Nick opened his eyes to the pleasant sight of his beloved Janette. The vampiress was wearing a long velvet burgundy gown and was pouring a drink of the same color into a crystalline glass. A candle was lit on an end table, bathing the room in a soft glow and highlighting the beautiful woman’s features and subtle curves. He lingered for a few minutes, taking in the sight that looked like something out of a da Vinci painting. The mesmerizing aroma of fresh human blood cut with vintage wine teased his nostrils, and like so many times before, took him back to the past, to the time when they were still together as husband and wife, sharing the same bed and the same love. He let out a sigh, languorously.
The dark-haired enchantress turned. Her eyes glimmered in the faint light as she took the tray with the bloodwine and carried it to the bed where her guest was lying. She set it on the nightstand before turning inquiring blue eyes toward her resting brother. “And how did I earn the honor to become your host today?”
Nick looked around. His senses told him the sun was perfectly up in the sky and his surroundings didn’t look like his own home. Realization slowly sank into his mind as he identified the place as one of the Raven’s private rooms, decorated expertly according to Janette’s tasteful liking. He was lying in the center of a king-size bed covered with dark satin sheets of expensive quality. The bed, just like the rest of the room’s furniture, was made of a reddish mahogany wood. Most of the furniture was antique, but the interior designer had managed to put together the different pieces in a way that made them match in color and style despite differences in era and background.
Janette sat on the bed next to him and lifted one of the crystal goblets. He silently refused the slender hand that was offering the glass and sat up, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.
“Janette! How in all the world did I get here?”
Janette’s eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. “You mean you don’t know? It was only seconds before dawn when I found you sleeping on the front stairs of the club. How ever you got there is out of my comprehension.”
Nick stared at her, dumbfounded, trying to remember what happened last night and how he got there, but could only gather bits and pieces of recollection. He remembered the trial from hell, the faceless shadows that stood in his judgment, probing his mind with their powerful psyches and bombarding him with intricate questions. He also remembered them leaving him when the lights went off and everything went dark. But beyond that, he remembered nothing. He knew time had passed since then, for it had still been dark when he last closed his eyes, but now it felt like close to noon. He shook his head in bafflement and sank his head down, not wanting to look into Janette’s you-are-a-fool accusing eyes. “I--Janette, I honestly don’t know how I got here. Last thing I remember, I was at the other end of the city in the Flemingdon area.” He raised his eyes and gave her his most skillful, innocent look.
Janette threw her hands in the air and reached for the crystal goblet again. Like a protective mother urging her sick child to drink his medicine, she brought the goblet toward Nick’s face and offered. “Now, before you tell me what you were doing in that awful part of town, you will drink this, and no, I wouldn’t accept a ‘No’ for an answer. It’s bright outside and you are stuck here with me, mon amant.” She moved seductively closer and put one arm around his shoulder while the other held the goblet under his nose. “And I hope you don’t want to starve yourself, because I think you know how I despise anorexics.” She smiled and nuzzled at his ear as she spoke the last words.
Nick turned his head. Her closeness both unnerved and exhilarated him. She smelled of pine and bee wax, her dark, slick hair coiling around her ivory neck like a cobra on a marble statue. He closed his eyes and breathed her scent, his lips touching the coolness of her skin and moving tentatively across her cheek, searching for the ruby lips. His hand touched the goblet she was holding and brought it down, absently spilling some of the contents on her velvet dress and the bed sheets. He whispered in a voice thick and husky from his excitement. “I would much like to think that. However, there is a better brand of wine at hand that I think I would prefer over human.” Janette hissed as his lips moved down her neck, once again touching a sensitive spot only he knew about. Her eyes glowed amber and her fangs appeared as the sensual change washed over her. No matter how long she lived or how many lovers she took, no one would ever compare to her beautiful Nicola. No one would be as passionate, as skillful yet benevolent as he who could arouse her by a simple touch on the neck. She took in a ragged breath as she felt the pinpricks of his fangs touch her skin, but held herself in control. A slight wave of wickedness overtook her, and before he could complete the bite, she entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back, staring deep into equally amber eyes. She heard his labored breath as he struggled to free his head from her grasp and return for the bite, and smiled in satisfaction.
“Now, now, mon petit diable. We don’t want to rush things here, do we? How about a little foreplay and cuddling before we get to the actual game, hmm?”
She let out a startled shriek when all of a sudden, her Nicola wrestled her down to the bed, holding both her wrists on either side of her head and giving her a fully fanged grin. He hissed naughtily. “As you wish, my lady. I shall have the honors.” He leaned his head down toward her breasts as she struggled playfully and giggled, pushing the bed clothes to the floor with her feet, her fingers clinging to the golden tresses of his tousled hair as soon as her wrists were freed. Their link hummed with exquisite ardor and overwhelming happiness as the two vampires started their everlasting dance of pleasure and passion.
---------------
The first thing he thought about after leaving the Raven by nightfall was where to find his car. He wanted to fly to where he had parked it last night and drive it back to the precinct, but even the thought of the neighborhood where his nightmarish trial had happened sent chills through his body. He chose to leave it and to take a cab instead. Tomorrow he would ask someone from the office to go and pick it up for him. Or, who knows? Maybe he would whammy his partner again into driving it back to his loft and giving it another good wash. He laughed at the idea as he got into the cab.
As soon as he entered the precinct, he sensed tension in the air as all eyes turned toward him. He looked at their joint desks and saw that Schanke wasn’t in yet. Walking through the bullpen, he ignored a few more stares before he plopped down in his chair, placing his feet on his desk and putting his arms behind his head in a comfortable posture. He felt relaxed tonight, a feeling he had missed since the arrival of the Enforcers. Spending the day with Janette had taken away most of the strain of the past few days. If he dared, he would say he was happy.
“Knight, in my office, NOW.”
The indisputable command of Captain Amanda Cohen ripped through his solace and shook the precinct as she walked toward her office and waited at the door with an unrelenting look on her face. Nick put his legs down and stood up. He caught the other officers’ knowing gazes from the corner of his eye and tried to stay indifferent. He had no clue what the captain could possibly be angry about, but wasn’t willing to take any chances. Confidently, he skirted the desk and walked toward his waiting superior.
Cohen waited with her arms crossed on her chest. When Nick reached her, she freed one hand, palm up, offering him to enter the office first. Nick complied, and soon the captain followed, closing the door tightly behind her to lock out inquisitive eyes and ears. Then she ordered her detective to sit down while she moved behind her desk and finally sat down herself.
Nick hesitated before he actually sat on the chair, his earlier good mood partially distorted by his captain’s behavior. Amanda looked at him with the same disgruntled expression that she had carried so far before she finally spoke.
“So tell me, Detective Knight, what is going on with you and your partner this time?”
Nick scratched his head before he answered. “I’m not sure what you mean, Cap. What *is* wrong with me and my partner?”
Cohen laid her arms on the desk and focused on the man in front of her.
“All right, then let me ask you another question. How far are you and Schanke in the Timanus case?”
He swallowed hard. He hadn’t done much work on their latest case since it had coincided with his case with the Enforcers. But he knew he had to give her an answer.
“Uh, Nat… I mean Dr. Lambert, verified that the shots where fired from a close range. Forensics is still looking for a murder weapon and more clues, the victim was a known drug dealer working in a wide range, drive-by is ruled out because of the…”
Cohen silenced him with a raised hand, “Stop it, Knight, your recitation doesn’t impress me. This is the same report you gave me three nights ago, which clearly shows you guys haven’t made an inch of progress since. And it is no surprise to me either, since neither of you have been at work in the past few nights.”
Nick looked at her questioningly, not daring to say anything when she was so heated.
The captain stood and paced behind her desk while Nick followed her with his eyes. She started talking as if to herself, without looking at him. “Now, let me see. Schanke took tonight off, you took last night off, and then both of you took Tuesday off to go to his culinary party.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Schanke took tonight off? Why?”
Cohen turned accusing eyes back at him like a mother catching her son snacking on the cookies she had forbidden him to touch. “So you wouldn’t even know where your partner is had I not told you? That, I’d say, is great teamwork. I’m wondering how you guys stayed together this long, let alone got awarded partners of the month.”
Nick interrupted her rather rudely. “Did he say why he wanted to book off?” He looked with boyish eyes at his superior, worry now evidently showing in their sky-blue depths.
Cohen paused for a moment. The worried look on her detective’s face surprised her a little. Was there something else going on between the two aside from the case? Had they been fighting? She sat back in her chair, laying her arms once again on the desk before her.
“He said he had someone coming over to his house. Didn’t give me any more information.”
Nick tried to keep calm. “Did he say who this guest was?” His mouth suddenly felt dry. Who would visit his partner at night when there was plenty of time during the day? Unless it was…
“Listen, Detective. I don’t pry into my officers’ personal lives unless they are my partner and we are working on an unfinished case. I don’t ask why Det. Schanke took the night off, but you should. This is what partnership is all about.”
Nick lowered his head and tried to hide his trembling hands. It was them, they had planned this, otherwise why would they meet him at his house, where his wife and daughter were? Why not set up a meeting somewhere else, at the precinct for instance? He squeezed his eyes shut as images of Myra and Jenny running from red-eyed monsters threatened to overwhelm him. When he felt a hand touch his shoulder, he looked up to meet Capt. Cohen’s confused gaze. “Are you ok, Detective?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you. I promise we will work harder on the case and make some progress by the end of the week. Sorry for all the delay, it will certainly never happen again.”
Cohen patted his shoulder and went back to her desk. All irritation gone from her stance, she clasped her hands together on her desk and looked at her troubled officer for a few seconds before she spoke.
“Ok, Knight, that’s fine. I suggest you stay more in touch with your partner next time so you won’t have to worry this much over him. Now, go back to your desk and start working. I want a full report on your progress by the end of tomorrow night.”
Nick stood and nodded his head a couple of times like a soldier addressing his commander-in-chief. “Yes, ma’am. I will. Thank you, ma’am. I’ll go straight back to my desk and start working on the case.”
He turned and left like a robot with tension radiating from every fiber of his body. Amanda let out a frustrated sigh; she would never understand Nick Knight. He was happy one second and troubled the next without a discernible transition in between. And she could never read what went on behind those stormy blue eyes, which at times held such a haunted expression that it made her pause.
Nick tried to focus on his work, but soon found it impossible. He was too worried to concentrate on anything else other than what he imagined was going on at Schanke’s home. Twice, he decided to call him, but held himself from doing so in fear of putting his partner in even more danger. He felt his stomach churn at the thoughts that kept coming to his mind and silently prayed that none of them would actually be true. His thoughts went back to another night, much like this one, but centuries ago and a lot more terrifying. Where again he was a prisoner of insecurity, not knowing what was going to happen next and imagining a thousand horrible possibilities in his troubled mind. That had been a long time ago, when he had only been a fledgling, but he remembered every detail with vivid clarity as anxiety had clawed relentlessly at his unsettled heart over and over again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1368 AD
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He leaned his head against the mildewed, damp wall as the darkness of his confinement threatened to consume him. He still couldn’t work out what had happened. He had trusted and followed Arthur to participate in a plot to trap the ancient, but now he was the one trapped by him, after skating only inches away from true death. He didn’t know what his crime was. No one had believed him when he had pleaded innocent, presumably because he was too young and insignificant compared to his accuser. Without his master around, he was at the mercy of any vampire who had even a few decades on him. He closed his eyes at the thought of his master. Why hadn’t LaCroix come to his rescue? Why hadn’t he answered his cries of help? Had he forsaken him tonight? Was he too occupied with the hunt to come and save his youngest child? He grimaced at his own thoughts, thinking of himself as a child and complaining about LaCroix not being there for him. He hadn’t been a child for a long time, and it disgusted him that his sire and everyone else treated him like one. The punishments, the disrespect and the bossing around had all become too much to bear at some point. But somehow he had managed to bury all the anger in one corner of his heart, in caution of his father and other older more powerful members of their community, because he was perfectly aware of how much he still needed LaCroix’s protection. He knew how they thought of a young vampire cub in the Community. The ones neglected by their masters would receive the most humiliating and horrifying treatments imaginable by the elders of the pack, simply because they were too weak to defend themselves, and there weren’t any laws to defend them, either. In the ways of the creatures of the night, the strongest always had the most rights, doing whatever they pleased without regarding how much hurt or terror it caused the weaker. Only the respect and consideration over an ancient sire would secure a young one’s safety and security from others’ trespass, a truth that made him tremble now when he thought about his own master. If LaCroix had in fact abandoned him, then it would be Acheron’s will that would determine his fate, and with the odds so tragically against him, he was sure it would be anything but pleasant. His only hope was that whatever motive had stopped the elder from cutting his head off tonight would present itself again once it was time for his verdict
-------------
They were all gathered in the antechamber leading to the castle’s throne room when they heard their master approach. Most flinched at the sound of doors being slammed shut or banged open against stonewalls as LaCroix’s sturdy footsteps rang closer and closer. They could tell the master was angry.
LaCroix came into the room like a torrent of wind, blasting the heavy twin doors wide open as he strode hurriedly toward the adjacent room, where his adversary Lord Acheron was situated. He didn’t so much as look at his children, who made themselves smaller at his angry arrival and tried to clear out of his way. Anxiety was etched in his face, but the fact that he had preferred the hammering stride to the swishing vampire skid showed that he was counting on a dramatic entry in hope of robbing some of his enemy’s confidence.
He was stopped short in his tracks by a sobbing Janette. “Oh, LaCroix, please help him. They have thrown him in the dungeon. I’m scared they might kill him if you don’t do something.” Her eyes dripped red tears down her cheeks.
The master stopped, looking furiously-yet-frigidly down at his daughter. His voice was more like a snarl when he finally answered her from between gritted teeth. “Go to your room and stay there until I tell you otherwise.”
“But LaCroix…”
“NOW!”
The others cringed at their master’s shout. Vincenzo’s hand shook, spilling droplets of bloodwine onto his fine boots from the goblet he held. Isabelle hid behind a stiff-backed Elias and buried her face in his shoulder. The room suddenly felt cold and quiet as master and daughter stood face-to-face, one trembling from fear, the other fuming in anger, his intimidating presence hovering over her and the entire room. Seconds later, Janette retreated, weeping uncontrollably as she ran up the stairs toward her bedchamber.
LaCroix’s blazing gaze circled around the room, looking at the rest of his children in resentment. He roared.
“THAT GOES FOR YOU ALL. ALL OF YOU! GO TO YOUR ROOMS AND DO NOT SHOW YOUR FACES UNTIL I CALL YOU.”
The young vampires slowly drifted away. Elias put a supporting hand on Isabelle’s trembling shoulders while guiding her out of the room. Vincenzo set his wineglass on the closest table and walked toward the door. They had all felt their master’s fury hours before he had shown up. Something had happened, something that had stirred up a dark cloud of anger in both ancient vampires and was threatening to suffocate all of the smaller beings who lived under the same roof with them. Coming back from the hunt, they had heard the news from the castle guards and the reality of its disaster had struck them numb. Distress was showing clearly on all the faces leaving the room under their master’s domineering gaze, when the last one locked eyes with him. Arthur’s stare was calm, as it always had been, with the silent resentment glowing under the green exterior. After a few seconds, he coldly looked away and rushed out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. LaCroix felt a new pang of anger rise in his chest, but right now he had no time for it. Finally alone, he spun instantly, swirling his cloak like a shroud and resumed his daunting stroll toward the other room, where his opponent patiently awaited him.
The double doors opened and LaCroix stared at the scene greeting him inside the room. Acheron was near the fireplace at the far end of the room, sitting on a chaise, one leg bent at the knee with the foot flat on the cushion and his knee supporting his right elbow while his back rested against the arm. He was looking intently at a spot below one of the many banners that embellished the far wall. On a table in the center right hand side of the room lay the pale body of a young woman, her face ashen and her eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. With her golden hair and her white chemise, she looked remarkably like one of the ancient goddesses LaCroix used to worship in his time. Even though he had already heard about what had happened, and was mostly furious at the accusation rather than anything else, the gloomy sight still took him aback for a moment.
They stayed that way for several minutes. Acheron made no move to acknowledge his guest’s arrival, nor did LaCroix to get the other’s attention. It was their sensitive hearing picking up Janette’s sobs from somewhere on the upper floor that finally melted their freeze. LaCroix took a deep breath before he commandingly uttered the first words, aiming to intimidate.
“What did you do with my son?”
Still, his host took no notice of his presence. When LaCroix shouted his insistent question again, he didn’t even blink, but as the furious master was about to shout once again, he spoke in a terribly low and detached voice as if the words were taking some effort to come out of his mouth.
“My Germaine is dead,” came the whispered reply.
“I can see that. Where is my son?” the seething LaCroix demanded, hissing through fangs.
Finally the beleaguered black eyes lifted toward him, the intensity of their grief striking him like a bolt of lightning. The voice now rose to a more heated level.
“He killed her. Your Nicholas killed my Germaine.”
The dark eyes pierced the pale blues of LaCroix, daring him to deny it, which was exactly what he did.
“You have no proof. I demand you release my son, immediately.”
This time the old lord stood up, locking his hands behind him as he took slow steps toward the table where his deceased concubine lay. He ran a hand through the golden strands of her hair and over her face, pausing on her lips as he gently brushed them and moved down, toward the arc of her throat and the telltale punctures that were screamingly visible against her pale skin.
“She was everything I had. I loved her more than anything, more than eternity and Charente, even myself. Her blood was so sweet, so hot and full of emotions. I could never have enough of her.”
A tinge of compassion touched LaCroix’s cold heart. It was hard to watch the powerful ancient mourn.
“I am sorry for your…”
“Are you?” Bright crimson eyes burned into him, the voice already rough with the emergence of the vampire. “You will be more, after your bastard brat finds his final death at my hands.”
LaCroix’s heart trembled at the thought, but he let none of it show on the surface. The situation was far more than devastating.
“You will not harm him for as long as I speak in his rights. His punishment is my responsibility, according to the Code, and you have to abide by that.”
“The Code?” A cry of amusement came from the other ancient. “You speak of the Code? What about your careless whelp? Did you forget to teach him about the rule of thralls? Didn’t he know they were not to be touched by anyone other than the vampire who’s marked them? Were his senses on leave when he attacked my Germaine, that he didn’t feel my aura in her?”
“There must be a mistake. Nicholas has great control over his blood urges, and I taught him well to obey the Code.”
“Then pray tell why he was found on the castle grounds sitting next to the dead body of my angel when I had explicitly told everyone not to hunt in that area?”
LaCroix bit his lip; the question was legitimate, and something he asked himself too. The only person who knew the answer was Nicholas, and in order to get the situation under control, he had to meet him soon.
“I want to see my son. I will answer you then.”
Acheron moved away from the table and stood face to face with LaCroix. His eyes had lost most of their red glow, but they were still laced with traces of amber.
“I will extend the generosity to let you visit him, but remember this. Even if his life is spared for your station’s sake, I do claim him as mine from this moment on. I told you about my decision some time ago at our first gathering, and you refused to consent. Now the odds have shifted and you are not in a favorable position anymore, so I think it’s best if you do not refuse whatever I can spare you.”
He met his retort in the likewise flaming eyes of the other as LaCroix bit back a snarl and glowered at his adversary, who now indeed had a more secure and powerful position than he. He had hoped to beat the ancient by trapping him in his own tangled net, but all the tables had been turned by the latest incident, and now that his most precious possession was a captive of the powerful enemy, a vulnerable spot was created in his carefully woven armor. He backed away hesitantly, and hissed from between clenched teeth.
“I agree, now take me to my son.”
Acheron nodded in satisfaction and marched to the door without another word. LaCroix followed, equally silent, though still fuming on the inside. They walked out of the room and toward the castle’s more secluded underground levels.
----------------
Nicholas was sitting on the cot opposite to the cell’s door when he heard the sound of feet approaching. He was tired, hungry and scared, and even though his master had taught him that weather had no effect on vampires, he could swear he felt cold. The back of his shirt was moist from leaning against the damp wall and he felt the wetness seep into his skin. He wanted so badly to go to his room, feed, put on warm clothes and crawl into bed with Janette. Yes, especially that. His eyes stung with tears at the thought of failing her. He had promised her he would come back, that he wouldn’t cause any trouble this time. But he had caused trouble, again, and he worried LaCroix would blame her for his blunder.
The steps came closer, and a minute later the heavily bolted door clanked open allowing a ray of light to creep into the cell from the adjacent corridor. He stood up as all of a sudden, an overwhelming sense of his master engulfed him and he was at the door before LaCroix could take a full step inside the cell.
“LaCroix! I’m glad you came. There’s been a mistake; please tell them it’s a mistake. I never killed her, honestly I---.”
He was cut off abruptly as the back of his master’s heavy hand harshly struck the side of his face, sending him crashing against the cell’s right wall. He crumbled down to the floor, blood oozing from his nose and lips. Before he could surface from the dizzying haze and gather himself up, LaCroix was upon him, picking him up and slamming him against the same wall. He gasped and tried to cower as his father hit him in the face and stomach, again and again, with forceful, vicious blows. His vision darkened and the world spun with him in the center, tasting his own blood as it flowed in his mouth. Finally, he gave in and stopped his struggles, going completely limp in his master’s grip and surrendering to the angry patriarch’s punishment.
LaCroix was angry enough to tear his son limb from limb. It infuriated him that the boy’s silliness had put him in such a vulnerable position. He had been so close to bringing the old lord down and now Nicholas, with his childish idiocy, had ruined all his plans. He saw him become still, saw the trails of blood streaming down his trembling chin, and realized he must have broken some bones. Irritably, he loosened his grip and watched the errant boy slide down the wall to the mossy straw at his feet.
Silence fell over the dark cell, no sound to be heard save for Nicholas’ labored breathing. LaCroix moved toward the other side of the confined space and sat down on the protruding cot, resting his forehead in his hands, cursing the world for his predicament. When the stillness stretched long enough, he raised his head and spoke.
“Why do you do this to me, Nicholas? Why do you always have to disobey me and do the exact opposite of what I say? How many times more do you think I am able to save you?”
Nicholas didn’t answer. He stayed on the ground were he had fallen, huddled against the wall, head bowed and focused on stilling the pain. When he could finally muster enough strength, he lifted his head just slightly, looking at the empty space on the floor in front of him.
“I didn’t do it,” was all he said in a bitter, shaky voice.
LaCroix glared at him with red-tinged eyes. “Did I not tell you to stay with your sister? Why did you have to wander off to the castle? What trouble were you looking for out there?”
This time Nicholas did look up. LaCroix’s heart clenched at the sight of his bruised face. He quickly lowered his eyes though, and stared at the bare ground once again.
“I don’t know why we flew back. I went back to the stables to place Janette’s riding crop in her saddle, and Arthur came to me. He said he had a plan to trap Lord Acheron and asked me to go with him.”
LaCroix’s eyes became a pair of burning conflagrations. “Arthur???” He growled the word, almost unintelligibly.
Nicholas didn’t seem to notice or care. He sat back against the wall, wincing at the pain the movement caused him, and closing his eyes, continued talking as if to himself.
“Arthur had hurt me a few days ago. He was there to say he was sorry and that he wanted to make peace by letting me join him in his little witty plan. I agreed, but after we reached the castle, he left me on a roof and disappeared. That’s when I found the body.”
The picture slowly started to come into focus before LaCroix’s eyes. Why wasn’t he told this before? A new anger boiled up inside him. How dare that swine disobey his order not to get close to Nicholas? How dare he get so bold as to plot against him? Had all his children turned into insubordinate brats?
He looked over at his son. Nicholas sat drooping on the floor. His right temple was resting against the cold wall, and he looked woozy, drifting in and out of consciousness as he intermittently opened and closed his eyes. Blood and grime had soiled his delectable face, and a slowly-healing bruise marked the side that he leaned against the wall, probably using the moist chill as a soother. All at once, LaCroix regretted his impetuous action.
“Are you hungry, mon fils?” he asked in a leveled tone.
Nicholas only nodded slightly. He closed his eyes again and pressed himself closer to the wall. LaCroix stood up and came over to crouch beside him. He grabbed Nicholas’ shoulders and lifted him off the floor, then gently walked him to the cot. They both sat down as father gathered son in his arms and Nicholas rested his back on LaCroix’s chest. Without a word, a wrist appeared in front of him. He took it and hesitated just a bit before finally bringing it up to his lips and sinking his fangs into the cool flesh that rewarded him with the deliciously healing blood. Tension gradually left his body, and he relaxed more against his father’s powerful form, drinking in long, slow draughts.
LaCroix closed his eyes as well. There was always a sense of peace and immense pleasure in feeding this one. He remembered Nicholas’ earlier years, when he was still a helpless vampire infant dependent on him in every way. Scattered images started to slowly form in front of his mind’s eye. Images from Nicholas’ experience that night and what had happened in the courtyard. He saw how Arthur had fooled him, lured him into the trap and left him there to be captured by the guards. He relived Nicholas’ fear and desperation as he struggled against the stronger men, cried out to the only guardian he knew in his immortal life, his father, his sire… and received no answer. He read his devastated thoughts of the possibility that his father had left him in the accusing hands of Acheron and his Enforcers, and saw the depth of his sorrow and hurt. LaCroix’s heart trembled from emotion and slowly, not disturbing his feeding child, he planted a tender kiss on the soft golden curls. “I will always be there for you my son, always,” he sent through the link that was strengthened by Nicholas’ drinking of his blood.
Nicholas’ eyes were half-closed; his drinking slowed and he finally fell asleep. LaCroix dislodged his wrist from his mouth, and with the same hand, brushed over his forehead, hugging him closer to his chest as if trying to protect him from all the monsters in the world. He whispered in his beloved’s ear, “Rest, my little one. I promise I won’t let them have you, not this time, not ever. And as long as I’m alive, you have my word that you won’t ever have to face them alone again.” His thoughts then floated to another one of his offspring, the one who had caused all of this, Arthur. Silently he vowed retribution, to show that bastard spawn what it meant to overlook his orders and to mess with his favorite creation. He would regret it dearly for the rest of his un-life, which would be a very long time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@}--`--}--,
-----
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER TEN
Nick caught Natalie as she was discarding a pair of surgical gloves. He hugged her from behind, showing some good mood that had magically returned to him during his drive to the morgue. It seemed that getting out of the office and on the road had been the remedy for his distress. Having been subjected to grave tension in the past few days, he felt like he saw Enforcers at every turn, and any news that came from either the Raven or the Schanke household had something to do with them. While driving to the coroner’s building, he had time to think over what he had heard about his partner that night and the reason why he had booked the night off, and he had decided that his fears were ludicrous. The Schankes might have had anyone coming over to visit them without necessarily imposing any danger. It might as well be a family member or a friend of Myra’s.
Nat turned around in his arms with a bright smile and gave him a peck on the cheek before she walked to her desk to pick up her tape recorder and a bunch of papers. Nick leaned against the wall and watched her with his usual sheepish grin. Things seemed to be commonplace for now, and he didn’t see any reason to speculate otherwise.
As Nat moved to another table to continue her work on her newest ‘patient,’ Nick asked, “ So what’s up, Nat? Do you have anything new for me?”
She didn’t look up from her focused inspection. “New in what sense? New as in ‘I found the killer, the proof and the murder weapon’ or new in the sense that you are finally out of your insanity session and back with us on dear mother earth.”
His smile broadened. “I go for the first, although the second isn’t anything short of reality, either.”
She tossed her bloody tweezers in a dish and cleaned up her hands before she came up to him.
“I’m glad to hear that, although unfortunately, I’m not able to help you any further with your case, as there is no additional evidence to work on at this point. You either have to find that handgun or you have to call it closed.”
“I know. That’s what’s bothering me the most since the Captain has forbidden me to drive around without having Schanke along, and so I can’t go and investigate the murder scene.”
Nat regarded him with a mocking grin on her face. “Cohen put you under curfew? Now that’s something interesting to hear. And where _is_ your chaperone partner now?”
“He had someone over to visit him at his house. He took tonight’s shift off, which means I’m pretty much stuck in two places, here and the 96th sweathouse.”
She came closer and put both her arms around his neck, enjoying his surprise at the intimate gesture. “I hope at least one of them is a pleasant place to be.”
He smiled and kissed her on the cheek, making her close her eyes and struggle to suppress a shudder of joy. He had a spell on her. Damn him, but he had a spell on her and she couldn’t run away from it. Was it love, friendship or a simple attraction? She didn’t know. But she had enough presence of mind to open her eyes before he could see her basking in the pleasure of his kiss. Now they were looking at each other with her arms still resting around his neck.
“Natalie, I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved this past week. I’m sorry I couldn’t really tell you what was going on, but believe me it was for your own protection. I hope you’re not too mad at me.”
Slowly, she removed her hands and patted him reassuringly on the arm, smiling all the while. “I know, Nick. Don’t forget I’m an expert when it comes to your hidden identity. I was worried about you too, and considering all the weird things you did in the past few days, I thought you had finally gone insane, planting anxiety in place of your well-known guilt. I’m glad it’s over.”
Nick’s heart pounded in his chest. Was it really over? How could he be any surer that he and his partner were cleared of the charges the Enforcers had against them? The jury’s verdict—whoever that jury was—was not in yet, but he didn’t want to let that piece of doubt darken his just-found peace. He was sure if the judgment had been to end their lives, it would have been carried out by now. There was really nothing there to stop the Enforcers or to make them wait.
He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as he looked at the clock. “I’ve got to go back to the precinct. Cohen is going to skin me alive if I don’t show her some work, any sort of work, by the end of tonight. I guess boy’s night out is over.”
Nat went back to the body on the table and put a pair of magnifying goggles on. “Well, I don’t want to fight her on that one, Nick. If you have to go, then you’d better go. I guess I’ll see you later.” She winked at him from behind the goggles with oversized eyes.
Nick winked back. Before turning to leave, an idea came to his mind and made him call to her one last time.
“Nat, would you like to drop by the loft tomorrow after the shift and watch a movie with me?”
She looked up, happy and surprised, her expression somewhat comical because of the magnifying effect of the glasses. Nick suppressed a grin.
“Of course,” she said. “But I get to pick the movie, ok?”
He let the grin surface on his face. “Ok!” He widened his eyes with his fingers to mimic her expression and quickly ducked and left the room before the pair of flying tweezers thrown in his direction could hit him.
--------------------
There was an abnormal amount of activity at the precinct when Nick walked in. Everyone seemed to be talking about this remarkable thing that had just happened and whatever it was, it somehow seemed to have something to do with him. As he walked through the bullpen, he heard Capt. Cohen’s voice on the phone talking to someone from forensics. Nick turned to Officer Smith, who was standing close to Nick’s desk going through some papers she was holding in her hand, and asked curiously, “What is going on? Why is everyone so keyed up?”
She looked up, smiling at him, her long lashes trying to blink away the row of curtain-like long bangs that fell on her forehead like the descending cascade of a brown fountain.
“You mean you don’t know, Detective? Your partner, Detective Donald Schanke, just solved the Timanus case.”
“What? The case is solved? The same case that had us chasing ghosts just, let’s see… two minutes ago?” Nick couldn’t contain his astonishment at the news.
Smith jiggled her bangs and blinked again, “Actually, it was just after you left when he called and said that he had a lead that might direct us right to the murder weapon. He asked for backup, and the forensics team immediately followed.”
Nick was genuinely amused. “And was it real? Did they find anything?”
“Uh-huh. They found the handgun in the same area they found the body. Apparently, after the guy shot himself and fell down, the gun skittered out of his hand and fell through the slits of a manhole. Forensics had failed to search the sewer canal below the site, which is where they found the gun tonight.”
Nick felt like having a stroke from the magnitude of the information that was being delivered to him all at once. He and Schanke had been working on this case for more than a week without any progress, and now all of a sudden they were telling him it was over in one night. It felt like those TV game shows where the curtain went up at the end and the one million dollar answer was uncovered within seconds.
Recalling something she had said in her speech, Nick asked the other officer, “Did you say the guy shot himself? Does that mean that this was a suicide after all?”
“Not really, more like an accident. The gun they discovered had a large hole in the back, and it was missing the hammer block. It looked like the gun had exploded rearward while the hammer was being pulled down, and the bullet had gone right through Timanus’ chest.”
Nick scratched his head. None of it made sense. “So that means the bullet that hit him in the chest was shot backwards from his own gun while he was playing with the hammer or something?”
She shrugged. “Forensics say it makes sense. They say he probably had the gun in front of him and was fumbling with it because of something, and the gun wasn’t equipped with enough safety measures to avoid firing off. So while he was pulling on the hammer, he must have accidentally broken the hammer block and caused the gun to fire in the wrong direction.”
Just at that moment a roar went up in the area as Detective Schanke entered the bullpen, followed by a group of forensic people. He went straight into the captain’s office and Nick heard Cohen immediately put down the receiver as she accepted him in. Nick wanted to join them, since this was supposed to be his case too, but stopped himself before he made a move and sat down behind his desk in disgruntlement. He had expected his partner to keep him informed of any changes that would happen in their case, but here he was, running off with the evidence and taking all the credit for himself. Perhaps—he thought with scorn—their captain had a point earlier when she said they didn’t work in sync.
The door to the captain’s office opened and Amanda’s head showed past the frame. “Knight, in my office please.”
He stood and walked to the office. He closed the door behind him and saw a jubilant Donald Schanke sitting on a chair in one corner. He stole his gaze away and looked at the captain getting back in her chair behind the desk. “Yes, Captain?” He inquired.
She looked up; the same disinterested look she flashed every day, even if there was turmoil going on all around her. She pointed to the other chair facing the desk, and asked him to sit down.
“I want you to go over the case with Schanke carefully. It seems he has found some valuable information that might help us solve this one.”
Nick looked at his partner, who responded by raising his eyebrows several times in a show-offish gesture. He turned back to the captain and said, “Are we ruling out homicide completely?”
“It looks like it was an accident. The reports collected from witnesses show that there was only one shot fired and the angle it took to go through the chest is corresponding to the nature of such accidents, says forensics. Preliminary examination of the gun shows only one set of prints on the handle and those are the victim’s.”
“How come forensics overlooked the manhole and the sewer underneath the first time?”
“They say they did send someone down there to check the canal, but he came up with nothing. Since they suspected nothing to be down there in the first place, they didn’t bother with a second search and accepted the report.”
“Until it dawned on me that there might be more below the surface than we might have though of,” Schanke put in with a satisfied grin. Nick shook his head in disbelief. Was he having another one of those nightmares where everyone seemed out of this world? Since when had Schanke turned Sherlock Holmes, solving impossible cases by pure ingenuity?
Cohen waved her hand, silencing both of them. She looked at the gloating detective with serious eyes. “Enough, Schanke, you already recited it to me three times. I’m not interested in knowing how you discovered this, but you have to make sure it gets somewhere so we can close this case as soon as possible. Now, I want the both of you to get out of this office right away and start on the paper work before forensics’ final report comes in. I also want you to call the coroner’s office and supply them with the new information so they can verify it with what they've found in the body. All right, gentlemen, let’s go.”
The moment they stepped out of the captain’s office, Nick confronted his partner with a demanding glare. “Now listen to me, Schank. You tell me right away what happened tonight or I’ll ask for a replacement as soon as this case is over.”
Schanke didn’t back off a bit at his partner’s angry declaration; he didn’t even lose the smirk he had on his face all through their conversation with the captain. Nick was starting to get frustrated when his partner finally decided to reply. “Yes, I know it sounds unbelievable, partner, but it is true. Don Schanke, the ever-so-quiet man, the unseen, unnoticed but hard-working hero of the nightshift, finally solved a case all by himself. And that without any help from his superman partner coming to the rescue this time. Nope, it was one hundred percent Schanke.” His voice raised and he started pointing at his chest in a determined way. “Yes, partner, me. The always-last-on-the-scene Don, the oops-my-partner-got-the-guy-first Don. I did it all by myself this time, you hear that? All by myself.”
Fed up with his partner’s bragging, Nick raised a hand to stop him and said, “Ok, ok. I got it, Schank. You’re the hero this time. Congratulations. I’m not even thinking about taking any of that away, all I need to know is just one thing.” Confident that he finally had his partner’s full attention, Nick looked him directly in the face and asked, “How?”
Schanke, like a record that had been paused mid-play and was now resumed, exclaimed in the same animated fashion as before, “What do you mean, how? How I figured it out? How I discovered where to look for the gun? Well, duh. It came to me; you hear that? I thought about it, figured it out, solved it. Is that so difficult to believe? My bald head not worthy of solving simple problems?”
Nick looked at him in disbelief as they both sat behind their desks. Schanke fiddled around a little more, but seeing his insistent partner wasn’t about to give up, finally shook his head and said, “All right, all right. I’ll tell you the truth. But you must promise me you’ll keep it to yourself, ok?”
“Ok Schank. I’ll lock my lips like a burial chamber, promise.”
Schanke leaned forward to get closer and whispered, “I was clued in by someone.”
“Someone? Someone who?”
Schanke looked around before he turned back to him. “I am not supposed to tell you because I promised him. But since I don’t even know his name myself, I guess it would be ok. Plus, we are partners, right? I mean you would’ve told me, too, if you ever had a secret, wouldn’t you?”
The cold finger that touched Nick’s heart stopped him from answering immediately, but then his partner had returned to telling the rest of his story without really expecting a confirmation. “I was getting ready for work tonight when this guy showed up at my door. Said he knew something about the case that might be helpful but didn’t really want to come to the precinct because he was scared of cops or something. He said he had been there when Timanus shot himself and saw everything from a window. He was the one who gave me the location of the gun.”
Nick was confused at Schanke’s confession. Rubbing his chin, he asked, “Who was this guy? Did he tell you his name, or where he came from, or what his connection to the victim was? And how the hell did he know your address? Did he tell you any of that?”
Schanke nodded approvingly. “Yes, of course he told me all that. He said his name was… umm, it was… err, I think I’ve forgotten right now. It was just a regular name. And he said he was in the area, that’s all. And I guess he knew my address because he… uh… I think he followed me or something.” Schanke stared optimistically at his partner on the other side of the double desk.
Nick leaned forward and equally stared him in the eye. With a speculative tone he said, “Tell me, Schank! How much of what you just babbled was actually what *he* said?”
Schanke wiped his forehead in befuddlement. “Uhh, I guess, none of it. Now that I think about it, you may have a point there. Everything is so fuzzy in my head. I remember him showing up at my door and introducing himself to me. No, wait a minute, he called me first and told me he had information and wanted to talk to me about it. I suggested he come to the precinct, but he told me about his police-o-phobia and said he would rather meet me at my house. I wasn’t comfortable with that, but before I could argue further, the line went dead and two minutes later he was at my door. He must’ve called me from the phone booth across the street or his cell phone. Anyway, I invited him in and we sat in the living room. He said it might take a while, so I better call and book the night off, so I did. I was pretty sure he had something that would be worth something. I think it was after I finished my call and returned to the living room that he told me about the shooting and the gun.”
Nick took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “What did this guy look like, Schank? Can you describe him to me?”
Schanke shook his head rapidly as if he wanted to spill the information from his brain onto the desk. He said, “Well I think I can remember that, because the moment I saw him, I got a little suspicious. He didn’t look much like a snitch; I mean, you know, the types that hover around those areas. He was quite well dressed, suit and tie and all that. His hair was combed, face clean shaven. Kinda like an office guy. And even though it was late in the evening, he still wore a pair of sunglasses, expensive ones, too. You know how good I am in detecting those. Not that I ever had a pair myself, but like that time when we had the walls painted and you had…”
Nick cut him off impatiently. “Schank, would you please stay on topic here? You were telling me what he looked like, right?”
Schanke looked dumfounded for a few seconds until Nick encouraged him to continue.
“Uhh, yeah, right. That’s all there is to it, really. Tall, white male, mid 20’s, good looking, well dressed. Like I said, didn’t look like a snitch at all.”
“Do you remember anything else from your conversation with him? Other than the lead he gave you on the case?” He waited expectantly.
Schanke bit his lip as if thinking hard, while playing with a paperclip he held between his fingers. Finally, he looked up, a trace of indefinable confusion showing in his eyes. “You know what? Honestly, I can’t say I even remember that. I mean, I know he showed up, we talked a little, I made the call to the precinct, and then we sat in the living room. After that, it’s all just fuzzy and weird. It’s like I know he told me that stuff, but can’t quite remember him saying it to my face. Just that I knew it all when he left.”
Nick blinked. He finally knew what this was about, and he didn’t expect to hear anything more. Schanke’s eyes got brighter as he continued remembering. “And you know something else? Now that I think about it, I remember something else that was a little weird. I can swear I was alone with him when I finished my call. I don’t remember anyone entering the room while we talked. But in the end, when he was saying goodbye, I faintly remember him shaking hands with Myra and even Jenny. I don’t know how they got in the room, but they were there when he was leaving.” He sat back and rubbed his forehead, his primary cheerfulness now turned into bitter frustration.
“I don’t know what is happening to me these days. Last week with all those suspicious nightmares about you and Janette and that creepy Nightcrawler guy, and I ended up polishing your car so much it was like I intended to rub off the paint. Now this guy shows up at my door out of nowhere, and I can’t even remember his name. I think I’m losing my mind, here. Must be from lack of sleep.”
Nick leaned back in his chair too, more collected and in control than his distressed partner. He knew what had happened, could read it clearly between the lines of his friend’s muddled explanation. The Schanke family had been through their interrogation with the Enforcers, and from the looks of it, they had passed. Of course, Don couldn’t remember any of it, since he must have been hypnotized throughout the whole process. They also wanted to make sure nobody in the whole family knew anything about the Community, and that was why they had called Myra and Jenny to the meeting and probably whammied them as well. After everything was done and over, they had replaced their memories with fake ones and left the house, leaving a confused but happy Schanke behind. Why they had helped him solve the case, or how they had done it, was something beyond his perception. What was important now was that with any luck, the matter would be solved and the Enforcers would be soon leaving the city with the confidence that no part of their irrefutable Code was broken by either of them. He let out a long-held breath and leaned further back in his chair, closing his eyes.
Captain Cohen’s voice brought both detectives back to reality. She looked down at them from where she stood close to their desks with disapproval showing in her eyes. “I don’t know how many times I have to repeat an order for the two of you to make sure you understand it. Every time I turn my back, one of you is daydreaming,” she pointed at Nick who had just opened his eyes and straightened at her tone, “while the other is looking around wondering if an alien spaceship has landed.” For that, she pointed at Schanke. “Neither is carrying out my order,” she concluded discontentedly.
“We’ll get on with it right away, Captain,” said Schanke, returning to his cheerful manner. “And my partner wasn’t daydreaming, Captain, he was just dreaming. It’s the nightshift, remember?”
They both laughed as Cohen threw her hands in the air in helpless defeat and walked away to see to her own work.
-------------------
The following day was the first in a while that Nick had a complete and restful sleep. He woke up refreshed in the evening and drove to the precinct in peace. Arthur and the Enforcers had not contacted him since the trial, and he was taking it as a good sign. If he or Schanke had been found guilty, they would have been dead by now. The mere fact that he was alive, and driving to join his partner for their case, meant that this whole episode had gone well and was over with no bodies left behind.
He and Schanke finished all the paper work on the Timanus case that night. Forensics and coroner’s reports both indicated the correctness of Schanke’s assumption and the case was filed and closed as accidental death. Both detectives were happy that they had finished so early and could have the rest of the night off. Nick politely declined Schanke’s offer to join him for a souvlaki and asked him to say hi to Myra and Jenny for him. He then jumped in his Caddy and drove toward the heart of the city, happy and pleased with himself. The uneasiness of the past few nights slowly lifted from his chest as he listened to the taped version of LaCroix’s monologue on CERK. His master hadn’t yet returned to the town and that in itself added to his joyfulness and calm.
He had decided at first to go and visit Janette, but was reminded of something she had said about running an errand that night last time they had been together. So he just drove around for a while before turning the car in the direction of his loft.
It was in fact a peaceful night; there were no clouds in the sky, the moon was shining high over the city and the stars were sparkling. Nick opened the elevator’s door to the darkness of the loft and sighed in contentment. What he really liked now was a hot shower followed by a nice glass of cow’s blood and a lot of music. He would sit at the piano and work on the piece he had recently started and abandoned after all the excitement had happened. He could also start a new painting, a table full of colorful plates of food, inspired by his one night at the Schankes’.
He picked up the remote and clicked the shutters into motion. The metal curtains rose, revealing a view of the crisp starlit night and the faraway illumination of Toronto. He looked at it for a while and was about to put the remote down when he envisioned a shadow pass by the window from the corner of his eye. He rapidly looked back and saw nothing. Shrugging indifference, he walked to the piano to light his favorite candles. He had always preferred the soft glow of candles to artificial lighting, not just because of his sensitive sight but because the quaking flames of candles soothed his mood and put him into a convivial peace.
He had lit the last candle when he turned and saw Arthur sitting on his couch. The appearance of the young man where there had been nothing before startled him. Arthur smiled at his astonishment and deliberately, as fluid as a lava lamp, lowered the shields that had veiled his presence from the other vampire. Nick staggered at the sense of power that surged from the Enforcer, but fought to keep his ground, looking at the uninvited guest with curious eyes.
Arthur stood up and bowed courteously. “I am sorry I again invaded your home without your permission. But I couldn’t risk staying outside for the whole night, and it was absolutely essential that we meet tonight, as I’m planning to leave Toronto soon.”
Nick offered him to sit down again and asked him if he wanted something to drink. Arthur accepted with gratitude. After Nick returned to the couch with their drinks, Arthur threw one leg over the other and started casually, like two friends making conversation. “So, I see your case has finally come to a conclusion.” He took a small sip from his drink.
Nick played with his, rolling the stem of the crystal glass between his fingers and looking into the ruby depth of the liquid within.
“Yes, my partner did that, although in a most peculiar way.”
“Why is that?”
“For days, we sat with no clue, trying to find something that pointed to a suspect, or a motive, or anything that would help us get a little closer to the truth, and came out empty-handed. But all of a sudden, as if from above, a lead walked right to my partner’s front door and gave him the essential information. After that, it seemed like everything flowed by itself and we finished the case.” He looked up and stared intently in the other’s shadowy eyes, accentuating his upcoming words. “Of course, we don’t know who this mysterious tipper was, and Schanke has no recollection of what happened after the man entered his house, other than the useful information he gave him.” He kept his eyes unblinking on his visitor’s face.
Arthur hesitated for a time before he leaned forward and set his glass on the table. He settled back again, resting one arm over the back of the couch as he said, “Yes, you guessed right, my friend. It was I who tipped your partner about the handgun and planted the idea of the case being an accident in his head. I was assigned to interview him and his family on the basis of the information we suspected they might have of our existence. To ensure they told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, the entire interview was conducted with them under the influence of deep hypnosis. That was also to make certain they wouldn’t be remembering any of it after we were done, if they passed of course. I planted the information afterwards and fixed their memories so that the whole incident looked like a friendly visit from an anonymous snitch.”
Nick didn’t shift his steady gaze, but asked, “How did you know that much about the Timanus case?”
Arthur’s lips curved in an amused smile. “How could we not know that much about that case? After all, we were the ones who created it. It was an essential process for our later actions, no matter which way they went.”
Nick’s mouth fell open; his tongue suddenly felt dry before he moistened it by taking a quick sip from his drink. When his initial astonishment was over, he looked up and said, “What do you mean you created that case? Didn’t Darryl Timanus shoot himself in the chest as a result of an accident?”
Arthur shrugged and reached for his glass again. “You can put it anyway you like. Of course he shot himself by accident. But the defective gun could have been planted in his hand, and his mind could have been tampered with so he would fire the gun after putting it in the most inappropriate condition.” He shot an evocative glance at his shocked companion.
Nick tried to swallow past the lump in his throat after Arthur’s revelation. The thought of what they had done didn’t leave his mind, no matter how hard he tried. An innocent man, killed for the mere sake of their dirty project. And he had fallen for it like a fool, a rat stepping into the trap focused only on the bait and not the spring latch next to it. He closed his eyes as if in pain, restraining a roar of anger that threatened to escape his mouth. When he finally managed to get his fury under control, he opened his eyes and asked crossly, “Why?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow in surprise as he swirled his drink in front of his nose, sniffing occasionally. “Why what?”
“Why did you have to kill him, kill Timanus?”
“I told you. Because it aided our plan and the procedure that was required for an infringement case such as this one.”
“What do you mean? How could killing an innocent man aid you in your plan?”
Arthur sighed and put his glass back on the table. He then entwined his fingers on his lap and looked at them for a while before he raised his eyes to Nick.
“You know it’s not my duty to give you explanations on how we do our job. Even this visit in itself is needless, since we usually inform the acquitted defendants by sending them a simple note of indication. But I will tell you about the process nonetheless, if only to make up for some of the anxiety we have caused you during the past few days. You can also count it as my being nice to my former relatives.” His eyes glistened as he watched his listener wince at the mention of the word.
He continued nonchalantly, “As you probably know, both you and your partner passed your relative examinations and were absolved from the charges held against you, based on the rulings of the Code. I give you my felicitations on that.” Nick nodded his head in gratitude. Arthur continued, “However, if it happened that either or both of you were found guilty as charged, then the course of events would have taken a different path.” He paused as he played with his fingers. Nick grew impatient.
“Different how?”
Arthur took a deep breath. “Things that were found in certain places in the current scenario would have been found in other places.” Without taking his eyes off his stunned audience, he added, “For example, instead of uncovering the gun in the sewer, they might have found it at your partner’s home.” A second of silence as he waited for Nick to digest the information, and a slight nod to himself as he noticed the enlarged eyes indicating his host’s realization. “Other things might have been found there as well. Like a pack of cocaine in the backpack of little… what was her name, Jenny? That would make some nice evidence like Timanus had given some candy to your partner’s little princess and created a motive for revenge.”
He steepled his fingers and slowly patted them against his lips, looking at nothing in particular, but more like picturing the setting in his head. “Of course, things could have always gotten more complicated. Timanus, as we knew, had a gang of violent buddies who would have wanted to avenge his death before the court could cut some piteous prison time for his detective murderer. So there might have been another scene, again at the Schankes’ house, one night when the family was gathered around the dinner table in complete harmony. A raid I’d say, shooting, our detective drawing his gun only a little too late. Maybe a certain vampire detective would be informed ahead of time to come and try to rescue his partner, maybe he too could get shot and die in the incident. And nothing would be left but a house full of dead bodies and no witnesses, oh, and a little bit of ash.” He lowered his hands and looked up, satisfied. “A perfect set-up. Won’t you agree?”
Nick was now literally fighting for control. Just imagining the massacre that would have happened had he and the Schankes not been exonerated sent jolting shivers through his entire body. God, after so many centuries, these beasts hadn’t changed a bit. The only thing in their organized justice system that had changed was putting the blame for their slaughters on someone else. He swallowed before he spoke, “That would have been quite a bit of stage work, don’t you think?”
Arthur shrugged. “Not really; the mortals would have been easily made compliant through mind control and you, my dear brother, are, as I know, famous for your rather exorbitant trust of everyone.”
“Why go through this much trouble? Why not send the Destroyers and let _them_ finish the job, as you used to do in the old times?”
Arthur picked up his half-full glass and stood up, walking leisurely. “Because, my friend, like I said before, times have changed, even for us. It’s not safe anymore to leave a trail of inexplicable bodies behind while carrying out an assignment, especially in a city like this that has a sizeable community residing in it. Sometimes, we have to move strategically in order to do a most complete job with the least amount of evidence pointing to us. Hence, the setups.” He stood at the window, finishing his drink and putting it on the ledge. The sky was starting to pale.
Nick folded his hands and put his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, mirroring Arthur’s previous posture unknowingly. Now it was his turn to look into oblivion and talk as if to himself. “So that’s how you work now. Set up a stage, get the unsuspecting players, write a scenario and make them play it for you, so you can do your dirty job backstage without having an actual hand in it.” He looked up, his irises quivering slightly. “That’s how your kind does their work today, isn’t it?”
“No, that’s how *I* do my work. I always liked to frame others for my own goals.” They both went silent at the reminiscence those words brought to their minds. Nick looked away after a moment, whispering solemnly under his breath, “Yes, how could I forget.”
The conversation seemed to end there. Nick was now only waiting for his guest to leave and let him have his rest, thankful that it had all stayed at a professional level and not gone into deeper, more unpleasant recollections.
But Arthur didn’t seem too keen to leave. It looked like there was something weighing on the vampire’s chest that demanded to be spoken out. He was just standing there by the window, his back leaning against the surface of the glass and playing with the empty wineglass he had picked up from where he had left it before. Finally he walked back to the couch and sat down, still looking at the empty glass in his hand with abnormal concentration. Suddenly, Nick felt as if an air of loneliness cracked the cold shell of his somber visitor. The man’s voice came unexpectedly.
“Remember the big Huberstein auction in 1964 for the old paintings recovered after World War II? It was in Leipzig, wasn’t it?”
Nick grimaced at the sudden change of subject, but still replied, “Yes, I remember it. Amazing pieces, some very old.”
Arthur nodded. “Very interesting indeed. I flew all the way from New Zealand just to get my hands on one of them. But I was unsuccessful. By the time I got there, I was told that someone had beaten me in buying it.” Nick perched on the chair, still not getting where this was going.
Arthur continued, “The piece was a simple oil on canvas, 15th century painting called ‘A View from Charente.’ I heard that the buyer’s name was Nick Thomas. I remembered it.” He looked at Nick, his eyes shining. “I wanted to see that painting, if only once. That’s all I wanted. But the buyer had left right after the purchase, and no one knew where for. I decided to forget about it, but somehow it never left my mind.” He stole his eyes away and looked at the empty wine glass.
Nick leaned back, finally remembering what Arthur was talking about. It had been during the time he had gone to Germany to search for the Abarat and a possible cure. He had heard about the auction and, interested as he was in old artwork, had attended it to buy some of the more valuable ones. This particular painting was from an unknown artist. Its sole value was because of its age, which dated back to the fourteen hundreds. It was a picture of a grand window opening to a beautiful view of a castle’s courtyard and a wide sandy road leading to the outside gates. Colorful flowers decorated the gardens of the yard and a small fountain spraying water was painted to the left of the window, only partially visible, and the rest secluded by the perimeter. It was a beautiful piece, but to Nick it was more than that. He had bought it for the memories it brought from a very old time, and now he was amazed to know that someone else had sought the piece for the very same reason.
“I am the owner of that painting now.” He paused for a second and the silence that ensued disturbed him. “I had to leave early after buying it because someone who was chasing me had arrived at Leipzig that very day. I didn’t know there was someone else interested in the work, otherwise I would have gladly relinquished it.”
“There is no reason to say that. All I wanted was to take a look, that’s all. I used to be an admirer of old artwork, but never a collector. My… job never allows me to have any personal belongings or get attached to anything for too long. You, on the other hand…” He tellingly looked around the loft at the displayed antiquities.
Nick set his glass down and stood up. “I don’t have that one on display here. I keep it with a couple of other very old pieces in a chest in my bedroom, since it’s not wise to expose them too much, especially with this many pollutants in the air this century. But if you’d like to take a look, I’d be glad to show it to you.”
For the first time in their recent encounters, Nick saw a flash of something that could be considered joyfulness in Arthur’s green eyes. Leading the way, he went up the stairs and Arthur followed as they both entered the bedroom. The room was dark, but neither bothered with turning on any lights since their enhanced night vision allowed them to see perfectly through the darkness. Nick walked to the other side of the bedroom and opened a bulky closet. He leaned down and easily picked up a heavy old wooden chest adorned with ancient carvings. Putting it on the bed, he retrieved a key from his bedside table and opened the chest. A row of antique frames came to view, their unsoiled polished look indicating the owner’s care and attention. Nick searched through them and soon pulled out one, a thin medium sized painting framed with old fine oak. The dark color of the wood had partially faded and the canvas was covered with oilpaper, which he unwrapped before handing the piece to his excited guest.
The older vampire looked at the picture with veiled interest. His pupils distended as his eyes tried to penetrate the darkness of the room and take in all that was there in the image. Suddenly the room got bright and he looked up. Nick was standing by the end table and smiling at him as he turned on another lamp to lighten the room. His eyes returned to the painting, trying to absorb every color, every ray of light and every angle of the outlook. It was different, obviously, as this was painted during the day and in full sunlight. But the scene was the same. This was most likely created looking through the same window from which he had watched their departure that faithful night so many centuries ago.
He remembered as if it was only a short time ago, perhaps last week, perhaps last night. The carriage stood shrouded in the darkness with no visible light to illuminate it for mortal eyes. His heart was pounding way too many times for its dead existence, but he was paying no attention to it. His whole being was focused on one single truth.
They were leaving.
He remembered throwing himself against the coldness of the glass as if wanting to break it and to break free. He remembered his master’s intimidating gaze from where he stood near the coach, under the moonless sky, and his shudder at the memory of their last encounter, when he was told how his master had found out about his betrayal of Nicholas and when he was delivered his ultimate condemnation.
They were leaving him behind.
He saw Janette walk to the coach wearing her beautiful traveling clothes, and his eyes filled with tears. Janette. She was so beautiful. <Wait for me, Janette! Please don’t leave me.> He tried to send a mental plea toward her, but it was their master that turned his gaze toward the window, frowning. She walked faster and disappeared inside the coach, out of his sight.
He dared to step closer and risk getting noticed by them. Then he saw him, Nicholas. Walking a little more hesitantly. He took a deep breath, unknowingly clawing at the smooth surface of the glass, his mind gone blank. Before reaching the waiting coach, the blond head lifted, looking directly at where he stood at the window. He didn’t even bother to hide; what did it matter anyway? And then Nicholas turned to their imposing master, still standing by the open door, and said something, hard for him to make out from the distance. But whatever it was, it only served to make the tall vampire angrier. His glove-clad hand shot out and grabbed the fledgling by the back of the neck, practically throwing him inside the coach. Lastly, the master himself put one foot on the first step leading to the inside of the vehicle. He saw him throw one last glance at the window, eyes as cold and uncaring as ice, before he finally stepped in and closed the door behind him.
And they took off, taking all his hope and future with them. Only then did he realize the reality of his situation and his sweat-covered palms slowly slid down the surface of the glass, leaving a brownish stain in their path. The rest of his body followed and soon he was sitting on the floor, face pressed against the wall and crying bitter tears as he screamed his sorrow in the emptiness of the room.
Six centuries past.
They both heard the sound of the elevator door opening as Arthur snapped out of his reverie and looked up to see Nick glance at his watch. The faint resonance of a mortal heartbeat touched their senses, and he saw hints of nervousness cross his brother’s face.
“Nick!”
A female voice was calling from downstairs. High-heeled shoes tapped on the floor as the mortal took a few steps into the loft.
“Nick, are you there?”
Nick walked toward the bedroom door and peeked outside. Arthur heard him speak to the unseen visitor, “Hi, Nat. I’m here. I’ll be just a minute.” He turned back to his brother apologetically. “It’s just my friend Natalie, she’s a medical examiner for our precinct. We watch videos together sometimes.” His whole stance showed his willingness to escort him out. Arthur nodded and put the painting back in the chest.
The mortal called again.
“Nick! I looked for that old B movie you liked so much, but I couldn’t find it at the local video store. You know, the one they showed on Sunday with all those hairy people in bizarre clothes. Remember we missed the ending? But I got something else instead.”
Nick put a hand on Arthur’s arm and started with uncharacteristic tenderness, “If you want to take it with you, go ahead. I have many pieces like it here. I want this one to be a gift to you.”
Arthur felt his heart leap. A violent struggle roared in him between the affectionate feelings he was experiencing now and a millennium of detestation he had felt toward this vampire who was indirectly responsible for his damnation. He couldn’t decide which side to take. He watched as Nick reached for the painting and placed it in his hands, smiling.
The female voice from downstairs tore into their silence.
“Nick, you’d better come down soon and see what I got. I bet you’ll love