old powerful predator of the masses hanging desperately onto her arm as if she were the last straw connecting him to life. The irony was almost tragic.
“Please don’t leave. I’m sorry I ignored you, but I’ve been having a very difficult time lately. There is some disturbance in the Community and it is bothering all of us. I didn’t want to involve you in it.”
Nat’s fury returned ten fold as she jumped at him. “Didn’t want to involve me? Nick, where have you been in the past five years? Don’t you see that I’m already up to my knees involved? Can it even get worse than what it already is?”
Nick’s wounded eyes stayed on her, his answer something barely louder than a sigh. “It is different this time, Nat. The situation is far too dangerous for you to get into. I may even have to ask you to stay away from me for a while, or maybe I’m the one who should stay away from you guys until this thing is settled.”
Natalie wrenched her arm from his hand and walked away demonstratively as she spoke. “Oh yes. The ‘I’m-too-dangerous-to-be-around’ speech again. Makes me sometimes wonder why I even bother trying. And if by ‘you guys’ you mean us skimpy mortals altogether, I must say you’re doing a perfect job at ‘staying away’ while planning to happily wine and dine with us at Schanke’s party tomorrow.”
“I know you wouldn’t believe me, Nat, if I say that that, too, has something to do with the recent problem. I have to go to that party to talk to Myra Schanke.”
Nat’s mouth fell open. Of all the answers she thought he would give her, this was the least expected one. “Myra Schanke? You’re going to the party to talk to Myra Schanke? How in all ten provinces did she get into the headlines?” she asked.
Nick shook his head. “It’s very difficult to explain. But she has a friend in England who might be in danger. I have to make sure I know the whole story before I take on any actions.”
“Oh, so it’s the big secret again. And now Myra is playing a role in it, too. Well, let me tell you something about Myra Schanke, my dear. Since she took that cooking course with her sister last summer, all she does is cook. She’s even put her skin care production away for it, and if you are going to jump on a ride with her, you’d better be prepared to chow down gobs of food on the way. Now tell me how you’re planning to do that?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Oh, yeah! Like what? Hypnotize everyone? Turn the whole evening into Dr. Mesmer’s happy hour?”
He had no answer to give her. Instead, he reached to take her arm again but she backed away. He didn’t try to stop her as she walked back to collect her purse and get to the elevator. His pain-filled eyes, however, remained on her back.
Natalie was close to breaking into tears. Damn! Why must he be so difficult? Always like a child needing help and guidance, but too stubborn to accept it. She turned to him one last time with a voice already hoarse with sobs as she said, “I am starting to give up on you Nick, starting to get tired of it all. No matter how hard I try, how much I push, there is always something popping in between to destroy all my efforts. I need you to work with me, Nick; I need you to trust me. But it looks like you aren’t really interested, or perhaps this is really the way you want it to be. If that is the case, please tell me so that I can stop wasting the rest of my life on you.” The tears started sliding down her cheeks, and she turned in frustration and grabbed the door to the lift.
Nick’s heart broke at the sight of her tears. He was at her side in a heartbeat and seizing her hand, he looked her right in the eyes with his sad blue gaze. “Please, Nat! Don’t leave like this. It’s not true; I do trust you. And I want you to believe that I am trying.”
Nat blinked furiously to get rid of the tears; she trembled at his touch and hated herself for showing her vulnerability. “Then maybe it’s just not enough.” She looked up at him, “Maybe you need to work it out alone for a while.”
With those last words, she turned and stepped into the lift. The sound of the door closing behind her echoed in Nick’s ear several times before he realized she was gone. He walked to the elevator door and leaned against it, resting his forehead on the blackened wood, his fist closing around the door handle as if clinging to a lost hope. <It’s true, Nat! I have to work it out myself. Even though I care for you, even though I can’t live even a day without you, I have to handle this one on my own. Don’t you see, Nat? It is too dangerous, even for you, even for me. I’m sorry to hurt you, but I can’t take you down with me, not this time, not with the Enforcers involved. I’d rather die than let anything happen to you or Schank. >
He slowly raised his head; his body still slumped against the door. His heart beat once and he turned to rest his back against the door as he continued to muse. Why must he hurt everyone all the time? Why did they have to suffer for his poor existence? Wasn’t it better if he just left, moved on to a new life? But was that even possible, to simply go and put everything behind? What about Natalie, Schanke and his silly jokes, all the friends he had made here as Nick Knight? He sighed and pushed himself away from the door and went to the fridge. As he opened it, he felt a sense of determination coming back to him. No he wouldn’t run away. He would stay here and fight, show them what he was made of, for his sake as much as for the sake of his friends, the people whose lives he has put in jeopardy. This was no time for backing out.
He reached for a small compartment at the back of the fridge and pulled it open with some force. It looked like it was filled with trash as pieces of foil and opened plastic bags popped out. His hand reached down to search through the junk and came out holding a packaged hypodermic and a suspicious looking vial. He held the contents in front of the light and looked deeply into it; memories came rushing back at him, memories of pain, of sickness, of pure unspeakable joy that ran through his veins as he took his first step into the sun, after nearly 800 years, and then, complete loss. His grip tightened around the labeled vial that read ‘Litovuterine.’ It had been a mistake the first time they’d tried it, and something they had put behind. Still, he had thought it would be a good idea to keep the last vial, for emergency’s sake. Who knows, maybe someday someone would need his help while standing in streaming sunlight, or someone would ask him to go visit the Pope at the Vatican, you never knew. And the emergency had finally arrived, ironically for the sake of eating food. He sighed and put the needle and the vial back in the fridge. He had made his choice, there was no way back. Tomorrow would be his second and last experience of near-mortality followed by another battle to endure the sickness he was sure would follow.
----------------
Donald Schanke was happy as a clown. Eyes glowing with mischief, he joked his way through the conversation, enjoying both the subject and the atmosphere.
“Ok, so I get to the precinct and I’m telling myself, Donny boy, you’re in big trouble this time! It’s not like I’d never done paper work before. But this pile was huge, I mean really huge and the captain knew it, too, so she had called us to her office the night before and said ‘Schanke, Knight. I know you’re cool and all, but if you don’t get those papers off your desks by tomorrow night there’ll be no donuts for either of you. Understood?’ So I’ll say ‘Captain! What’s up with donuts? It’s not like my partner cares or anything.’ You know I haven’t seen this guy eat a donut in four years? Like, how else would you survive life in TRPD Blue? No donuts? C’mon!”
Nick giggled and frowned at the same time. It didn’t actually bother him that the jokes were mostly directed at him. The women looked at him in astonishment. Only Natalie was looking down and clenching her napkin in her hands. Schanke kept going.
“No, no listen, listen to the rest, I’m not even there yet. So I sit at my desk, completely worn out, look around and it’s all white. All over the place, you know they were just done painting the entire bullpen and it was *so* white it actually hurt my eyes. Now I look down and what do I see there? A stack of white paper. I look up and what do I see? My partner walking into the precinct, and what is he wearing?” He looked at the audience, waiting for a reply.
“White?” Myra and Janice asked.
“No, sunglasses. At 1:30 in the morning.” He burst into laughter like a comedian onstage. The others followed.
Nick smiled bashfully and tried to raise his voice above the noise of the amused crowd. “I have sensitive eyes, so what? You just said yourself they had painted the office walls too white. Plus all that paper we had to look at all night. I mean it’s not easy on your eyes.”
Schanke stopped his chuckle abruptly and put a you’ve-gotta-be-kiddin’ look on his face. “Oh yeah? Those 300-dollar Ray-Ban Polarized Pythons were just for protection, right? Nothing to do with a little show-off, partner?”
Nick gave him his best innocent look. “No, seriously, I have sensitive eyes. I only bought them because they promised maximum protection. I really didn’t know they were brand name.”
Schanke was having too much fun teasing his ever-so-swanky partner. “Really? So you simply thought 300 bucks is normal for a pair of sunglasses? Just because they give you the best protection, right? And you wore it to work just to *protect* your eyes from the whiteness of the walls? No Johnny Bravo thing going on at all?”
Nick shook his head innocently. Schanke snapped in joy as if that was exactly what he had expected.
“Well partner, what can I say? On the one-to-ten scale of the bullshit meter, that’s definitely a twelve.” Another burst of laughter cracked through the room, making Nick wish he had done something for his sensitive hearing as well. This time even Natalie joined the gang of gigglers, suppressing a smile behind her napkin before she regained her rigid posture.
Myra and Janice spoke sympathetic words in Nick’s defense before they got up to bring the meal. Schanke’s eyes shone with excitement. If there was anything that he loved more that taunting his partner, it was eating good food. Nick looked at Nat nervously and saw her still staring grimly at her hands. He knew she was set to not care about him tonight, but he could only hope she wouldn’t be too shocked when she saw him actually eat.
The first round was the appetizer. Janice came back with a tray full of roasted mushrooms and breaded chicken breasts stuffed with a combination of ham and Swiss cheese. It looked especially appetizing and to top it off, there was a second tray following it presenting some deliciously arranged asparagus with lemon butter. Schanke licked his lips in anticipation. Manners demanded he wait until his guests were served, but the sparks evident in his eyes betrayed how impatient and hungry he was. Nick smiled at Myra’s sister as she held the tray of chicken cordon bleu in front of him. He shot a glance to Natalie, who still acted indifferent, and took two of the stuffed hors d'oeuvres. He looked down at his plate and braced himself for yet another experience of mortal feast. Only this time, he knew about the consequences.
After everybody was served, Myra and Janice sat down and told their guests to start with the appetizer until the main meal was ready. All of a sudden, Nick found himself the center of attention as multiple pairs of eyes stared at him from all directions and with diverse expressions. The culinary artists were biting their lips, anticipating his reaction as a fussy diner. Natalie, although still trying to maintain her nonchalant attitude, was darting concerned glances at him. Schanke was burning from impatience. He just wanted Nick to get on with it so he could throw himself on the food and extinguish his hunger. Nick cut a small piece and brought it up to his mouth. Looking at it uneasily, he finally closed his eyes and put the food in his mouth. Almost immediately, his eyes opened in appreciation and true enjoyment as he started chewing the exquisitely well-prepared starter. He turned to Janice and Myra, who were still holding their breaths, and nodded in a jubilant approval. The women cheered and Schanke clapped for a second before he started stuffing his own mouth. Nick did the same, laughing at the same time at the relieved expression on his partner’s face as delicious food filled his mouth. Schanke was practically devouring his plate one forkful after another.
Nick had finally managed to relax and enjoy the evening, somewhat reminded of that first time in the Italian restaurant. Watching his partner eat, Schanke too was reminded of the old incident and was having a fun time telling the ladies about how his crazy partner had started nibbling from a mobster’s plate until the big shot had finally had enough of him and had decided to give up his whole meal just to be rid of him. Myra and Janice were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes, both from the joke and the enjoyment of their success.
The main course followed. In seconds, the table was covered with steaming plates and colorful dishes. Roast beef and onions, smoked salmon with vegetables, the infamous tortillas, and a strange looking dish that was called ‘choucroute garnie’ by its proud makers and looked like something between a bowl full of chopped cabbages and an overcooked soup recipe. Nick willingly tried everything. Letting the sisters refill his plate over and again, he was almost completely lost in the sensation. Schanke was overjoyed by the sight of his gobbling friend and constantly related it to his wife’s exceptional cooking. By the time the dessert was to be served, the detectives where both laughing happily as if having the time of their lives.
Nick knew he wasn’t being exactly cautious. The memories from his last experiment with the humanizing drug still haunted him. But he couldn’t help but feel happy for Schanke and his overjoyed wife. The fact that his wife had finally got his difficult partner to eat something seemed to mean a lot to the sensible man who felt like he had finally achieved something with his friend. Nick knew only too well what was in store for him after tonight was over, but since he had managed to make his bighearted buddy so happy, he didn’t regret it.
Myra brought out the dessert; a heap of whipped cream, Jell-O, banana and cake that seemed to want to fall over at anytime like an overloaded Jenga tower. Nick swallowed. He had tried many things last time he experimented with the drug, but he was sure dessert wasn’t among them. He looked at the appetizing sight balancing on top of the plate Myra carried. She was constantly apologizing to her guests that the dessert didn’t come out the way it should. Nick seemed fascinated by it, and the fact that just yesterday, an assortment like this would have caused him to throw up, made him appreciate the pleasure even more. He flashed a cautious look toward Natalie, and for the first time realized that she was looking at him with an aura of shock. Her eyes were so wide they were threatening to pop out if she continued to stare at him like that. His joy and excitement suddenly diminished at seeing the expression on her face. He couldn’t guess what it really was. Surprise? Anger? Disgust? Did she know what he had done? And if she did, could she believe he had done it? He dropped his eyes and tried to focus on thanking Janice, who again had served him with the largest piece from the plate.
The conversation went on until all the food was devoured and guest and host rested happily in their chairs. Myra stood up and started gathering the dishes and carrying them to the kitchen. Nick volunteered to help while Janice led the other guests to the living room for after dinner coffee. Nick joined Myra in the kitchen and helped her to load all the dishes into the dishwasher. Myra was happy to get closer to her husband’s partner and to have the chance to talk to him about Jenny’s school, Schanke’s childish hobbies and her own cooking class. After they finished, they sat around the kitchen table as Myra proceeded making a big bowl of fruit salad, which she said she wanted to leave to the last minute to make sure the fruit was as fresh as it could be. Nick offered to help, but she thanked him, so he sat at the table and watched her go about peeling oranges and apples and slicing bananas. They talked a little more about their work and personal lives until Nick finally decided it was time to get to the point. He stole a look at the others in the living room and said, “Myra, I was wondering if you had a friend called Rosaline Mansfield in the UK?”
Myra looked up merrily. “Rosaline? Well, of course. We’ve been pen pals since before I married Don. We met when I was in London doing some organization work at the National Gallery and we, how should I say it, sorta clicked. She lives in Westminster now and we pretty much write to each other every month. Was there something you wanted to tell me about her? Are you acquainted with her?”
Nick shook his head. “No, I don’t know her personally. A… friend of mine from England told me about some articles she had published in a London local newspaper.”
Myra nodded, “Yes, Rosaline had always been a very social lady. She writes articles for a couple of newspapers in the Westminster area, and she is so knowledgeable. She writes about everything, cooking, decorating, housekeeping, pets, you name it.”
“I bet it’s great to have such a well-informed friend. I was wondering, since my friend told me he saw your name at the end of some of the articles, have you ever sent her any helpful information for any of her writings?”
“I think I did, on occasion. See, we write to each other about many things and sometimes she asks me for hints on some topics. If I know anything, I’ll do my best to help her, although I’m sure she always knows more than I do,” replied Myra.
Nick searched her face for any traces of jealousy, but found none; it seemed like Myra truly loved this friend of hers. He returned to his intended subject. “May I ask you about the topics you recently helped her with? Anything fiction related?”
Myra rested her chin on her hand with which she was holding the knife and contemplated. “Actually, I remember she was writing a series of articles about fictional creatures and she told me about it. She said she wanted to research all the strange living things that were introduced to us in those fantasy books, like fairies, wizards, the Frankenstein monster and vampires…”
Nick interrupted her. “Yes, did she ask you for assistance in any of those writings?”
Myra was surprised by his abrupt tone and his alarmed look. She shrugged unwittingly and said, “I don’t exactly remember. I think she never asked, but I personally volunteered some information when she was writing her article on vampires.”
Nick suddenly stiffened. He wanted to know more but didn’t dare to ask. He assumed that neither Myra nor anyone else in the Schanke household suspected him to be a vampire or else they would not have dared to let him in their house. But still, it was important to know how much they knew or remembered. Schanke was hypnotized by LaCroix after he went to the CERK radio station to talk to him about what he thought he had discovered. He wasn’t known to be a resister and even if he was, LaCroix’s ancient powers would have easily worked around that. The problem was that he didn’t know for how long that suspicion had been on his mind and whether at any point during that time, he had mentioned anything about it to his family. Nick cleared his throat nervously and said, “Err, can I ask you what kind of information you gave her?”
Myra looked bemused by her husband’s partner’s fascination with the subject. She finished peeling all the oranges and continued to think deeply as she started with the apples.
“Well, I remember Donny coming home once with a handful of vampire books, you know he sometimes has some weird interests that come and pass quickly. I’m sure you are familiar with them. Then I heard Rosaline was writing on the subject and I thought it might be a good idea to check out some of the books and send her some ideas. She loved it; she said the material was great and something she hadn’t found at her local library. I was glad I could help, so I kept sending her photocopies from different parts of those books until she was finished with her article.”
Nick leaned toward her on the table, trying to catch her eyes, and said, “Myra please look at me.”
Myra looked up, momentarily stopping her work at hand. Nick locked into her heartbeat and spoke slowly and in a deep voice. “Did Don ever tell you why he got those books? Did he ever talk to you about vampires?”
Myra’s eyes became dazed. She stared at him with that familiar zombie look and easily slipped into the hypnotic trance he was putting on her. “No, Don…never…told me…anything…about it. He just said…he was…working…on a most…peculiar…case.”
“Did he ever tell you anything about vampires? Do you remember him mentioning that word?”
“No,” came the answer curtly. Nick broke the mental connection and watched Myra shake her head confusedly and press the flat of her hand against her forehead before she looked at him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Must be the exhaustion. Did you ask something?”
Nick shook his head no and waited for Myra to finish the rest of the fruit salad. His mind was at ease now. It was apparent that she didn’t know anything about him or the rest of the Community. Schanke most likely had not wanted to risk his reputation as a sane person in front of his wife, and had not told his family anything about his suspicions. It was just a coincidence that Rosaline Mansfield was writing a story on vampires at the same time that the books showed up at the Schankes’ house. He could be sure that the Enforcers wouldn’t find anything to hold against the family and would leave the city as soon as the case was closed. With an intense feeling of relief, he followed Myra to the living room where the rest of their friends were gathered.
Janice was with Natalie, telling her a story about who-knew-what and trying to make it more interesting by adding every hilarious gesture she knew out of her pocket. Not that it really helped much, since Natalie didn’t even seem to hear what she was talking about and didn’t show much interest either, other than occasionally smiling for her friend’s sake. It was obvious that her mind was elsewhere. When Nick came in, she turned to look at him. Her gaze was the most confused, disoriented and wounded look he’d ever received from her. It was as if she was asking him a thousand questions with her eyes while blaming him at the same time for not being honest with her and not accepting her help. Nick hurt for her, yet he knew there was no way they could discuss this right now or even later without putting her life in danger, which was exactly what he dreaded. He stole his gaze from her and looked over to where Schanke and his daughter Jenny were engaged in a heated discussion.
Jenny was anxious, as if trying to explain something impossible to her dad. Myra and Nick arrived just when Schanke was trying to convince her. “You know what, baby? It’s definitely your choice. What would *you* like to do?”
Jenny shook her head, which made her nice little ponytail flap. “But I don’t know, Dad, it’s so hard. I mean, I know I’m good at volleyball and I’ve been playing in all the school’s tournaments with the team. But I’m still a reserve, and now the coach wants me to play as a permanent in the provincials. I mean, what if I screw up? How can the team ever trust me again? My friends will blame it all on me.”
“No, baby, nobody will blame anything on you. You just have to trust the team and do your best to help them win. Still, if you feel like you’re not ready yet, then don’t accept the offer. Like I said, kiddo, it’s up to you.”
Myra set the fruit salad bowl on the table and joined in. “See, dear, daddy is telling you exactly what I did. You can ask us for advice, but the decision is entirely yours.”
Jenny looked as if she was about to cry. With weary eyes, she looked back and forth between her parents and said, “But I don’t know if I can. I really do want to join the team for the provincials, but I’m scared I won’t be good enough.”
Schanke drew his daughter into his arms and spoke to her with a gentle voice. “Don’t worry about it, baby. You will be the best among them all, even if Daddy has to cut his sleep everyday to help you practice. Together, we’ll beat them. Right, sugar?”
Jenny shifted comfortably in her father’s embrace and sighed. “Ok, Dad, I’m sure we will. Thanks for the help. I love you sooo much.”
She gave him a peck on the cheek that made the benevolent man blush to his ears. He hugged her again before they gave each other a big high five and she ran to her room, saying good night to the guests on the way.
Nick watched the emotional play between father and child with a longing in his eyes. The way some of today’s mortal parents treated their children always touched him in more ways than he could think of. As far as he was concerned, neither his mortal nor his immortal father ever gave him a chance to choose his life, not to mention giving him their blessings or support. His mortal father told him to practice the art of war when he was a child, and later sent him to become Lord DeLabarre’s squire without even asking him about it. And as for LaCroix… he never remembered even daring to think about his own decisions in front of the ancient vampire, let alone voicing them. Not before he had finally decided to run away and separate himself from the dominating patriarch, and certainly not when he was an immature fledgling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1368 AD
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
LaCroix paced the room furiously. It was still bright outside and the sun was burning high in the sky. The thick velvet curtains were tightly drawn in front of the windows, obscuring the interiors of the suite from the deadly rays of the sun, but they couldn’t protect the occupants from the waves of anger emanating from the raging ancient. LaCroix kept his pace going from one side of the room to the other and back. He seethed within himself, sending silent curses to the lord of the castle and the gods who had caused him this predicament. Nicholas was the only other person in the room, huddled in a chair in one corner and looking at his angry master with apprehensive eyes. He didn’t know what he should or could do to calm the ancient down, but he knew one thing for sure, to stay alert to when LaCroix’s dam of rage would break, affecting everything and everyone in its path, which unfortunately for Nicholas, always included him.
LaCroix ceased his stride and looked over at Nicholas.
“This is despicable.”
He resumed his pace as he continued to talk to himself in an infuriated tone. “This measly old bastard is making decisions behind my back as if I were a carouche, or some obtuse mortal fool. I will step into the sun before I let him decide what I should do with my family and my possessions.” He threw his hands violently in the air.
Nicholas fought the desire to make himself small; if he wanted to have a say in this, he had to take his chances, now. After all, it was his future they were bargaining on. He straightened up in his chair and carefully said, “Maybe he doesn’t want to insult you; maybe he just thinks it is a good opportunity for me.”
“WHAT?”
LaCroix’s eyes flared a crimson blaze as he heatedly strode toward his terrified protégé. He stopped mere inches from Nicholas, then towered over him with his hands grabbing the back and the arm of the chair as if to trap him there. His voice came from between clenched teeth.
“Do not even try to tell me you are considering this ludicrous proposal.”
Nicholas tried to stand his ground even though he feared his master greatly. If nothing else, speaking his mind gave him the feeling that he was taking at least a small part of his destiny into his own hands, even if the two ancients wouldn’t pay any heed to his decision. He stared into his master’s red-tinged eyes and gulped before he said, “I know I’m not in a position to argue your will, Sire. I’m merely saying perhaps it might be safer for all of us not to go against the wishes of the High Council. You yourself always told me that their word goes above everyone else’s in the Community, didn’t you?”
His words seemed to take the edge off LaCroix’s anger. He stepped away from the chair and folded his arms in front of his chest, still glaring down at his son with solemn eyes.
“I did say that, but it does not mean I am going to sit still and let them give orders to me. I am very old, Nicholas, and what I say weighs heavy in the Community. If the Council wants to take something away that is rightfully mine, they have to first come to me, otherwise I am not going to submit to some arrogant old rot.”
Nicholas turned a sad look away. This was obviously a contest of power in which he had no place or right to be. He was the weakest of them all, LaCroix’s feeble possession. It was up to him whether he lived or died or if he should be handed over to the other master. And if he did in fact hand him over to Acheron, then it would be him that he would belong to. The only thing he could do was to stay silent and wait for his fate to be decided.
LaCroix continued to stare at him as if waiting for a response. When none came, he slowly bent down and took his son’s chin in his hand, turning the golden head to face him. He looked deep into the poignant blue eyes as he spoke.
“Believe me, my son, you do not want this to happen to you. The life of an Enforcer is not something anyone would fancy. It’s a life of endless hardship, pain and loneliness. There will be no one supporting you in your training, no kind words spoken to guide you through the night; you will be wounded, hungry and vicious, like a beaten animal left in a lonely world. And even then the Council will demand your obedience; you will never mean anything to them but an instrument to carry out their evil schemes. Listen to me, my child, do not bring such a life upon yourself.”
Nicholas lowered his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is that so different from the life I’m living right now?”
LaCroix’s grip tightened on his jaw. For a second he thought the ancient was going to hit him and closed his eyes in anticipation. When his jaw was suddenly released and he heard his master walk away, Nicholas opened his eyes and looked at the retreating back, waiting for his final verdict. LaCroix stopped in the middle of the room before he turned back to look at the younger man, his usual stoic stance fully returned.
“Stay away from Acheron, Nicholas. I don’t want you to go anywhere or do anything in this castle without my permission; you will stay with Janette at all times until I advice you to do otherwise. I guess I don’t have to tell you what happens if you disobey these orders.” With that, he turned swiftly around, his cloak swirling about him as he walked out of the room and closed the door with a thud. The sound of his retreating steps echoed through the stone-paved corridors.
Nicholas’ eyes stayed on the closed door until the muffled sound of the footsteps vanished down the last hall. He then hung his head, taking a deep breath as he whispered, so hopeless and mute that not even the mice in the walls heard his words as he breathed them out.
“No, Master. I won’t disobey.”
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CHAPTER SIX
The bar had a tranquil atmosphere that night, like an early 1950’s Blues Saloon. Something sad, tired and aged was in the air. Perhaps it was because most of its patrons were over a century old and feeling somewhat nostalgic. Instead of the pounding electronic music that was customary to the place, a local singer was invited—human? Vampire? It wasn’t observable, but she had a deep sad voice, and she sang old songs.
A young man sat at the bar, his ruby red drink held loosely in one hand while the other rested on the counter. His well-groomed dark hair matched the expensive business suit and tie he was wearing. His briefcase rested against the stool. There was a fluidity to his manner and a deeply buried gloom that was as hidden as his true nature and his exceptionally long canines. He took a slow sip from his drink and turned on the stool to observe the crowd over on the dance floor.
They were afraid of him; Arthur knew that as clearly as he knew his name. The couples were entwined in each other’s arms as they slow-danced to the music; singles were sitting at their tables sipping their drinks indifferently. They may put on a mask of ignorance, but he could feel with every strand of his overly-heightened awareness—which was even more sharpened by his Enforcement education—that they feared him. True, they didn’t make a show of being aware of his presence. But they watched him with wary eyes whenever he wasn’t looking, avoided being around him or getting in his way. Even the youngest twentieth century ones knew about his kind, one of the first lessons they learned about the Code, abide or there shall be the boogieman.
He sighed as he took another sip from his glass. He had come to the Raven in search of some peace, a sanctuary, had come to find Janette, like he had done so many centuries ago. But now he wasn’t sure it had been a good idea. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see her again. Not after so much time. Or was it because now, more than ever before, things were heating up around her dear ‘Nicola,’ her lovely crusader? The man would have to stand in front of the jury of Councilors tomorrow night and answer their questions before facing their verdict. Arthur took a deep draught then slightly bowed his head, contemplating. Had it been fate? Was it him subconsciously taking vengeance for what they had done in the past? He denied his thoughts in silence. No, he never wanted it to be this way; it certainly wasn’t his fault. But she wouldn’t understand. She never did.
His mind drifted back to the time he had seen her for the second time, to the embodiment of beauty and darkness he suddenly had seen in front of him. Janette was everything and nothing at the same time. She was still with their master, as she had always been since her crossing. But now she reflected an aura of her own, a pride so exquisite he couldn’t assimilate, as if the queen and the whore had melted and then solidified into one beautiful entity. She was a goddess demanding to be worshiped. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring with the desire the memory brought. If only *he* wasn’t there. If only LaCroix had not brought him across to be the plague to them all. If only Arthur had acted differently that time, had been as mature and wise as he was now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1368 AD
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//This is us; this is Lucien LaCroix’s family. //
The image formed and distorted in Arthur’s mind only to materialize and fade again. Again and again he remembered his master’s speech, his proud tone as he stood over Nicholas and Janette, his hands possessively, fatherly on the young crusader’s shoulders. //Nothing in the world can change its structure as long as I can prevent it. // He clutched the embroidered curtain in front of him in a fierce grip as he ruminated. //My family, my _true_ family .// He didn’t turn to look at the others.
“I could have been in Venice now,” Isabelle said as she played with the golden medallion in her hands. “It’s late spring. The king would be showing off his new courtesans to the public. As if he doesn’t already have enough of them in his chambers.”
“Are you jealous of them, my fair Isabelle?” Vincenzo said softly, his voice carrying a seductive timbre, “Or of him?” He playfully raised an eyebrow as he teased.
Isabelle shrugged nonchalantly. “Why should I be either? I can have anyone I want anytime. Besides, what are courtesans, other than some dressed up brothel girls?”
Vincenzo approached her slyly, stretching out one hand to gently caress the back of her neck. “But have you ever tasted a courtesan, my beautiful flower? Have you nibbled on their ivory necks? Drawn in their scent of lilies and sandalwood? Tasted their knowledge, their memories of unlimited passion, their years of training in the hands of the most experienced teachers in the art of lovemaking?”
“You deceitful boaster! You really expect us to believe you have sipped from a courtesan? Do you take us for fools?” Elias said boldly in an attempt to drag Vincenzo down from the soaring heights he had elevated himself to.
Vincenzo looked at him in amusement with a twinkle quickly shining in his eyes. Slowly, he brought Isabelle’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss on its palm, his eyes never leaving Elias. He then gracefully moved away and walked toward the center of the room, speaking in a loud and demonstrative voice.
“A courtesan is like the rarest of the wines, kept in a dark cellar for ages. When I gave her the blood kiss, her blood was like fire on my tongue. I laid her down to take in all of her astounding beauty, then I kissed her and drank from her again until I tasted and drained her entire life. It was one of the most spellbinding experiences of my un-life. And that was only one of the many that I’ve had over the centuries since I came across. I have traveled in boats filled with flowers and naked women. Drank rounds of wine and hot blood at the Turkish taverns in the east. I have ridden under the desert moon with my lover pressed tightly against my breast while she sat in front of me on the mare. Of course, you don’t comprehend.”
“And still he treats you like you’re nothing to him.” Arthur’s voice reached them from where he stood by the window.
The others looked toward him, startled; those had been his first words since the beginning of that evening. Vincenzo seemed offended that his speech was interrupted so indecorously and looked at the Englishman with annoyance.
Arthur left the curtain and walked to stand in front of him. Looking straight in the libertine’s eyes, he asked, “Tell me, conqueror, when was the last time you saw our master before this trip?”
Vincenzo parried, “What business of yours is that? I have no need to answer you.”
“No, but tell me anyway. When was the last time that he cared for you, that he gave you his blood? I know you can remember, brother, because our kind’s memory never fades.”
Vincenzo gave an indifferent shrug. “1005 A.D. I believe. I’d have to think too hard to remember the exact date, and for some reason I don’t feel like doing that right now.” His eyes narrowed as he returned Arthur’s gaze.
“I assume that wasn’t too long after you were brought across, was it? What happened after that last time? Did he leave you on your own? Did he tell you where he went, what he was doing? Did he ever inquire about you after that?”
“I don’t know, signor! Yes, he did leave me alone; no, he didn’t tell me where he was going and no, he didn’t ask for me at all after that. What is the meaning of this, anyway?”
“Yes, Arthur, pray tell, what point are you trying to make?” It was Isabelle who asked, a little upset.
“The point I’m trying to make is that we are acting as if we’re asleep, not wanting to wake up to the truth. We are creatures of ultimate power and beauty, made to overawe all of God’s creations under the limitless sky, to make love and possess lives whenever and however we wish it. And yet we’re shunned by the same being who has made us, our own creator.”
The others just stared at him. The whole room fell into silence as even the three siblings from the Baltic stopped their usual private conversation to regard him. Vincenzo stepped away from Arthur as if he were a dangerous animal one should keep away from. Elias, Isabelle and Melissa stood closer as they gave their undivided attention to their rascal brother.
Arthur, noticing the attention he had gained, continued his speech, “You all heard what he said tonight. About his *family.* Who was he referring to by those words? You? Me? Any of us? NO, he was only pointing at that wretched infant he drags around everywhere. That, what’s his name, ‘Nicholas.’”
The others kept silent, some even casting their eyes down. Talking about one’s master in such a way, while he was absent, counted as transgression amongst their kind. Children had to always respect and obey their master’s decisions and never question them. That too was said to be a part of the Code.
Arthur sensed their discomfort, but didn’t heed. He walked around the edge of the carpet as he spoke. “He’s kept this one close ever since he has brought him over. Fed him his own blood every night for an entire six months after his transformation. Now it’s over a hundred years and still he has him at his side. Bet they still share blood as well. And I ask you what *we* got after our first century was past? Desertion? Neglect? Detestation?” He barked the last words as if they where dirty specks sticking to his tongue. The others flinched at his tone. Isabelle looked at the door in fear. The last thing they needed was LaCroix walking into the room while this show was being performed. It was even more frightening as Arthur’s voice rose to palpable levels, knowing how sensitive their master’s hearing was; he could be listening to this speech even as it was delivered.
Finally, it was Zavid who answered, the eldest among the Baltic siblings, the eldest of them all. “It’s not our place to question Master’s will.”
Arthur turned toward him curtly. “Why not? From what I’ve heard, ‘Nicholas’ questions his will quite often. We are domestic cattle compared to him.”
Zavid continued looking at him composedly. “We are not to question his will.” He didn’t even blink as he spoke.
Arthur stepped forward until he was mere inches away from the other vampire. Zavid was taller and more than a century older than he. His mortal age was over 50 when he was brought across, older than his master in mortal years and definitely older than Arthur. They looked like a wise man and a pigheaded child as they stood face to face.
“Do you think he would’ve refused it had the lord asked for you instead of him? Do you realize that if Nicholas is out of the question it would be one of us who will be handed to the forces of hell?” Arthur said before he turned to the others. “ I bet he’d be happy too. Damn, he might even choose the unfortunate soul himself to be delivered on a silver platter if it means salvation for his favorite. Can’t you see, you fools?” He turned back to face Zavid again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Long live Nicholas! That’s all.”
Melissa snarled in reply. “What about Janette? That fraudulent whore.”
“Shut your mouth, Melissa!” Arthur snapped without looking at her. “Don’t you see, my old friend?” he was talking to Zavid again. “He is selling us for that fledgling brat. Perhaps in the end, more than one of us will have to be sacrificed to bribe the lord into not taking that one. How can we bear that, my dear brother? Tell me if you may?”
“Why don’t we offer Janette instead? That bitch definitely looks like she needs more company.”
In a flash, Arthur was next to Melissa, grabbing her by her hair and pulling her head back. He hissed into her face. “I told you to hold your tongue, wench! Didn’t you hear that? If you mention Janette’s name one more time, I swear on my own blood that I will drain you. You understand?” Melissa’s eyes went wide as she weakly nodded. Arthur let her go and stepped away.
“I’ll go and find LaCroix. We have to settle this today before it’s too late to do so. It could be anytime before one of us is condemned to an unspeakable fate. I volunteer to talk to him first but you must promise your support.” He looked at them expectantly, then thought otherwise and walked out of the room without giving them a chance to reply. He kept his back straight as he walked down the many halls in search of their patrician master.
-----------------------
The sounds reached him before he made the second turn down the particularly narrow hallway. He presumed he was in Acheron’s private quarters and his sensitive hearing picked up a conversation between his master and the castle’s lord in one of the rooms beyond the bend. He stopped at the turn to lean against the wall and listen. The two ancients seemed to be too absorbed in their own conversation to sense him from afar.
LaCroix sounded composed, even though a slight tremor of controlled irritation could be heard in his voice. “I must admit, my friend lord, you never cease to amaze me. I love your unpredictability.”
“I’m flattered, General. I have to say the same about you, especially in your choice of offspring.”
Although Arthur couldn’t see their faces, he could feel LaCroix’s demeanor change, reflected perhaps in the timber of his voice. “I can see behind your façade, Acheron, as clearly as I can see you. I know what you are really after. You can’t fool me with your charade about keeping the Code and your vow to the Council. I know why you chose him.”
Acheron seemed unaffected by the change in his opponent’s mood as his voice stayed at the same level. “And pray tell, my old friend, what is the real motive behind my decision that you are accusing me of.”
“Well of course, you desire him. For the same reasons I desired him the first time I saw him. You have sensed his light, his exquisite fire, his unique passion. You want to taste his blood.” LaCroix’s voice was dripping with disdain.
Acheron growled at the weight of the accusation. Even a young vampire such as Arthur knew perfectly what it meant. Desiring and pursuing another’s child was considered one of the more detested acts in the Community. A vampire committing such an act would be regarded with scorn and disparagement. Even if there were no laws set by the Council to protect a youngster’s safety or to give him security against an elder’s advances, the prowler would have to face the victim’s master, who would consider the act as much an offence to his own honor as that of his child. It was a very demeaning accusation, which Arthur assumed deserved a counter attack from the old Enforcer.
It was strange how these ancients continued to astonish him with their ways of behaving. Always having his most burning emotions in check, Acheron’s voice was as calm as it had been before, even as the imminent anger from the accusation laced through his sentences.
“You are bold, Lucius. Too bold for your own good. The only reason I’m discussing this matter with you is because I consider you my friend. If that changes for any reason, I can take your child at anytime without you being able to lift a finger. Remember, I’m not doing this on my own accord, but because of the Council’s direct orders; and believe me when I say that the Council can make you obey their word as easily as it can do a mortal.”
It was LaCroix’s turn to snort. The threat was as stern as it was valid. No vampire in the whole world would want to take up a challenge against the High Council of the Elders. It almost always meant an untimely death for the vampire by the hands of none other than the Enforcers.
“I certainly appreciate your treatment of me as a friend, my lord!” LaCroix retreated delicately. “But you must understand my concern for my youngest one. He is barely past his first century and his character is too passionate and fragile to be shaped into that of an Enforcer. I have dealt with him, I can tell you it is a failed attempt right from the start.”
“The Enforcement has had its way for many centuries in breaking ardent, non-compliant spirits. If the student doesn’t pass the training the first time, he will have to go through it again, and again if needed. Every weakness or insubordination will be confronted severely. There won’t be any room for failures.”
Arthur felt a shiver run through his body. He didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to be a pupil to the Enforcers. He closed his eyes and hoped that LaCroix wouldn’t come up with any novel ideas. They had to talk to him, and it had to be tonight.
“Nicholas would not survive that kind of treatment for long. He would be destroyed even before you attempt to reshape him. All you would be left with would be a broken shell of a vampire and a waste of splendor.”
“Au contraire, Général! I think you underestimate this Nicholas rather grately. He had been to the crusades hadn’t he? He has fought under blazing sun, has been captured and injured and infected with unknown and incurable illnesses and yet he has survived. What makes you think he would be anything less as a vampire? It is not he who can’t stand the ordeal now, is it, General? Should I say it’s you?”
LaCroix was silent for a long time before he finally replied, “I see, my lord, you have done your studies well. But I always think of you as a superior being who understands and respects an equivalent’s wishes and needs. Perhaps you are right and I am too unwilling to sacrifice my favorite child, but I have many others. And I assure you I wouldn’t object a tad if you chose one of them.”
Arthur gasped at the implications of those last words. LaCroix had openly announced he was ready to sell them all off to save his precious favorite. Suddenly his heart felt unbearably heavy in his chest.
“I can’t say I won’t think about it, Lucius. But you have to understand the obligation I have towards my initial decisions. It is not becoming for an Enforcer to change his mind on the fly simply because of a friend’s wish, whoever that friend might be.”
“I appreciate your consideration, my lord. Let us not discuss the subject any further this instance; why don’t we instead move to more pleasurable matters? I’ve heard that you have a hunting party planned for the next evening.”
“Yes, my friend. And now that you brought it up, I think it’s a good time for you to go and inform our other guests about this event that’s coming up tomorrow night. The woods of Charente are excellent hunting grounds for the keen vampire senses, and since I have prepared all the necessary rudiments for our sport, I’m sure it will turn out to be an exhilarating experience.”
“Thank you, my lord. I’m sure my children would be delighted to hear that.” The rustling sounds of cloth and footsteps reached Arthur’s ears as his master moved to shake hands with their host and walk out of the room. All of a sudden, he realized his situation and froze in place, not knowing whether to leave or stay where he was. The footsteps drew closer and out of reflex, he held his breath. It was too late to leave now. There was no way he could get away without LaCroix discovering him. Making the choice that it was better to face his master evenly rather than on the run, he stayed where he stood and waited for LaCroix to round the corner. He stared at his master’s shadow dancing on the opposite wall, growing larger and larger as he advanced, and tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. Two more strides and LaCroix was right in front of him.
“Is there any reason for you to be standing here?” he said in a chilling voice that made the younger vampire shiver involuntarily.
“I came here looking for you, Master. We need to talk.”
LaCroix lifted one eyebrow inquisitively and continued to glare at his child. “Who is *we,* please?”
Arthur could feel himself fidgeting. Damn it, why should he lose himself like that in front of the ancient?
“We, I mean I and… the others. There are some things we have to talk to you about.”
LaCroix suddenly released the youngster from his burning gaze and turned to walk away. “Ah, yes! As a matter of fact, I too have something to tell you all. But judging by the proximity of your position, I would say you already know about that.”
Arthur didn’t dare look at him. There was no point in denying the truth, either, and if nothing else, it would put him in a more difficult situation. Since LaCroix seemed not to mind his spying, he decided to sidestep the subject and simply followed his master along the torch-lit halls. LaCroix had not been told where they had gathered, but with his acute sense of his children, he took all the right turns until he was standing in front of the same door Arthur had left a half hour ago. He then turned toward his companion as he once again held him with a glare, and said in a solemn voice, “Now, before we go in, you had better tell me what this is all about.”
Arthur’s heart beat twice. He looked at his master and tried to appear impervious. He raised his chin and spoke firmly. “Sire, we’d better go inside and let the others know that we are here. This is something I’m sure they all want to talk to you about. I don’t want to be a source of any prejudgment for you before they get their chance to join in.”
LaCroix rolled his eyes and reached for the door handle. There was something about this whole affair that didn’t please him at all. These youngsters had better have something important to say or he’d discipline them all for wasting his precious time. He walked into the room and let Arthur close the door behind them both. One look around the room confirmed his initial conclusion, that they were all gathered there. All but his two favorites.
He observed them one after another before he returned his cool gaze back to his escorting son.
“Now are you willing to tell me what is going on here? Why are you all assembled in this tiny room? I thought our dear lord’s castle had rather a few better places for little children to dwell.” His tone was piercing and sarcastic.
Arthur took a step forward and cleared his throat before starting to speak. “The reason we are gathered here is that we want to ask you to acknowledge us as your children.” He kept his gaze steady as he looked straight into his master’s eyes.
“What did you say?” LaCroix’s tone was more one of confusion than annoyance. He peered at his child, demanding an explanation.
Immediately, Arthur realized the denseness of the situation and tried a different approach.
“We all love you very much because of the gift you gave us. Even though we have been apart for a long time, there is a part of us that has always belonged to you ever since the beginning. All we want from you now is to reassure us that your love has stayed.”
LaCroix gave him a shrug and a dismissive wave with his hand. “All right, I love you. Now get out of here.”
“Not just yet.” The young vampire took a courageous step forward while trying not to provoke his master’s ire. “We would like you to call us your family. Like you did the other night with Janette and Nicholas. We would like you to take our side and defend us against Lord Acheron and his Enforcers, to treat us the way you treat your other two children. That’s our legitimate right.”
Before he could say another word, he was slammed against a nearby wall and held in the strong grip of his master. LaCroix growled as he held the mutineer flat against the wall and inches above the floor.
“I already have enough on my mind to want to listen to your irrelevant blather. Your legitimate rights are what *I* decide they are, I thought we were already over that after your first two decades.”
Arthur clawed at his master’s hands before he realized there was no chance for him to break free. Panting, he stopped his struggle and submitted to the older vampire. LaCroix glared at him for another while before he let him down and turned to his other children. His eyes where mere slits as he surveyed their receding, frightened faces. He wasn’t happy with any of them.
“I want all of you to listen very carefully. Janette and Nicholas are my true daughter and son. I do not want any of you to disrespect or question that, understood? I gave each and every one of you the time he or she deserved to be trained and prepared for this life and have set you on your own. What I do with the rest of my eternity is my business. Make sure you etch that into your brains.”
The others nodded fearfully. They all had at least once experienced LaCroix’s wrath during their infant years, and knew that the master’s temper was not something to meddle with. LaCroix was still seething when a weak voice came from behind him, breaking the silence that had fallen upon the room after his declaration.
“I don’t recall Pericleia getting the chance she deserved to survive through the life you blessed her with.” LaCroix promptly turned back to Arthur, who was still standing against the wall rubbing his throat and panting slightly. For a minute it seemed like the elder would rip his impudent youngster to shreds.
He slowly advanced on him, making sure his eyes never left the demanding green orbs of his child. “I told you to never cross my path again. You are such a wretched fool that you don’t even deserve my punishment. Your sister died because of her own negligence and you would have ended up the same way had I not taken care of your miserable hide all those years. And this is how you repay me for my troubles? By defying my authority?”
Arthur swallowed but didn’t back away. His eyes had taken a strange shade of gold and green and he had a mad look on his face. He gasped, “And what about him? I only went against you when you stopped caring for me and left me for death. But you cared for him for so long and all he gave back to you was defiance and disgust. He never appreciated your gift, did he? Not the way I did. Still, you love him more. You always love him, always him, never us, and I want to know why?” He was inches away from his master as he spoke those words into his face, holding his chin up to look him right into the eyes. His voice trembled at the utterance of the last words.
LaCroix raised his hand, poised to strike, but then he brought it down slowly. He was very angry and he knew if he acted on it he might destroy something he would regret later. Knowing how uncontrollably severe his actions were when he was in a state of rage, he instead ignored the fuming youth and once more turned toward the other occupants of the room, speaking pointedly.
“I intend to forget about this little incident tonight. I don’t think there is any time for me or any one of you to repeat the basic lessons of respect and submission you were taught in the first years of your lives across. As long as we are in this castle, I don’t want to hear any word discussed or even whispered regarding this matter, is that clear? And if I discover that either Janette or Nicholas has been told anything about tonight’s nonsense, it’s everyone’s neck that will be at stake.”
He glared at Arthur once again with crimson eyes, then stepped forward and towered his tall form over him. “Be warned, you are as much a property of mine as any other miserable soul in this room. And it is up to me how I handle my properties. You can live with it or you can walk into the sun. But don’t ever cross me again, because it _will_ surely be your last time.”
With that, he left the room, leaving his children in a sea of trepidation and the dark silence that fell over them as soon as his footsteps faded down the last hall.
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Arthur swirled his drink as he replayed the memory. That day, more than six hundred years ago, had been a defining moment in his life. He had relished the moments LaCroix had held him pressed against the wall, had drunk in the master’s angry words. He had wanted them, needed them for a long time. He sighed and took another sip. His master, who had repelled and rejected him, his master, who had openly announced he didn’t want to have anything to do with him, who only loved Nicholas, his favorite son, had given him some semblance of joy that day. Still he cherished the memory. Because even though it had been out of pure rage, albeit his show of dominance and repulsion toward his child, LaCroix had paid attention to him. He closed his eyes as he remembered. //You can live with it or you can walk into the sun. // Did he ever consider that option?
But now, all had changed, forever. Now he was an Enforcer, no longer the property of Lucien LaCroix but a property of the High Council. He drained his drink swiftly and stood up.
Tomorrow, he thought to himself, Nicholas will have to stand trial. He might be acquitted; he might be condemned, which meant that he then would have to endure the punishment. Would LaCroix show up and interfere? Would he risk opposing the high powers to save his favorite son? <I guess we’ll have to wait and see. > He ignored the retreating crowd as he silently walked out of the bar and into the starlit night. <Tomorrow. > He took flight as the wind brushed his thoughts away.